Seasonal Affective Disorder | 2019

How do you, in good conscience, tell your family you don’t want to live anymore and you don’t know why?

Things have been good. You’ve been doing well and everyone knows it. You look healthier, your attitude seems lighter, and it’s like a weight has been lifted off of everyone’s shoulders. Whatever you’re doing, it’s working. Maybe you’re better now.

But like all good things, that feeling of contentedness comes to an end. Nothing happens. Nothing prompts it. You’ve got it good– so why do you feel like you can’t “handle” it anymore? Why do you feel like you’re six feet under? You get mad because you know there’s no real reason why you feel the way you do–it just is what it is. You get even more angry because you know people out there have actual problems. They should be depressed, not you. You’ve got it good.

How do you, in good conscience, tell your family you don’t want to live anymore and you don’t know why?

They say talking about it helps but you can’t find the right words to say because nothing makes sense. Like water on ink, everything blurs and deciphering it would be a waste of time. You’re afraid that if you speak about your feelings, you’ll stress them out. Your parents have heard it enough. Your friends don’t take you seriously. They all wonder when and if you’ll ever get better. They know you’re trying. Do they know you’re trying?

How do you, in good conscience, tell your family you don’t want to live anymore and you don’t know why?

You don’t know which is worse– being numb or feeling everything that has suddenly piled up. You don’t even know what you’re fucking sad about and that’s the most frustrating part. You were happy a week ago. It frustrates you and them. You don’t want to be a disappointment. You don’t want to be the let down. Why can’t you be like the rest of them?

How do you, in good conscience, tell your family you don’t want to live anymore and you don’t know why?

You thought you were ok, but you’re not ok. You know you have the ability to overcome it, but the idea of going through the cycle again exhausts you. It’s not worth it. Is it worth it?

How do you, in good conscience, tell your family you don’t want to live anymore and you don’t know why?

 

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The Unknown | 2019

The bathtub is filled half way with cool water. I wanted it hot, but it must be all out. Sometimes that happens.

I try to focus on the drip drip noise that comes from the faucet but I can’t hear anything. I feel heavy and indifferent. My mind is racing, but my body is slow and forlorn. I try to focus on anything but the thoughts running rampant in my brain, but they don’t stop.

That’s the funny thing about anxiety. It doesn’t stop.

Anxiety doesn’t care that I’m a good person, or that I have goals to achieve. He doesn’t care that I have a job to go to and friends to keep up with. Anxiety doesn’t care– it just is.

I sit up in the bath and I try some deep-breathing. It helps sometimes. My body is cold and the water is slowly draining; but I don’t care. I’m slowly draining, too.

The optimist in me knows that I have the strength to conquer even the hardest days–fuck, she’s never been wrong before. What makes lately any different?

My therapist confirms that my worry stems from The Unknown, a term I’m coining for my anxiety. The Unknown is a part of me. It is my ultimate downfall and my biggest blessing.

With it; I am haphazard. Without it; I am not me.

Some days I don’t know which is worse.

I’d like to take full responsibility for how I feel because it seems like the right thing to do. For awhile I blamed my dad’s suicide, and the sexual assault, and this and that. I was hell-bent on finding someone to blame other than just letting it be what it is– a part of who I am and something I don’t have full control over. I’m not a controlling person, but Goddammit, I wish I could be in control of this.

Anxiety doesn’t have to be a negative thing, though it’s damn hard to flip the switch on something with such a depressing connotation. Manifesting something so self-debilitating and turning it into a power tool to create a better you is not something easily mastered. I won’t pretend like I have done it myself– I haven’t. But I have complete faith that it can be done; only, and only if, you allow yourself to become wholeheartedly vulnerable.

I get it. It’s hard for people to come to terms with anxiety and all it entails. It’s hard to admit when there’s a problem; and even worse, it’s hard to seek help. When you do receive help, it’s hard to accept what’s being told to you. It’s too easy to fall into the rabbit hole, constantly wondering why do I have to be like this? and why can’t I just be normal?

I guess everyone is different. I’m no expert, you know? I have no idea what the hell I’m doing most of the time. All I really know is that I go through some shit and with that comes a burning need to help others that are dealing with the same emotions I am. Not everyone is strong and level-headed. I can’t fix these people, but I can be there for them as much as they’ll allow me to be.

The water in the tub has completely drained. The air has frozen my body but I make way to grab a towel. I’m frozen, but my mind is not. She keeps going, and going, and…

I have a theory that everything happens for a reason. All the good, bad, and traumatic has a place in our lives. We aren’t always meant to know why. We aren’t always going to understand it. It’s okay to not understand. Roll with the punches, take shit at face value, allow yourself to be engulfed in whatever life hits you with.

Hm, maybe I should take my own advice?

I’m out of the tub now, sleepy and ready to rest my head.

Tomorrow is a new day, and maybe The Unknown won’t be so bad.

But even if he is, we’ll get through it.

We always do.

My Apologies

In the new year, a lot of fresh ideas and new beginnings come to light. People are excited to go to the gym, eat healthier, become more organized, and bask in the idea that there’s a better version of themselves ready break through.

I have a different idea.

I have spent a great portion of my life, even from childhood, feeling like a burden and feeling bad for everything; like somehow my existence is a bother to those around me. Because of this; I shut myself out, I don’t talk about my feelings, and I apologize for everything.

I don’t want to be that way this year.

Feeling like a burden is a really exhausting way to live, tiptoeing through life because of the fear of being annoying or the fear of being “too much.” I tell everyone I’m sorry for “this” and “that,” and most of the time I don’t have a clue what it is that I’m sorry for. I don’t think it’s due to a lack of self-esteem or self-worth; but maybe subconsciously it is. I have a habit of thinking that all the good things that find their way into my life are bound to fail. I don’t know if thinking like this is a direct result from the trauma in my past or because I fail to have a balanced way of thinking. I don’t know if it matters.

Regardless of reasoning, I’m tired.

I’m tired of being sorry. I’m tired of thinking that I don’t deserve more. I’m tired of manifesting anxiety, but not accepting it. I’m tired of being too hard on myself. Most of all, though, I’m tired of being tired.

If there’s one thing I’ve come to know, it’s that even the most damaged or broken pieces can be fixed and healed. Even a bad habit or a bitter attitude can be mended with patience and zeal.

It’s unrealistic and foolish to think that this is something I can change overnight. It might take months or years before I don’t feel like a burden anymore. I’m going to fail. I’m going to make mistakes. I’m going to royally fuck up. The good news? I have a lot of time to get up and start over again.

I’m lucky enough to have a few people in my life that truly understand me and accept me for who I am, despite my many flaws and weird habits. When the going gets tough, I know they’ll be there. I take great comfort in knowing I don’t have to go through anything alone.

“You and everyone you know are going to be dead soon. And in the short amount of time between here and there, you have a limited amount of fucks to give. Very few, in fact. And if you go around giving a fuck about everything and everyone without conscious thought or choice—well, then you’re going to get fucked.” –Mark Manson

5 Things I Wish I Would Have Known 5 Years Ago

I spend a lot of time reflecting on the past and how the events that took place during the last ten or so years of my life have shaped me as a woman. I like to think about how I can improve as a human being, a friend, a daughter, a girlfriend– the roles in my life that make me who I am.

Is that a good or bad way to spend my time? That’s up for debate. I don’t have a definite answer, nor do I want one.

What I do know, however, is that there are a lot of things that I look back on and wish I would have known sooner. It seems silly to think about the what-if’s and the could-have’s. That’s not what this article is about. This is merely a look at the lessons I’ve learned and the knowledge I have gained from being a really stupid teenager. The fun bit of this is that not much has changed–as opposed to being a really stupid teenager, I am now a really stupid adult with a caffeine and ibuprofen addiction. (Don’t get old, kids.)

Let’s begin.

  1. Credit cards are not your friends.

Ah, yes. I remember eighteen-year-old me thinking I was so cool because I got approved for a credit card. Instead of being responsible, I just nearly maxed that bad boy out. Why? I was using it to impress other people with bullshit items and buying things for my ex-boyfriend whom literally did not deserve to even know me. What did we learn from this, my friends?

  • Don’t buy things you can’t afford, don’t need, or will not use.
  • Don’t go spending money on men that don’t have any goals/jobs/aspirations
  • If you do not listen to the first two points above, you will end up in debt and needing to take out a small loan to cover the ridiculous balance and interest rate. Don’t be me.

 

2. People are not projects.

There is not a single person in this world that you need to fix more than yourself. I can scream this from the rooftops, from the mountains, hell; I would scream it from a plane if I could. If a person isn’t willing to get help for themselves, it isn’t your problem and it’s not your responsibility to put their pieces back together. Everyone goes through shit–especially you. Yourself. At the end of the day, as depressing as it sounds, you are all you have. Not everyone that walks into your world is going to have the same heart or mindset that you have– that is exactly what makes you so unique. Run with that. Nourish yourself. Eat well. Seek help. Go to the gym. Sleep enough. Take care of you. Unless you have children, everyone else comes second. The sooner you put yourself into this mode, the better. I wish this was something I realized sooner. What happens if we do not follow this golden rule?

  • Heartbreak
  • More heartbreak
  • Disappointment and a lack of trust

3. Not everyone is out to get you.

Listen, if you’re anything like me, anxiety makes you their bitch. There are times I will walk into a coffee shop or a store and feel an overwhelming sense of dread because I feel like everyone is judging me or looking at me. You know what that is? Egotistical. It is absolutely egotistical to think that in people’s everyday busy lives that they’re thinking of me amongst all of the other bullshit they’re dealing with. People have work they need to get done, kids they need to feed, cleaning they need to do. They’re not thinking about me. They’re thinking about how the hell they’re going to clean the house whilst doing a 16-page report for their art history class. What I wish little Leah would have known/did:

  • Nobody cares what you wear
  • Nobody cares what your hair looks like
  • Breathe, you big dummy

4. If a man cares about you, he will not force you into having sex with him.

Ah yes, you all knew this was going to get uncomfortable at some point. Guess what? Life is uncomfortable, and awkward, and overall messy. Get over it. I wish I could go back and smack 18-20 year old me in the face for this. No man will make you do any sort of sexual act and call it love. You know what those guys are? Assholes. They are assholes. A man will never disrespect you or your body for their benefit. True men will wait as long as they need to if they truly respect you and your boundaries. Manipulation is not synonymous with love. Key points:

  • You don’t need to have sex with someone in order to love them
  • Sex is a two-way street
  • If you withdraw consent, it is then considered rape
  • Be safe

5.  Be honest with yourself.

Listen, the hardest part of recovering from anything is admitting there is a problem. It’s silly and cliche, but you’ll never heal unless you allow yourself to realize that things are either not good, not healthy, or not progressing. Everyone and their mothers go through rough patches, fall on hard times, and go through phases. You are absolutely allowed to feel that way. However, it is up to you to get up and brush yourself off. It might be the hardest thing you’ll ever do. Show yourself some respect and better yourself from whatever tragedy, problem, or slump you are in. Don’t wallow in self-hatred and don’t be the “woe is me” person. I have dark humor, and I joke constantly about self-loathing– but truth be told, I know my limits and I know that my happiness is entirely up to me. What I learned:

  • Nobody is going to pick you up when you fall except for you
  • Don’t rely on others to make you happy
  • It’s going to take a long time to get to where I need to be. I may as well enjoy the ride

And kids, there you have it. I could probably think of many more things I wish younger-me would have known, like remembering to change the oil in my car regularly and not to talk to strangers on the internet or whatever. However, my fingers are sore from typing and I have other adulty things I need to get done today.

Keep on keeping on and remember– we need you.

 

 

An Apology Letter to Her

I think in the midst of life’s changes I lost myself. I lost what I stood for. I lost sight of my goals, my dreams. The bigger picture once painted beautiful shades of blues and reds had crumbled along with my mental health.

I won’t pretend like I’m in a good state of mind— it would defeat the purpose of everything I stand for. Still, even on the darkest days, my message remains the same: we need you.

I wish I could take my own advice. Isn’t that funny? We have sound advice for everyone but ourselves. Humans are funny and incredibly sad creatures.

Firstly— I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I repeatedly fail you and treat you like shit. You don’t deserve that…no one does. This won’t be the last time I apologize. It’s a repeat offense, a cycle that never ceases. I long to be in love with you but most days I can’t bare to look at you. I don’t want to feel that way. You’ve come so far and there’s something to be said for that. Deep inside, buried underneath the rubble of our past, I am proud of you beyond words of expression. You need to hear that.

Secondly— please understand that success is not a race, nor a set destination. Little things can be considered successes too. There’s triumph waking up in the morning when the night before you wanted to die. There’s power in conquering an essay when you didn’t know if you’d pass or fail. There’s beauty in terrible things. Don’t let it go unnoticed. You will fail, (a lot, probably) but that is not a representation of who you are. Perfection is not the goal. There is more to life than making good money or getting a 4.0.

Existing is easy but living is hard. My mind is constantly gnawing at the “could have’s” or the “what if’s.” Pay no mind to those questions. They are not beneficial. They will destroy you.

Your existence is meaningful to people, even if some days you don’t understand why. There’s a purpose for everyone, so what makes you any different?

Try to understand that existence is not black and white. Shades of color fill in the void, even on the black days. Happiness is on its way— but don’t chase it. It is not a destination. Its just an emotion. Let it engulf you when opportunity arises, but understand that some days you won’t find it anywhere. That’s okay.

Everyone grows at different rates. Life is not a race, nor a competition. Don’t let society and social media tell you any different. Everyone is fighting a good fight. Everyone has demons that dim their light. We are all just trying to get by on what we have– including you.

Your existence is a beautiful, fiery mess. Let it be.

Reality Prevails–A New Chapter

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The bravest thing I’ve ever done was step out of my comfort zone.

How cliche is that? I know, its gag worthy. I’m actually mad I typed it out and used it in an article.

But reality prevails.

As I creep closer to my move-in date and revel in the truth that my life is about to change, the more anxious and emotional I get.

As much as I hate this area, its home. NEPA is the center of every experience I’ve ever had, from tragedies to triumphs. This is where my dad rests in peace, where friends were made and buried, where memories are burned in floorboards of outdated homes and in cars with too many miles. This is where I experienced my first heartbreak and last conversations. NEPA is where I graduated, became self-sufficient, grew strong. This is the root of who I am and how far I’ve come.

I remember being sixteen and angsty; promising myself that I would move far the hell away from here, start a new life with new people and a fresh slate. I never thought it would happen. In fact, seventeen-year-old me would be shocked to learn that I haven’t killed myself, a feat that is exceptional on its own. I never thought I would make it this far, and yet I am here.

I waited so long to say that I’m officially getting out of here, and now I am petrified. I’m sad. I’m doubtful. I have a lot to offer the world; that I am sure of. But the lingering doubt that encapsulates me is the worst of it all. Did I make the right choice? But what if?

I don’t know if I made the right decision. I don’t know if what I’m doing is out of my reach or too far-fetched. I don’t know if I have what it takes to be a writer, or be anything at all, really.

All I know is that my lease is signed, and that bitch was expensive; so there is no turning back.

The future is mine.

 

 

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