Recovering from Self-Harm

I was procrastinating writing my final history paper and came across this article on Facebook. It resonated with me because I have felt all of the things the author described. I hated myself so I cut and then I hated myself for cutting so I cut more. I haven't self-harmed in 4 years next month but I still feel that pull on especially bad days. When I first stopped, it was really hard for me to see those white lines standing out on my arm as proof of what I had done to myself. Summers were especially hard in the next year or two because the rest of my skin tanned around them and I felt like they stood out like neon signs screaming, "Look at me! Look what I did to myself!" I was paranoid that people would see them but in reality, I am the only one who does. Only two clusters are visible in most lighting. But I know where all of them are. In certain lighting I see every single one staring out at me and I feel regret that I ever felt it was necessary to hurt myself. It used to affect me a lot more than it does now. In this case, time is a healer. I don't know if the scars will ever fade, because it's been a long time and they haven't. But the effect they have on me has faded. I still sometimes feel bad when I see them. But for the most part, I accept that they are part of me. A part of me that helped shape who I am. I wouldn't be the mental health awareness advocate that I am today if I hadn't gotten those battle scars from the war with my own mind that spanned about 1/4 of my life. My scars used to make me feel ashamed every time I saw them. Now, for the most part, I see them and realize how far I've come. I'm not that 16 year old girl who hated herself anymore. I'm moving forward. Sometimes it's a slow process, but any progress is still progress. It is possible to stop self-harming, no matter how addicted you are or how hopeless it feels when you try to stop. It is possible to move past it and accept it as a part of your life's story rather than as your defining characteristic. You can do it.

From Someone Who's Been There

My friend shared this video on Facebook today and it resonated with me. I have often thought about what I would say to someone struggling with suicidal thoughts as a survivor. Similar things have been said in the video but here goes. You cannot possibly imagine how good life can get while you're going through this, but it will. It will be more than you could have dreamed of. People need you. Friends, family members, strangers you haven't met yet, they all need you. You will be happier than you thought possible. You will be so grateful that you stayed. Other people will be so grateful that you stayed and (if they know) will tell you so. You are irreplaceable. There are important things that only you can do. Someday you will look back and cry happy tears that you made it. You will be proud of yourself. You will be able to help other people experiencing this in a way that no one who hasn't been where you are can. You are worth so much. It won't seem worth it right away. It will be hard. But years from now, when you've lived a good life, you will NEVER regret not giving up. I was suicidal for about six years. I self-harmed. I attempted suicide eight times. I finally broke that hold on my mind almost two years ago. I am happy. I have a good life. I have hope and plans for the future. Most of all, I am so grateful that I got another chance to live because life is unbelievably worth it. I promise that if you stay, if you keep fighting, it will be worth it for you. You can do this. I love you. I don't know you, but I have so much love and respect for you because I've been where you are now. And I believe in you. If anyone reading this ever needs to talk, I am here. I care. I will listen. Because you are worth it.

Carrying On

I haven't posted in a while because things have been rough. I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia in September. It turned my life upside down. It explained why I was in pain all the time but I can't be treated for it through conventional means because of the medications they normally use for it. Antidepressants. Narcotics. Both types of medications that have previously made me incredibly suicidal. (The only time I've ever taken narcotics of any sort was following my wisdom teeth removal earlier this year and, oh boy, I hadn't been that suicidal since high school when on antidepressants.) So I'm in pain. I had frequent breakdowns in the month following that announcement. I've mostly accepted it now and am working on finding alternative methods to lessen my pain. Despite the utter despair that came from knowing my doctor couldn't do anything to help me with my pain that regularly has me flat on my back unable to move, I'm carrying on. I could have given in to it. It would have been easy. I've done it before when things have seemed hopeless. There were entire years of my life where I had given up because of less serious problems than this. But then I didn't feel like I had something to life for. Something worth moving forward for, even if I had to crawl. Now I do. My life is worth living no matter what problems arise. Believing that is a gigantic leap forward from even two years ago. Even during the darkest days of my depression, I carried on and got where I am today. So can you.

Worst Days

I saw a post a few days ago that said something like, "You've survived 100% of your worst days so far. You're doing great." While this is true for everyone alive, I feel like it's different for people with depression. We've survived so much more than what is typically thought of as a bad day. Personally, I've survived days where I've had panic attacks, hurt myself multiple times, have been incredibly suicidal, have actually attempted suicide, and have felt completely miserable, alone, and like life just isn't worth it. These happen far more frequently than I'd guess "average" bad days do. I used to think "I don't have bad days, I have a bad life." I don't think that as much anymore (only on aforementioned bad days) because I've come to accept that my bad days don't define me. By "bad days" I mean days I'm too depressed to get out of bed or move from the couch, am suicidal, or having such intense anxiety I can't function. Despite the extreme level of badness on those bad days, I have made it through all of them. The amazing thing is that I've survived the ones I truly believed I couldn't live through. If you're reading this, so have you. No matter what you've been through, you've made it anyway. You're still here. You're still fighting. The worst days of depression haven't beaten us. We can do this. We're stronger than we think and we've gotten this far. Go us!

Survivor

I am a survivor. I have lived through bullying at school and abuse at home simultaneously. I have lived through crippling loneliness. I have lived through being trapped in the pit of my own self-loathing. I have survived feeling so sick I physically cannot move. I have survived suicide attempts and self-harming. I survived having abusive roommates once I left my abusive home environment. I survived two nervous breakdowns. I survived a dozen medical tests. I survived feeling unloved most of my life. I survived three years of college and somehow made pretty good grades. I survived not having money for food and living off of microwave popcorn until my next paycheck. I survived countless panic attacks. I survived getting my wisdom teeth out and running out of pain meds too early, being in agonizing pain. I have survived every horrible day I have had in my almost twenty-one years (too many to possibly count). I have survived my life. I have survived all of the terrible situations I have been forced into. I am alive. I am still fighting. I am a survivor. If you keep fighting everything that drags you down, you are a survivor too. In between the moments of survival, there is happiness to be found. That makes everything worth it.

Hindsight and Hope

When I was 17 I started a honeymoon fund. I thought cynically to myself that if I didn't get married by a certain point I would have had enough money to just go to Europe with my best friend. To my great shock, I did get married. I didn't get to go on a real honeymoon (we just had a weekend) because we both had classes on Monday and missing a week of college is a terrible idea. Classes just ended last week so we're finally leaving for our rather belated honeymoon this weekend. I've been looking forward to this trip for months. The money in my honeymoon fund (just barely) covers everything so we don't have to dip into our savings. It's interesting looking back that I even started this fund my freshman year of college. After my parents' divorce and my own nervous breakdown that resulted in hospitalization I really didn't think I'd end up married. But my small scrap of hope amidst all my depression-related doubts eventually led to something that makes me happy. Going back even further (and on an even larger scale) even when I was suicidal in high school I still kept my grades up. I have no idea why I did. I was legitimately planning on killing myself. There was no reason to keep my grades up when I believed I had no future. I was only going to apply to a college I knew I'd get into just so my mom wouldn't be suspicious while I figured out the best way to end my misery. She forced me to apply to the college I'd dreamed of going to since I was five as well. When I actually got in I was shocked. That news was a huge contributing factor to my desire to give life another chance. Going to college has been an amazing experience and I've grown so much as a person, done a lot of healing, and met my husband while I've been here. Somewhere in the back of my mind I must have thought I could make it after all. And I did. To all the people out there who keep trying even though they really don't know why, you'll know why when it pays off later. I promise it will if you just keep going.

Life As a Mentally Ill Psych Major

I'm studying for my Abnormal Psych test right now and am laughing sarcastically at some of the statistics. According to the book, generalized anxiety disorder (which I've had since I was a kid) usually doesn't onset until adulthood. It also says only 5.7% of the American population has it over their lifetime. 5.7%?! Out of the millions upon millions of people in this country only 5.7% deal with anxiety their whole lives. That leaves me in a distinct minority. Don't get me started on depression. I was so upset just reading the textbook chapter that I ditched class both days it was talked about because it hit too close to home. I felt like I was being reduced to a pile of symptoms and statistics and that wasn't a comfortable feeling. I'm sure I'm not the only one who has these sorts of problems because a good chunk of psychology majors I know do have some form of mental illness themselves. There's something oddly poetic about the broken becoming the healers. I'm partly driven by a need to understand why my brain works the why it does but mostly because I don't want anyone to suffer the way I have. Every mentally ill psych major I've met is driven by a similar need. When living with yourself is a nightmare you want to prevent other people from experiencing the same. Even though I know what my reasons are and that my reasons are good, it's still really hard some days. In a way, it's slightly masochistic putting myself through the inevitable discussions about my own mental illnesses and feeling like a bug under a microscope even if I just sit silently in my chair. I keep reminding myself that it will be worth it if I can make any difference at all to someone with depression later on because of those days I have to force myself to sit through class now.

Worth It?

With all of the stressful things going on in my life lately, I've been pretty depressed on a regular basis. Yesterday was especially bad. I hadn't been that suicidal in a long time and it scared me. It was like the past four years of relatively slow progress (but still progress!) were erased. That was the truly scary part. I felt completely hopeless and like life wasn't worth living. My husband was so sweet during all of this and helped me get back to a rational place. After I was sufficiently calmed down, he asked me if I really thought being alive was worth it with all of the physical and mental pain I deal with regularly. I answered honestly: yes it is. I've fought hard to get here. I've fought against myself to live for the better part of six years. Even though life is frequently still difficult and tries to drag me down, you bet it's worth it. I've earned it. I've earned being alive. No matter how depressed I get, life is worth it.

Loving Someone Mentally Ill

Hey everyone. Sorry I haven't posted in a while. Things have been kind of crazy on my end with my getting married and all. Even though I've never been as happy as I have been since marrying my wonderful husband, in the month we've been married I've been thoroughly depressed at least once a week if not more. When this happens he says he feels guilty, like he should be doing more for me. In return I tell him that I've been dealing with this stuff for a long time and that it's not his job to fix me. A couple days after a particularly bad depressive episode, a friend came to me asking for advice in a similar situation. I told my friend what I told my husband. You can't fix mental illness, no matter how much you love someone. You can be there for them. You can support them. You can love them. All of those things are very helpful. But no matter how much you love someone, you can't fix their brain. You can't fix somebody even if you love them more than anything in the whole world. That probably seems very disheartening to those who love someone who is mentally ill. Every time I snap out of my irrationality and general depressed mindset, I tell my husband how much I appreciate him just being there for me. This seems to help him cope with my lack of coping. If you are in a place where you love someone with mental illness and they seem unreachable, don't give up. Don't be discouraged because you can't help them more. You're probably helping them more than you know.

Coming Out of Depression

Let me tell you about when a prolonged period of depression ends. You want to sing, dance, laugh, and scream it from the rooftops. I'm me again! I feel normal! The world doesn't feel like it's going to end anymore! I'm okay! The thing is, a lot of the time people disregard your excessive cheerfulness when this happens. Either they don't notice it, or if they do they simply think it's odd. But really it's the best thing there is. You're you again. The real you. Not the hurting, irrational version of you that doubts everything in your life and hurts the people who love you to see. I've sort of had a nervous breakdown coming on the past few weeks but it really took over my life this week. I was horrible. I said things I didn't really mean because I was confused and mixed up inside and I cried more than an entire theater of people seeing Toy Story 3 for the first time, which was awful because I'm really not a crier. I hardly ever cry so crying excessively just makes me feel even worse and less like myself. I was depressed and felt guilty about everything and was really beating myself up. Sometimes I'd get randomly really angry too. Angry that my life had to happen this way and that I had to be this way. During my nervous breakdown I did a lot of things I regret. Especially the fact that my pain was hurting my fiancé too because he was the one who held me as I cried. And cried. And cried. Tonight after I finally snapped out of it (it was pretty bad earlier in the day) I was laughing and baking and generally being a dork like I usually am. When my fiancé was headed out the door to go home he paused and said, "You know, it's really nice to see you smile again." That hit me hard. I am a pretty smiley person. I smile a lot, laugh a lot, goof off a lot. A lot of people have had a hard time believing I have depression because of the way my personality is when I'm not depressed. When I'm depressed I'm basically a different person. It was really nice going back to Happy, Goofy, Easily Excitable Mallory after being Angry, Empty, Hates Everything, Self-Loathing Mallory. Even nicer was that someone else noticed and was as happy that I had come out of it as I was. I really hate having depression, but I have to admit, I wish there was a way to bottle the pure joy you feel when you snap out of a bout of depression and share it with everyone because it's the one of the best feelings in the world. Yes, being depressed really sucks. But it ends. And when it ends everything is not just okay again, but wonderful. I wish there was a way to keep that happy high all the time, but just as surely as the depression always comes back, the feeling of depression ending comes back too.

Relationships and Mental Illness

Hey everyone. Sorry I haven't written in a while. I got engaged and things have been kind of crazy since then with a whirlwind of school and wedding planning. Me. Engaged. I often doubted I would be able to find someone who loved me enough to marry me because of my mental illness history and continuing problems with it. I was pleasantly surprised (more like completely shocked, but it was still pleasant) how things unfolded with my fiancé. It all came out in bits and pieces over the first couple months we were dating. His reactions always surprised me. They were kind. Considerate. Understanding. Honestly, he's the most understanding person regarding depression I've ever met who hasn't actually lived with depression. Well, he's sort of lived with depression now. He's always there and supportive when I'm feeling empty, unmotivated, and on the verge of giving up because everything seems hopeless. Before I met him, I honestly didn't think people like him existed. Sometimes I'm still baffled that he actually does and that he wants me, broken as I am. Broken but healing. Sometimes it's slow going but I still always try. Relationships can be really hard when you have depression. The other person might not understand and that could lead to problems. You might feel like a total burden, which could lead to problems. Like any relationship, it takes work. It might just take a little more because you're working on keeping yourself healthy at the same time. That doesn't mean it's impossible, that you're unlovable, or that you don't deserve to be loved. You really just need to find the right person and keep fighting. I know that probably isn't super helpful advice. I just wanted you all to know that whether you believe it or not, it is possible to be loved when you have depression. I certainly wouldn't have believed me a few years ago. I've never been so happy to be proven wrong.