Short Change

I feel like I go into everything half blind. Too anxious to figure it all out, or maybe too scared to know the answers before me. I feel constantly afraid in a world I used to revel in the unknown. But all that’s left in me is the fear other’s instilled so long ago. Being the sufferer of things like mental health disorders brings an open invitation to those who like to make harsh judgments even when they know that it’s this party they weren’t invited to. I always believed that to judge someone is to say you’ve walked in their shoes and know better what to do then them, and that isn’t possible so you should never be able to judge. Who wants to anyway? Judgments are always harsh, bring about pain and in the end have no positive recourse. But society is always a part of them and I can never figure out why. Why do people think that those with mental health issues are crazy? Or that were not really suffering? Or event that were using it as an excuse? Do any of these really sound plausible? Would I really be out for attention when all I do is try to hide the suffering I go through? Just to make sure you don’t have to have pain by dealing with me, I conceal the one thing halting my growth. You said karma cut me clean, but karma came and gave me a life unknown that I had to pay for. I didn’t think that anyone should have to live a life of suffering when they had already lived their lives trying to keep others from suffering in the least. Where’s the balance here? Is there something I need to figure out that is a bigger reason than just me? Was there a point to all of this? Or did I need to learn some lessons that I constantly was studying for anyways? I wonder what makes some of us more susceptible than others? But for all of those that judge, they think I must be weak in the first place to be calling my disorder a disorder. But it’s true, because the order is so out of whack when you suffer. There is no rhyme or reason to anything except this: Only the strongest are the ones to truly suffer because the weak wouldn’t be able to handle what it has to offer.

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Say What You Want…

People always say that when you get suicidal you’ve hit bottom but I don’t believe that. I got suicidal because my depression topped out, winning over everything inside of me. There was no bottom about it, except for how low I felt. Fifteen years ago I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder and wish I’d known what that was, because I’m learning more about it, now that I’m coming out of it. And that’s what I want to express, that there is a possible way out. It can happen. There’s so much I wish people told us as young children, so we wouldn’t have to always find out the hard way.I’d started to hear about depression in my teens and just assumed it was something I’d never get. But low and behold I have and my biggest fears were of what was to come. And back then no one talked about it and I’d not known of anyone else to have the same disorder so my loneliness became very popular inside of me. That was when I turned to blogs to read other people’s stories and words of wisdom from their perspective. I was always looking for that magical piece of advise when I was 19 and freshly diagnosed. I thought that if someone could just tell me what to do, I’ll do it in a heartbeat and then let’s get back to the old me. What a great wish that was. But then, a nurse once asked me if I could handle just this second. And as I said yes, she told me, “Even in your darkest moments, ask yourself if you can handle just this second and breathe.” “Remind yourself that life is an allotment of seconds to be had, and if you can make it through one, then just focus on the next, not minute, the next second.” And she kissed my forehead and walked out. I’ve tried medications that don’t work, doctors that don’t do their job, and therapists that were going through some terrible things themselves and relied on me to help them instead of vice versa. These years have been hard, but one thing I really believe is that suffering is for the strong because the weak woudn’t be able to handle it. I’d get through a day, realize how hard that day was and the fact that I was still there, doing the last thing that I knew how to do, which was to breathe meant I’d made it. I really had to be strong to make it that far. And that was just a day. Fifteen years later I wish I could tell anyone that suffers just that. That that one piece of advice may not be out there, but if you listen to your heart, even when you think you have nothing left, you do. Because if you’ve made it through a hard day then you’ve still got your strength, which means there must be a little hope still in there as well. If you can keep those things alive, you can make it through another day, and another and may be able to find the time when you’re saying I think I’m coming out of it too. A lot of posts I would read would tell people the signs of depression, and I feel like if you really think you are depressed, then you probably are, it’s just hard to get past the denial of it. I read a post just today that hit home. I’d taken the morning after pill one day that didn’t work and I wound up pregnant. To this day, I’d wondered how that could happen and I read a post that says it’s not as effective for people over 175lbs. Closure is huge with me and today I got to understand something that had happened right before my depression hit, which was my pregnancy. Today I feel a little better than yesterday because I got this closure. Life really chooses different paths for all of us, and while I’m not apt to shaking my booty on the bow anymore, I sure am getting back to listening to the music I love, and just hope that everyone gets a chance to.

Hope

When I was a little girl we used to have a sailboat. My dad would blare oldies and I’d get up on the bow and swing with the best of them. I’d shake my little ass and boats that would pass by would laugh and start mimicking me, waving in delight. That was me. Nothing terrified me, and nothing could. I wanted to try it all, get into it all, and be all that I thought life would allow at the time. Fast forward twenty years and I can’t even attempt suicide it’d draw too much attention. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve almost tried it once, but the thought of people even looking in my direction makes me want to shy away now.

When I was a little girl we used to have a sailboat. My dad would blare oldies and I’d get up on the bow and swing with the best of them. I’d shake my little ass and boats that would pass by would laugh and start mimicking me, waving in delight. That was me. Nothing terrified me, and nothing could. I wanted to try it all, get into it all, and be all that I thought life would allow at the time. Fast forward twenty years and I can’t even attempt suicide it’d draw too much attention. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve almost tried it once, but the thought of people even looking in my direction makes me want to shy away now.
People always say that when you get suicidal you’ve hit bottom but I don’t believe that. I got suicidal because my depression topped out, winning over everything inside of me. There was no bottom about it, except for how low I felt. Fifteen years ago I was diagnosed with majoy depressive disorder and wish I’d known what that was, because I’m learning more about it, now that I’m coming out of it. And that’s what I want to express, that there is a possible way out. It can happen. There’s so much I wish people told us as young children, so we wouldn’t have to always find out the hard way.I’d started to hear about depression in my teens and just assumed it was something I’d never get. But low and behold I have and my biggest fears were of what was to come. And back then no one talked about it and I’d not known of anyone else to have the same disorder so my loneliness became very popular inside of me. That was when I turned to blogs to read other people’s stories and words of wisdom from their perspective. I was always looking for that magical piece of advise when I was 19 and freshly diagnosed. I thought that if someone could just tell me what to do, I’ll do it in a heartbeat and then let’s get back to the old me. What a great wish that was. But then, a nurse once asked me if I could handle just this second. And as I said yes, she told me, “Even in your darkest moments, ask yourself if you can handle just this second and breathe.” “Remind yourself that life is an allotment of seconds to be had, and if you can make it through one, then just focus on the next, not minute, the next second.” And she kissed my forehead and walked out. I’ve tried medications that don’t work, doctors that don’t do their job, and therapists that were going through some terrible things themselves and relied on me to help them instead of vice versa. These years have been hard, but one thing I really believe is that suffering is for the strong because the weak woudn’t be able to handle it. I’d get through a day, realize how hard that day was and the fact that I was still there, doing the last thing that I knew how to do, which was to breathe meant I’d made it. I really had to be strong to make it that far. And that was just a day. Fifteen years later I wish I could tell anyone that suffers just that. That that one piece of advice may not be out there, but if you listen to your heart, even when you think you have nothing left, you do. Because if you’ve made it through a hard day then you’ve still got your strength, which means there must be a little hope still in there as well. If you can keep those things alive, you can make it through another day, and another and may be able to find the time when you’re saying I think I’m coming out of it too. A lot of posts I would read would tell people the signs of depression, and I feel like if you really think you are depressed, then you probably are, it’s just hard to get past the denial of it. I read a post just today that hit home. I’d taken the morning after pill one day that didn’t work and I wound up pregnant. To this day, I’d wondered how that could happen and I read a post that says it’s not as effective for people over 175lbs. Closure is huge with me and today I got to understand something that had happened right before my depression hit, which was my pregnancy. Today I feel a little better than yesterday because I got this closure. Life really chooses different paths for all of us, and while I’m not apt to shaking my booty on the bow anymore, I sure am getting back to listening to the music I love, and just hope that everyone gets a chance to.

Stage Fright

Now, it’s like I walk from point A to point B all the while wondering what the point was from the beginning. I breathe because it’s the last thing I know how to do, and just do. I don’t have to think about it. But if I were on that stage that’s all you would hear. Breathing. One breathe after the other, until someone would finally make me out and realize, wow, she’s living in fear of even herself, and that’ s the last fear she has is of that last breathe. That it won’t be to a beat she danced to by herself or with the whole room, living the life she’d always wanted. Never to care if anyone was watching, and knowing that to breathe was to live, and that in itself was owning any stage

When I was a little girl we used to have a sailboat. My dad would blare oldies and I’d get up on the bow and swing with the best of them, I’d shake my little ass and boats that would pass by would laugh and start mimicking me, waving in delight. That was me. Nothing terrified me, and nothing could. I wanted to try it all, get into it all, and be all that I thought life would allow at the time. Fast forward twenty years and I can’t even attempt suicide it’d draw too much attention. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve almost tried it once, but the thought of people even looking in my direction makes me want to shy away now.  I constantly wonder what people are thinking when they look at me today. “What’s going on inside of you?” I’d think. “Are you in the same place I am, just looking for another person to fly solo with you?” Because if there are people out there that are going through this, I never met any. And the internet wasn’t as popular when I was nineteen, so isolation was doubled back then. All I was ever told was, “You should really go see someone.” And so I would. Another therapist just meant another basket case, I’d come to realize. It seemed like all the ones I was destined to see were almost worse off than myself. So then I decided to start writing, because nothing else was getting me anywhere. It felt like no one got it. Like no one understood how lonely loneliness was. And I realized, I wasn’t necessarily looking for someone to lend an ear. I just needed to vent. Vent to everything that things seemed to be bullshit. People aren’t as becoming anymore. The world is full of one disaster after the next. We all talk about the dramatic news vs the news of people doing great things, it seemed like. And no one was being real. Then I started reading blogs, and I liked that I could anonymously read as much or as little as I wanted and actually find some great advice. But still, all I had was me, me and the only thing that would never cease to be at my side, my depression, anxiety, OCD, ADD, PTSD. And every time I’d see a doctor, it wouldn’t work out. Either they were, like I said, a little more off than I could handle, or they’d retire shortly after me seeing them. Either way, I was always left to hunt another one down, and the new one would always argue my diagnosis, thinking it wasn’t possible to have so many at one time, then to see me some more and finally agree. It was like they didn’t trust each other, which made me trust them even less. Until I realized, no one was fighting. No one was fighting for me at least in those offices, and I couldn’t seem to fight for myself. The only one who was doing all of the fighting was the depression itself into all that I had left.

Depression carries the weight of its word into life right away. To be depressed is to have a compression somewhere or an indent strong enough for the eye to see there’s a concave “spoon” looking thing that is actually depressed. Maybe that’s why they say it’s happening to people. Our mouths go from a smile to something sad happening and our lips forced to go in a half circle downwards. Reminding the mind of a concave “depressed” shape. But that’s not the only physical repercussion of depression. There’s many more that doctor’s don’t talk about, and many that they say will go away with medication but I wish there were the ones that would tell me the truth. That there is a possibility that nothing can help. That time, is really your answer. Then there’s the inner part of depression. The part that starts off almost as an itch, grows into a full blown body rash that you can never scratch away. “Why am I feeling this all over?” I’d think. I could feel it everywhere inside my body. My brain suddenly wasn’t the only thing sucked dry. My legs weak, thighs much heavier and a head literally strained to keep it upright. All you can do is try to figure out what’s going on. I’d heard of depression and thought, “well, all I’ve heard about it is being sad all of the time and I am, but there’s so much more. They never talked about more.” What about doing absolutely anything to get through each day as it falls deeper into the shell of depression. This shell however, would only echo tears if you put it up to my ear.

My anxiety gets worse and hits strong. I suddenly always feel like I’m the one woman show on stage and I’m supposed to be funny but the only joke I can think of is one that I’d heard years before where a woman wants to start looking good so she tell her boyfriend she’s going to lose weight and start exercising, but her man says, “Yeah, but you can’t run your face off.” It still makes me laugh to this day. Probably the only thing I find remotely humorous anymore. That and when other people fall.

Now, my anxiety is at a whole new level. I’ve started blacking out when I have to get up in school and talk in front of people. I’d start off a sentence and then everything goes blank. It’s literally dark black in my head and I almost feel faint. People used to think I was really outgoing and I am…when I’m in my comfort zone. If you’re in my comfort zone, you can expect someone super goofy and out there. But for the most part, being out there is just sitting in the background, hoping not to be noticed now. If I just don’t talk maybe no one will talk to me. And for the most part it works. It’s weird how I used to be such a social butterfly. I was on the phone so much that when the internet came out my brother gave all of us screen names and mine was Onphn247. I never stopped being a chatterbox whether it was in school or out. But since I was 19, everything has slowed down to the point that my age surpassed long ago. You’d think I was ancient.  The thought of getting in front of people is almost worse than seeing a spider and I never thought I’d find anything worse than that. I miss my friends. I miss my parents. And I really miss my brother. I’ve isolated myself from everything I can think of. Hell, I actually miss who I was. I was a good person, once. I felt worth something. I’ve never been easy on myself but who is? I’m my own worst enemy and some of the critiques I give myself are a little brash. That’s my one woman show. How to beat yourself to a pulp, by Andrea. Exiting is my best feature. Man, do I know how to walk away or run from things. I’m just great at getting off of the stage. It’s the lack of hope inside of me that leads me on there in the first place. It’s like I’m frightened of people that look at me, frightened of people seeing the real me, hell, I’m frightened of getting on that stage and just reminding myself even, that I am here. I miss the days where dancing by yourself was ok. When you could dance like no one was watching because you weren’t taking everything so seriously. Now, it’s like I walk from point A to point B all the while wondering what the point was from the beginning. I breathe because it’s the last thing I know how to do, and just do. I don’t have to think about it. But if I were on that stage that’s all you would hear. Breathing. One breathe after the other, until someone would finally make me out and realize, wow, she’s living in fear of even herself, and that’ s the last fear she has is of that last breathe. That it won’t be to a beat she danced to by herself or with the whole room, living the life she’d always wanted. Never to care if anyone was watching, and knowing that to breathe was to live, and that in itself was owning any stage.

Circles

As I look up, you let me down. When I pull you in, from the lost and found. Whether the day is good, or my mindset bad. You turn away now, getting all mad. And I sacrifice, while you take it all, never knowing when the day will call, the guards away to seek me afraid, once so happy to be, sentenced with good in the day. Youre the one who taught me, and told me so. To lead on from behind and to just let go. Remember me and the words I say, always to you, from a heart that’s at bay. I will leave and you will heed, the words of a girl, that once you would need. Only to quite her and say you didnt mind. That day you went away, from a world left behind. From a place unknkown, undone and unshown, is me, from behind, the glasses you see, stark and unkind. From the remnants of you, turning this world into the blue. And in the darkest of minds is someone so true. Ready to come out, to be unveiled. To be seen, and shown, and at last curtailed. To a world from which I see, in a heart so failed, in that which is me.

Judgement Day

Depression is about being lonesome and unworthy even when youre around all of the people in the world and should feel like a million bucks. Its not about being sad. Being sad would be a great day for us. Its about feeling like the world is ending and youre its ultimate demise.Today I am not sad but I spent 15 years in the prime of tears when I should have been in the prime of my life. Everything was halted. I couldnt work, couldnt maintain friendships and simply couldnt get out of bed. I held down jobs on and off again but was always on the finest line of being fired while barely still employed. And some angry at life people thought I used my sickness on purpose to get out of work, thought I used it to be lazy or just thought I used it to use it. Some of you are mean. Because as I got better and better and still didnt have a job, quite frankly life without one suddenly became boring. I did feel lazy. But before I felt like the days took eons to complete yet went by so fast all the same. I couldnt keep up. The thing I’ve come out seeing the most of was judgement. People really do like to judge what they dont understand or what they dont want to put the time into its comprehension. I beg of you to not be ignorant of the lost soul you may not see beside of you. We are out there in vast quantities not wanting to be noticed. Trying to be invisible until life will let us go all the while wanting it to end as fast as we can blink. Dont be ignorant. People say they dont know what depression is but people are just playing dumb. We all know what its like to have bad days and we all dont want them. So if you multiplied that feeling to the Nth degree and add the judgement that comes from others and at times some bullying…youve got it. No you wont know what it feels like but everyone has an idea. A microscopic view of what MDD (major depressive disorder) can bring you. And it doesnt come by itself. It comes with more diagnosis to add and is never alone. So please beware the next time you tell someone to find a hobby, or that its just a bad day. Because you’ll never know how humbled you may become when you are suddenly in the drivers seat of it all. Thats how fast it comes on as well….within that one blink. So the next time you think about mental disorders, please remember the strength in its suffering. Sometimes its tears you cannot blink away.

Guest Post #2 Getting Through It

Having a job in care is nerve wrecking especially with someone who experiences anxiety. I struggle to sleep throughout the night especially if I have work the next day. I check that I set my alarm several times as I am fearful that somehow I will sleep through it. I wake up tired as ever and get ready for work. I try to meditate but I can’t seem to quiet my mind. I shower, eat breakfast and get ready to leave. My anxiety is building. I get in my car and at times I realise that I hold my breath when I drive (subconsciously of course). I don’t know why but driving makes me nervous. I guess it’s the concept of not being in control of what others do on the road is scary. I made it to work so at least I am doing something right. Working with individuals with mental health conditions and learning disabilities is challenging. No two days are the same and it can be very unpredictable. I try my best to remain calm and collected but part of me is just counting down the hours until I am back at home in my personal space. Work is over and now I have to drive home. I blast the music loud in hopes it will distract me and cause me not to be too worried about what may happen. I try to remain positive constantly reminding myself that I will be ok. And I am as I make it home. Each day has its moments. You just have to remain hopeful that better days are coming and they are.

Thank you Candice Williams @https://confidantcandy.com/ or writing this!

If anyone is interested in writing a guest post please email me at andreaholmes0073@gmail.com