Tag Archives: #personalgrowth

Health, Personal Growth, Self love

Depression…

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Depression, by definition, is a mental condition characterized by feelings of severe despondency and dejection, typically also with feelings of inadequacy and guilt, often accompanied by lack of energy and disturbance of appetite and sleep. There are many different types of depression, and it is often stigmatized. It isn’t discussed openly and without judgment. To say that at some point in our lives, everyone experiences some form of depression would be fair. Life is unfair and hard. Sometimes it kicks us when we’re down, and it takes us a little bit to get back up.

Some people have an easier time breaking through depression. Some people are able to develop healthy coping mechanisms, get on medicine, or go to therapy. They are able to overcome that fight against their mind. But for some of us, we suffer from clinical depression. Clinical depression can be managed, but no one ever really talks about how hard it actually is to manage.

Every day I battle my brain. I battle the thoughts that my depression brings to the surface. Some days my brain wins and some days I win. On the days when my brain wins I don’t typically spend my time in bed with an unhealthy appetite. My depression is more of a high- functioning depression. My working constantly, some of my humor, my constantly pouring myself into others, and my “toughness” aren’t always what they seem. My coping mechanisms aren’t always healthy and I am becoming well aware of that and them. All of these mechanisms have been beneficial to me and got me through some of the darkest times in my life. I fought tooth and nail, I battled my body and my mind, and I overcame it all. I refuse to be ashamed of them, but I am working on healthier ways to cope.

But those days when my brain and the depression win, those days are hard. I have people who are here for me when I need to talk, but sometimes the idea of talking is easier said than done. Talking openly and freely about depression is hard. The fear of getting judged is always there or the fear of not being understood. The emotions that come with depression can be overwhelming, especially when you’re trying to explain it to someone else. Every time I talk about the days when my brain wins I can hear how ridiculous it all sounds, but yet I still believe what my mind feeds me.

Recently, my brain has been winning a lot. I can’t seem to communicate what it is I am feeling appropriately with anyone around me. I have always done better with writing things and emotions. Maybe because I was conditioned to always be strong and not show my emotions in front of those who care about me, because it was too hard. That’s why I hate crying in front of anyone. I feel weak and for me being weak or vulnerable wasn’t an option. I had to be resilient, but guess what? I am not as resilient as every one thinks. I haven’t written much of anything the last 14 months or so, and it’s because I haven’t felt my words were worthy or important enough. But I am going to write about my depression lately here, maybe just maybe it can help someone else.

When my depression gets bad, I isolate myself. I push everyone away. I don’t know how to tell them what is going on and I tend to think it is easier to deal with by myself. I keep myself busy because my mind is constantly racing. It races with thoughts of failure, body dysmorphia, sadness, and inadequacy. I feel a million miles away from everyone in my life. I feel like I am not good at anything, jack of all trades but master of none. I beat myself up for not being happy and feeling bad about myself. I view myself in a light that is so negative its embarrassing to tell anyone. I get uncomfortable in my own skin and dislike my body. I view every blemish, wrinkle, and any jiggle as something to be ashamed of. I hide my tears, cry silently alone in the shower or while I lay in bed thinking of all the things I have done wrong. I resent myself for living paycheck to paycheck and tell myself I bring nothing to the table. I fear resentment from my loved ones because I think they’re going to view me in the light I am viewing myself. I doubt myself and I hate my brain. I get angry at myself for not being able to win the fight against my brain. I feel lost and all the while I put on a brave face and continue to work and pour myself into others. I suffer in silence and feel hopeless. Depression makes you feel hopeless, unworthy, inadequate, ugly, and little. It is dark place and it is hard. Sometimes I get to the point where I feel like I could explode with sadness and anger.

I am in therapy and I am learning healthy ways to overcome my depression. Most days I win and my self talk is positive, but like many other things in life, I get in a rut. The only thing that usually helps when I am in a rut is making some drastic change in my life and let’s be honest that doesn’t always help in the long run. So this time I decided I was going to write about it. I was going to openly and freely discuss it.

I appreciate when friends reach out and tell me they’re there for me, I really do. However, it isn’t easy for me to talk. I tend to just cry because it all floods to the surface. It gets too overwhelming to talk and makes me feel worse. I never share these aspects of my life or mental health for sympathy. I share them to help others find the courage to talk about what is going on in their life, or to make sure someone doesn’t feel alone, or to help people understand what they don’t know. I may feel bad about myself a lot with my depression and tend to feel lost. But if I can help de-stigmatize mental health for others then I can be proud of something.

Health, Personal Growth, Self love

Home

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After I got out of a toxic relationship and had nowhere to go, I moved back into my mother’s house. I thought, “oh, I’ll move home and heal myself.” That whole you can’t go home again, is completely accurate. The place I grew up that was once a sanctuary for my soul felt foreign to me. I found myself desperately searching for a place that felt like home.

I soon realized that I could continue to search for “home” in a million places or people, and I would always be disappointed. That feeling of home, that sanctuary for my soul, would only be able to be found within myself. I had lost myself, and that’s why nowhere and no one felt like home.

I started the steps to finding myself again. To rediscover who I was after such a toxic relationship and life-altering events that I chose not to deal or cope with properly. I had a lot of healing to do. I put myself in therapy and began to face all the trauma that happened throughout my life. Some of that childhood trauma I had already healed from without realizing I was doing it. All of that medical trauma that my body held on to and my mind protected me from was my most significant feat. The relationship that left me with severe self-esteem and intimacy issues was a cakewalk to heal from compared to the damage living with heart disease has caused.

I started to set boundaries and work on processing the dark thoughts and emotions that came from the bad news. I began to truly understand who I was as an adult and after a lifetime of chronic medical issues. I found a sanctuary within myself. I found my sense of home. It took three-plus years and a fantastic therapist, but I was genuinely comfortable with myself. I had a strong sense of self. I was happy and content. I did not want to disturb it either. I wanted to ignore anything medical-wise that was going on because it threatened my peace. I was also against letting anyone in that could disrupt my home. I was heavily guarded and selective. Then things changed.

After multiple ER visits and failed medications, I could not ignore my health and the disturbance it was creating. While I felt like things were starting to collapse, I worked feverishly on keeping what peace I could within my home and sanctuary. I worked on what I could control. Then came along a guy. One that caught me completely off guard. Someone who had been right in front of me and I didn’t think twice about. I honestly wouldn’t have even given him a chance had he not shown he was interested in me. I was adamant on not wanting to be in a relationship.

Shortly after we started to date and moved more toward the serious side of things, my health started to implode. Heart surgery. A minor surgery but nonetheless another trauma-inducing situation. I was still guarded and working avidly on trying to let him in. Trying to be open about my mental state and my fears, but it felt like I was swimming against the current. I was trying to navigate familiar but rough waters and let someone help me swim. I only knew how to swim by myself.

Things started to calm down and return to our “normal,” and then the beeping happened. Late one night on the couch, I heard it. It’s crazy to think how a rhythmic beeping can completely derail someone, but it did derail me. Once I realized that beeping was coming from within my chest, I completely panicked. I was paralyzed with fear because no one told me what happened after the beeping. I was expecting to get shocked again, and I laid on the couch trying to prepare myself to be shocked again with tears soaking my face. That beeping lead to yet another surgery. Again a minor surgery, but it left me with more trauma. This trauma was my final push over the edge. This trauma and that damn beeping triggered my flight or fight mode. I haven’t been able to turn that flight or fight mode off since surgery. My nervous system is in a constant heightened state, causing me to be on edge ALL of the time. This is also known as PTSD.

Chronic PTSD is common when someone suffers constant medical trauma. I’d say ten surgeries in total could be considered constant medical trauma. Needless to say that my home and sanctuary I worked so hard to build has been absolutely demolished. I have been an absolute disaster since February. I have been on edge, filled with anger and rage. Things that would have never bothered me before are now setting me off. Then I have days when I can barely keep myself from falling apart. All the while, I’m trying to figure out my relationship and how to let someone else in, how to communicate what’s going on with my body and in my head. How to have a normal functioning relationship when right now nothing about me is normal and functioning. Anytime I’ve let someone, who wasn’t biologically programmed to love and care for me, see this extremely vulnerable side of me, I’ve been disappointed. As much as I loved them and wanted them there at that moment, after the surgery, when things got really tough for me, I was always let down. I was shown that it was easier to depend on myself. Creating a sense of hyper-independency.

Hyper-independence with the inability to ask for help and PTSD makes being sick and in a relationship so easy 🙄. And now my health is getting worse. Memorial Day weekend, I ended up in the ER. On my way to work, I had to pull over because my heart was going crazy, and I was so lightheaded I thought I would pass out. Then I ended up in the ER again a week later. No real answers and a ton of questions. Multiple conversations with multiple doctors later, I had an echocardiogram, wore a heart monitor, had a tilt table test, and downloaded the data from my new pacemaker. In the meantime, I had done my own research and could already tell from my symptoms what was going on. Then I got the call of, “you have decreased function in your right ventricle,” on my birthday with no further explanation. I had to wait a week for the final confirmation that my pulmonary valve was leaking again and causing all my issues, well, I think most of my issues.

Here I am, sitting in my house on my couch, three dogs and a boyfriend sleeping on me, and I’m happy. I’m happy at this moment. Happy that I have someone who is willing to be there when things are bad, to be patient with me when I’m an emotional basket case, and to ask questions to do his best to understand. I’m letting someone into a home that I no longer have. My body and my mind are out of my control. I’m once again in medical limbo. I know what’s to come, and I think that makes it worse this time. I know how bad things will get before they get better, and I know how hard the recovery is, not just the physical but the mental recovery. I’m going to have to rebuild my home, my sanctuary, and figure out life with a new valve and a new scar.

Trauma changes you. It re-wires your brain. Recognizing your trauma and working actually to heal also changes you. The amount I have changed and the person I’ve become is astonishing. Mental health is so essential for a taboo subject. Your trauma can spill over into your relationships. Identifying it so you can communicate it properly is equally important. Remember that you can look for that feeling of home in another person or different places, but you’ll never truly find it until you realize you are your home.

Health, Personal Growth, Self love

In the end I just want things to be simple…

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It has been months since I have sat down and wrote anything for myself. I haven’t written anything outside of school or cards. Writing is one of the best outlets for me. Honestly, I have not done any of the things I typically use as an outlet in months. I have been in such a weird place. I have been in this strange survival mode, and when I finally got out of that, I was in catch-up mode. Only to go right back into survival mode and to now find myself back in catch-up mode. It’s been a vicious cycle. I tell you what, survival mode really messes with your psyche. There were points over the past four months where I felt like a stranger to myself. I felt as if I were outside of myself looking in. I did not recognize myself. It had been a few years since I was in full-on survival mode, and I had honestly forgotten how dark that could get. It sometimes felt as if I was swimming against the current, and even though I was doing everything in my power to stay afloat and fight, there was no outward progress. When things get that dark, I tend to become overly critical of myself. Who knows why? Maybe my therapist could tell me, but I re-evaluate every little thing. I judge myself for everything. I overthink EVERYTHING. I have felt distant from everyone in my life since November. I felt like I was unable to really connect with anyone at all. I’ve been in my head over-analyzing.

Feeling like you can’t connect with anyone will mess with your head too. I have all of this stuff I want to say and want to discuss, but I’m distracted. I can’t engage properly, and then I felt as if everyone could see it. There were times where I would be talking to friends, and it just felt forced. Or awkward silences while sitting with my boyfriend where I thought he was thinking to himself, “what am I doing?” I know that I only felt these things. I was the one feeling disconnected. I was the one in a dark place and lost in the aftermath of survival mode. Recognizing this doesn’t make it any easier. The depression that creeps in isn’t talked about. There is no preparation for it, even if you know it’s coming. It’s serious. So severe that I stand in front of the mirror and cry over the changes in my body. When I know, I should be patient and give myself a break, but I legitimately have no control. Or when I am feeling disconnected and behave differently, all the while knowing I am acting differently. When you’re in survival mode, nothing matters but getting through the hurdle in your way. Everything hits you after the fact. The laying in bed worrying about complications in your surgery or that what if’s that could happen aren’t mentally dealt with until it’s all said and done.

I’ve sat awake at night recently trying to process all of this. I am trying to mentally claw my way out of this darkness that is in my head. The only positive that comes from this darkness and survival mode is that when you’re overthinking and criticizing yourself, you have these moments of clarity. Or what others may refer to as spiritual shifts, epiphanies, realizations, etc., whatever you want to call it. At least for me, I prioritize things. I get a chance to see what really means something to me. I can see how I need to shake off the fluff and focus on what matters. With my surgeries and 2020 being the mess it was, I’ve had points when I shook off the excess and tried to refocus. I’m currently in a position of refocusing and slowly getting out of my depressive state, and prioritizing.

Things I thought mattered now seem so ridiculous. All the things I thought I once wanted seem like a different life. The person coming out of this darkness is one I don’t entirely recognize. I’m now a much simpler person. The thought of, “what if I don’t wake up from this surgery” or “what if while my pacemaker is out or off I go into v-fib and that’s it?” All of those kinds of thoughts change things. Over the last 15 months, I’ve realized how much I want a simple life. I want comfort and meaningful moments. I don’t need to have the nicest and newest things. I don’t need a bunch of convenient friends. I’d rather have a few close ones. I don’t need the fluff, the excess, the materialistic crap. I want a quiet life somewhere where I can have all the dogs. Go on vacation when I want to so I can continue to broaden my horizons. I want a roof over my head, food on my table, and, honestly, dirt on my hands and the soles of my feet. I want more meaning that makes sense to me. I don’t care how it looks to others. All my tears in front of the mirror over new scars or a few extra pounds need to mean something more.

My body went through hell twice in ten weeks. My mind hasn’t come out of hell in the past four months. Making the changes to get me to the place I want to be mentally will be a process. I just want a simple life that when I lay in the bed before my 11th surgery, which will inevitably happen, and I think, “what happens if this is it?” I want to be content with my answer. I want to be able to say that my life has been all I ever wanted it to be. I don’t want to have doubt or wish I would’ve done things differently. I want to be able to walk away with my mind and heart strong enough to keep the darkness out. I don’t want to lose myself and avoid my outlets. I don’t want to feel disconnected. I want to look in the mirror and not have a meltdown because I’m bouncing back from surgery. I just want simple.

Health, Personal Growth, Self love

Be quiet…

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One of my goals for myself this year was to learn how to be quiet. I have a need to fill the silence with anything. Music, my voice, TV, anything that can cut the silence. The silence was always uncomfortable for me. It made the thoughts in my head that I was trying to ignore oh so loud. My anxiety would take over. With this constant need to fill the void that I felt silence created, I missed out on so much.

So, I decided that I would slow down and accept silence. I would practice the art of being quiet. I started being quite more when around my family. Not because I didn’t want to talk to them, but because I wanted to really hear them. You’d be surprised what you can learn about someone when you sit in silence with them. Or when you shut up and actually listen to someone other than yourself talk.

I didn’t explain this goal to anyone. I decided it was something I was doing for myself, and it was better left unsaid. When I got back from my trip to Hawaii with my sister’s family, she asked my mom if I had fun because I was quiet. This broke my heart a little. My sister thought I didn’t have fun because I was actually quiet for a change 🤦🏻‍♀️. I was so quiet because I wanted to be genuinely in these moments with them. I tried to soak in every little detail. The experience, the scenery (which will leave you speechless anyway), and all those little moments with them that I’ll never get again. I was quiet and present. I loved every second of that trip with them, but my seemingly sudden behavior change had my sister confused.

This year has been the perfect year to start the practice of being quiet. As we all know, this year has been a shit show. All of the unknown, drastic changes to normal everyday life, and forced quality time with your loved ones, known as quarantine, I honed my ability to be silent. I’ve finally mastered the art of comfortable silence. I no longer feel a need to fill a void.

This morning I wasn’t able to fall back asleep after being woken up. Most mornings, it’s easy for me to slip back into slumber, but today not so much. I laid in bed. The only noises were coming from my fan and Eleanor with her labored breathing. Staring at my ceiling, I was overwhelmed by the stillness. The stillness I tend to miss because even when being quiet, I’m usually moving or active in some way. I eventually moved myself out to my back patio. Sitting here now, I’ve listened to birds and neighbors awaken. I’ve watched the sun slowly creep into the sky. I’ve heard Eleanor and Herschey hunt for lizards. I’ve felt the air go from crisp and slightly cool to humid and warm. I soaked in all of this because I woke up with the weight of the world on my shoulders. I was lying in bed this morning, and the shock of yesterday had finally disappeared. My indifference was gone and an overwhelming heaviness was sitting in my chest. I felt the need to sit in silence and observe. I feel the need to be quiet more than ever now. The need to soak in every second of the next 5 1/2 weeks.

Personal Growth, Self love

Being truthful…

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Virginia Woolf once said, “If you do not tell the truth about yourself, you cannot tell it about other people.” When I write, that is what I try to do. I try to tell my truth. I try to make sure that when I tell my story, I try to be unapologetically truthful. I talk about things we all try to keep hidden, anxiety, depression, mental health awareness, etc.. I try not to be redundant in my writing, and I try my hardest to be relatable. To let others know that they’re not alone. We all have heavy stuff we carry.

My life has been filled with heaviness. Heaviness that I have a hard time sharing with others. Heaviness that eats away at me. Writing has been my way to lift some of that weight. To be able to talk about it. To be able to grow as a person. The last couple of weeks have been profoundly heavy on me.

The saying when times get tough, you find out who your friends are, is true. Over the past few years, I’ve let go of people who showed me they were only surface friends. In the last six weeks, I’ve learned a few more hard lessons with friends. People whom I would’ve bent over backward for proved themselves not to do the same. I’m aware that we’re all at ages now where we are adults and have our own busy lives, but part of being an adult and a friend is knowing when to be there for someone else. Those of you that have been there that have genuinely cared to know the real answer to “how are you” and those of you that have shown up; I can not thank you enough. You’ve helped me open my eyes to who is more than a surface friend. I’m finally at peace with my circle becoming smaller.

The last six weeks weren’t just about opening my eyes with my relationships in my life. There was a great deal of reflection about my life. I’ve repeatedly been told my options are limited and I’m complicated. I’ve come to have a love-hate relationship with this complexity. I love that everything about me is complex. I’m a light, bubbly person, but once you get to know me, you see that there is much more beneath all of that. As my best friend, Madison, told me last night, “there’s so much concealed under your outgoing, upbeat personality.” She’s not wrong and what she said sat with me all night. I love the complexity of my being in that sense but hate it in the medical sense. Being complicated in the medical world is not a hidden beauty. It’s messy, and no one wants to be messy. It’s caused me to be filled with fear. I live every day with fear. Fear of the unknown because the unknown in this situation usually points to death.

People are always saying things about how quickly life can change and how we need to live in the moment. How often do you find someone doing that? I feel as if we only think about life that way when something terrible happens. In the last few weeks, I’ve repeatedly told myself that if it doesn’t bring me happiness or serve me in a positive manner that I need to cut it out. But we rarely take our own advice, do we? It wasn’t until I spent a Tuesday morning with my friend Lilly that it all came full circle. Everyone needs a Lilly in their life, and for those of you that know her, aren’t we lucky. She has provided me with an endless amount of entertainment, a safe space, and a love like no other. Sometimes we view things differently, and one of us has to adjust our outlook to overcome the disconnect, and that, my friends, is a healthy friendship. So, we’re sitting on her couch on a Tuesday afternoon after having a good morning. I’m getting ready to leave for a doctor’s appointment, and she can visibly see the fear on my face. For some reason, just to have her acknowledge that she can not begin to comprehend my fear, but has genuinely tried to, as well as how much she sits with it because she loves me, was precisely what I needed to hear. I felt seen at that moment. I had someone look me in the eye and hold back their pain to tell me that they didn’t understand mine, but they tried to, and she wasn’t going to give me advice but that she supported me in whatever choice I made. This was exactly what I had needed at that moment, and Lilly tends to always deliver in those moments of need. I found myself reflecting on our conversation the whole way to Pensacola, reflecting on how I needed to take my own advice, how I needed to remove things that no longer positively serve me. I need to do what makes me happy and stop caring if others understand what that looks like because I have people other than my family, like Lilly and Madison, who will always support me. I have friends that are genuine.

So now I’m at another turning point in my life. I’m lying in a hospital starting a new medication that has the potential to help me or severely cause damage. I’m discussing possibly having another surgery. With all of this unknown and all of the potential life-changing things that can happen, I’m trying to remind myself that I need to take my own advice. I’m no longer going to sit at tables where I might be the topic of discussion when I get up. I’m going to stop caring about what my happiness looks like to others. I’m going to continue sharing my truth even if others don’t understand why. I’m going to try to continue to share my heaviness and make sure others know they’re not alone. I’m going to try and live unapologetically.