Writing with Courage

"Courage is doing what you are afraid to do. There can be no courage unless you're scared." -Eddie Rickenbacker

I realize I don’t have distance on my hospitalizations and depression, so I’m scared to write about it. If I examine that fear, I discover that it is more about not wanting to feel uncomfortable, knowing I’m making the reader uncomfortable. Comfort can be a prison that too many do not escape. I understand that it can be immature to be so blunt, bold, and fierce with my most private thoughts. I also know that I have a sickness that I am learning to deal with. It is a sickness that the majority of people, either don't believe in, or at least can’t stand to hear about it. What does that tell those who are sick? The disease takes over ones rationality, so they already have a distorted, negative self-image. If we, as a society, are telling those who suffer from depression that their illness is not real or that it's not okay to talk about--just to make our own selves feel more at ease; that is selfish. To a depressed person, both of those reactions are the same as if you were telling them it is their fault. They already feel like it is their fault, so any outside voices suggesting even remotely the same thing will be much louder than those who validate their sickness.

I can’t let fear for what other people think of me stop me from writing truth. It will be hard to take such intense pieces of writing to my creative non-fiction class, considering I know pretty much the whole class from different places. I will not want to feel so vulnerable so quickly in there, but I feel like this is urgent. I want to write essays that creep people out, forcing them to realize how depression is truly a sickness that changes a person’s logic. I want my essays to make people angry and cry. On top of all of this, I want my essays to make people laugh and show some sort of beauty even in the midst of a tragedy.

That’s a lot I want to do this semester with my writing. I would rather dream big, though, and fall short, then sell myself short and just never try. I need and deserve to be heard. It’s all about persistence and passion. I think I have both.

Here Comes the Sun

Things are really looking up for me. I'm proud of everything I have accomplished this summer. I still cannot get over the fact that last Monday night, in a matter of moments, I made the independent decision that I was going to move back to school the next morning in order to attend Partial. I packed my clothes (luckily, most my things were already packed due to putting our house on the market) even in the middle of my hysterical crying fit. I am thankful Kristin was able to sit and listen to me whine and feel sorry for myself without judging me.

I feared that I should go back to the psych. unit, but it was late, and my mom didn't think she could stay awake to drive that long of a distance. I settled for my night time pills, a nice shower, and a massage from Ashlee to calm me down enough to sleep.

I woke up bright and early, said goodbye to everyone (after my mom took me to the gas station to get gas and put air in my tires), and drove alone on the expressway for my first time, conquering my paralyzing driving anxiety. I left a voicemail for the people at partial, warning them I was coming that day, and after 2 hours of driving alone, I rang the doorbell, was greeted by the nurse, and signed myself into partial.

I worked very hard every day, and I am grateful to the wonderful people at partial (patients and workers). In just four days, I felt confident enough to begin classes on Monday. I would never have guessed I would progress so quickly. The workers at partial were very proud of me, too. On the last day, the therapist told me that they always teach relapse prevention classes, but very few people follow their instructions. He said in his 20 years of working there, he could probably count on one hand the patients who have returned to them before a full-blown relapse. He also set me up with a therapist here in town. It was not planned this way, but it turned out to be in walking distance from my apartment. It will be so nice to not have to deal with getting a cab service.

Plus, I had an amazing first session with her. She is very to-the-point, and pieced details of my life together very quickly. She also told me to call her cell even if it is three in the morning should I ever find myself in a position where I need to go to the hospital again. I don't foresee that happening, but I am still pretty unstable in the sense that I feel very excited about my progress or just overwhelmed with grief about what I've been through.

I have had wonderful support from family and friends. Thank you all again. I am now taking ownership for my recovery, but it is certainly easier to keep fighting when I have people giving me hugs, listening, and sending positive messages. I see the sun on the horizon. It got so dark, I finally saw the stars, and now I'm moving on and looking to the morning.

Float On

"Alright, already, we'll all float on. Alright, don't worry, even if things end up a bit too heavy, we'll all float on."-Modest Mouse

I am sore this morning. I don't know why. I might go rollerblading after this. Rollerblading is apparently not a proper word. Every time I spell it, there is a red line under it. I even try it as two words, but it still fails. I guess it has to be rollerblade. It underlines it when I put an "s" on the end, too. That is so weird. I should take that question to a linguist professor I'm facebook friends with. My English club was trying to organize a panel where we had a linguist, a literature prof., and a creative writing prof. too let them duke it out over language.

I have felt worse the past couple of weeks, but overall they have been decent. I spent a couple of nights with some of my best friends from high school. It was so nice to be able to catch up on each other's lives and just lounge around together. Even grocery shopping was fun. We got one of those newer carts for kids where there is a seat/bench sort of thing in between the bar you push the cart with and the actual cart. We took turns sitting in the chair and getting pushed through the isles. Dash was dancing in the isles, and Dawn and Kristin kept making sick faces and using gross voices. I was laughing a good portion of the time.

Last night, I went to a gathering with some of the people from the S. Dakota trips. We drew medicine cards again. This time I drew a jaguar. I guess that represents integrity, and it talked about the importance of staying humble and what an amazing trait forgiveness is. I certainly have some forgiving to do, but I also think that I should stand up for myself for once in my life--I almost see that as part of my integrity, because I really believe in standing up for myself in a respectful way.

I'm very nervous about returning to school. I have a lot of work to make up, and I have had one hell of a time getting an appointment with my psychiatrist and a therapist. I think today I am going to try to call the psychologist I saw a few times my freshman year. I even considered going back to partial this week because that would ease my transition back and allow me to see my psychiatrist on Friday. I don't know if I am really in the kind of shape that could require going to partial. I worry that I am not that bad, and I don't want to be depending on resources that I don't really need. It's tricky because I am not yet needing a program like partial, but I start classes a week from today, and I don't want to continue to get worse and then decide I need more extreme treatment once classes start. I don't know if I can go to partial as more of a preventative step. I probably should call them.

I just can't seem to get out this slump

Life has been hectic. I find I'm getting overwhelmed easier, and I haven't been sleeping as well as I was. It could just be this awful transitional period I'm stuck in. I am scared to go back to school and work. I fear I won't be able to keep up; I think I'm most terrified of relapsing--of going back to the emotional hell I was in and the physical experience of being paralyzed and in the hospital.

I had a good final therapy session yesterday. My therapist talked about how I need to acknowledge how traumatic the three hospitalizations were and realize that I got through it, so I don't really have to be so scared of relapsing, because I have proven to myself that I can keep fighting even when I feel like I have nothing left. She also said that I am probably still in some sort of shock about everything that happened, because I worked myself until I couldn't anymore, and I am functioning and pushing myself again, so it would be easier if I could just pretend this never happened. She said the grief will hit me at some point, so I need to allow myself plenty of time to recover and grieve. I think the key to my success this semester will be to be much more forgiving of myself than I usually am: if I need a break, I will take it, regardless of what other people think. I need to trust my instincts about how I am feeling. I will also need to remember to compliment myself when I am doing well. It's easy to look past everything that's going right and focus on the negative.

Yesterday was one of those days where all I could focus on was negative things. It was like I was using it as a defense mechanism, trying not to feel happy and then be disappointed because I was short on energy. I just felt tired physically and mentally from the second I woke up. I also was purposely focusing on all of the hurtful things that people I love have done to me, so I could push them away. I felt unlovable, so I did what I could to be unlovable. It is like a self-fulfilling prophecy because then I feel guilty and ugly for things I say to people I love to push them away, so then I get down on myself and feel more unlovable, so then I isolate myself more.

I went to bed in tears, and I was able to comfort myself by remembering what my therapist told me about clinical depression. She said most people get depressed for some reason or another during their lifetime, but that clinical depression is something completely different. I tried to remind myself that it's okay to have bad days, and even though I wasn't the lovable person I try to be most days, I also have been through a lot this summer, and I should be proud of my progress and forgiving when I feel depressed for no reason. It is my natural instinct to get angry when I feel depressed for no reason. I feel angry that I feel so bad, I get angry that I don't have a reason to feel depressed because I still feel depressed, and I get mad that I have let people walk all over me in the past. I get angry, and I turn into more of a fighter

On a lighter note, Laura got me new bearings and wheels for my skateboard. It is 10 times faster, and I had a blast riding it last night. I really need to invest in a helmet, though! Next week, I am moving back to school. I'm scared and still hurt by several people up there, so I don't want to go. I am going back as a new person--I've got a new wardrobe, new shoes, new music, new hope.

This has gotten long, considering I am rambling. I would really like to update this more in the next week or so. It will be hard when i get back to school, but I think I should self-reflect via blogging more often.

Another Entry I'm too Tired to Proof Read

My computer has been in and out of the Apple Repair shop three different times. I did not blog during all of this, and that is why.

I am taking a lot of things in--learning to feel again. It can be very positive or incredibly painful. The way my spirit can die and be reborn intrigues and amazes me. I am so different from the person I was 6 months ago. My priorities, my beliefs, me friendships, my ideas about relationships, and my poetry are all changed.

I am less anxious since everything I have been through. I think hitting the bottom helped me realize that I can still push off of it to surface and breathe--makes it seem less scary. My anxiety is still very real, but it is less paralyzing. A good example is when I drove to Ann Arbor last week. I am still too anxious to drive downtown, and I was a little anxious driving to the mall. Once I did it, I was so proud of myself and confident. I bought myself a shirt as a reward, and I was able to talk myself out of the guilt I felt for spending money I don't have.

I'm eating Sun Chips right now, and I wonder why I can't lose the ten pounds my meds caused me to gain. Today my mom bought me new bras and pants because I am too big for all of them. It's nice to have pants that fit, but it was discouraging to try on a pair that was still too tight in the thighs. It made me want to cry, because I can't find bras or jeans that fit right because my body has changed so much. I have been doing a really great job at sticking with working out. My arms are stronger than they have been since High School. I haven't seen as much results with the cardio workouts I do, but I am amazed at how fast we can improve at lifting. Seeing such quick and drastic results from lifting weights with my arms, has given me concrete evidence of my health improving. Sometimes it is easy for me to think I am still sick as ever, but thinking about how much stronger I am, both physically and mentally, keeps me from relapsing because I realize what a long way I have come.

I am off for the evening. I have a busy day tomorrow: ride bike to work out, bike home, shower, make Ashley a card for her nun party, do hair/make up, get dressed up, and attend mass where she makes her vows, eat dinner there, party with the nuns, and before I know it, it will be night time :)