The way I see things is of course, different from anyone else. Sometimes it scares me, sometimes I love it too much. There isn't much balance to the unending emotion and passion I experience. Sometimes its flatlined, without a feeling to be felt. The numbness overcomes me, keeping me slow and dull. On the contrary, others times I feel too much. I am overcome with great passion bursting from the seams. I can be so happy I cry, likewise when I'm perpetually down. If I am ever in the middle, I do not notice it, nor is it easy for me to identify. Since I was a very long girl, I can remember some of my first obsessions. I would love things so much, I had to express it to everyone. Lets take movies for example. I would love a movie so much I would want to live in the era. I wanted to live inside of the movie, and somehow I thought this was achievable. That I could somehow live like my favorite story characters. The stories would overtake my mind, flooding in like oil into the sea. It contaminated everything. I was always frustrated that I couldn't get enough of the non existent world in which I obsessed over. I never understood why I would love something so much more that the others around me. I thought that I was just extra passionate. Now I know that all of those obsessions, all of those strong overbearing emotions were my OCD. Its extremely frustrating at times. I will get obsessed with a TV show or movie, and then be told not to watch it anymore. Its like telling a child that they are not allowed to play with their favorite toy. Its seems like a punishment. Its painful, when your mind wants so much of something, and you have to deny yourself of that very thing. Like an infant being denied comfort, I have to wait for the obsession to pass, not knowing if I will ever be able to introduce my interest back into my life. Being of the human race, we all go through phases in our lives. This is where its hard for me to tell if its just a phase, or if I actually like something. To have others such as my family tell me its just a phase, angers me. Who's to know if it is or not. Unfortunately it usually is, even though at the time I am so consumed by this one thing. It feels real. Like you would swear someone in your life is a human being, and you would put money on it. You would put money on your belief that, the person in your life is indeed a living, breathing human being. And then all of the sudden they disappear. You could have sworn they were real. Its hard to know whats real in my mind. How much is too much, being the constant question.
How far should I go? How far is safe enough? Do I have to live my life constantly question my interests? To see them as real or fake. I'm afraid that this is a burden that will never leave me. I will always have to steer clear of the things that I enjoy, and that seem to be consuming too much of my life. Weighing out whats worth it, and whats not. Staying in the the reality of the world is not something that people like to do, but for me it is one of the most important things to do. Stay grounded, and keep reality within reach.
Sooner or later, we all come into the new. It sneaks up on us, branding us without choice, like animals. It begins to own us, and unfortunately some of us give up and accept our mark. The mark that society naturally curses us with. What we often don't come to realize is, we must de-brand ourselves; take out the slivers that sneak their way into the inner most being of our souls. If we don't, we are owned. We are owned by what society says we must be. Owned by the same old pattern of our cultures writings, as if they were written in stone; burnt directly into our skin. How do we escape these titles? How do you erase a scar? How do you un-write what has already been written? The answer to these questions? Write over them. The scars will always be there. You will always be put into a category. You will always feel the pain that comes with the hand you were dealt. We cannot change these things. We can not rewrite society. All we can do is, put our own stamp on what we know to be true. Like covering up a tattoo with another tattoo, the old markings leave lines underneath, but the new tattoo covers up enough for us to finally see what we truly are. What words we write for ourselves. I have a mental illness, this will never be erased from my story line. I will always be judged as a result. I will always have the scars that came from the darkest of my days. People will never fully understand. There will always be a blanket of stigma surrounding my existence.
Luckily, I can write over what is already there. I have the choice to go in another direction. I have a choice of what I need to do for myself. I can define my illness as something besides an illness. I can take out the hurtful words. I can take my story line, and veer off into another line. The whole thing is a tree. It starts at the roots, and follows into the solidity of the trunk. There are branches everywhere, go every way I can possibly imagine. I get to choose what each branch means. I get to carve into the wood. I can carve whatever I want into the branches of my life. The tree will keep growing tall, and out. Creating new branches on top of the others. Though some of these branches may have scars, the new ones are up to me. I have a choice. Will I stay under the dark in the roots, or will I travel upward, and grow higher and higher. Will I be the maker of my own fate? Whatever I want to be, now that my friends, is up to me.
It has been a year and five months since I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder, and also since I started my wellness journey. I look back at pictures of myself when I was in the eye of the storm. I see how thin I got from medications, nausea, and not eating. I see the bags under my eyes from nights of hell, dreams of demons, and endless days in the psych ward. I see the girl who didn't even know what was coming, and the woman I am now wants to reach into those photos and comfort her, and warn her of what was to come. When one goes through such trauma, such suffering, one is bound to turn into someone else. I no longer feel like the girl in those photos. I have finally come into something new. Something with a positive and healthy future. I am starting to understand what I've gone through, and I am learning that I can, and have made it a positive thing. While we're hurting, we're growing, and we don't even know it. I didn't feel like I was growing at the time. I thought I was being destroyed, slowly withering away into the abyss of forgotten and tortured souls. And to tell the truth, I was. There was so much darkness, but somehow I came out onto the horizon and into the light. Some days I even thank God for my disease. It has grounded me, it has helped me come into a whole new world that I may not have gotten to experience, had life not brought such depths. I have learned how important it is to recognize the hardship of others. How important it is to help others. I can now better help those in need. I can even say that I completely understand some of them, since this disability is so common. I still have a ways to go. I will always be working on myself. I will always have this "mental difference". There are days that I'm not understood. There are days that I do not understand myself. Unfortunately, we cannot always spend our time in the light. There are times that we must also spend in the dark. But it is the light that I live for. It is the light that I thank God for. And it is the dark that I eventually come to appreciate. I will never stop learning on this journey. I will never stop growing, and I will never stop moving on. As long as I am moving forward, I know that life will provide me with what I need. I know that I have a future ahead, and whatever that may bring, who knows? That's the beauty of it, the beauty of suffering, the beauty of thriving, the beauty of all man kind. And so we go...
Recently, I have been taking a free class through NAMI (National Alliance for Mental Illness), and it is called Peer to Peer. So far I have been through two classes, and that has all I have needed to decide that I want to be an advocate and a public speaker for mental illness. I love the atmosphere so much, it empowers me to be around people my age, with brain illnesses just like mine, who have been through similar experiences. No one will ever know the power and feeling of ease that I felt tonight. I wish that they could. Because to explain something like that, is nearly impossible. Still, I try to explain these things for the benefit of others. I used to think that I had no future, nothing bright to look to. I suppose that's why I am so infatuated by the moon. Because it is bright, it is filled with wonder and possibility, and it is in the sky every night without fail. Something that I can always look to, no matter how dark my world may get. However, I am starting to find my own light. Something that gives me purpose, something that gives me something to look forward to. I used to think I was given this disease out of spite. But now I know, I was given this condition because God knew that I would recover, that I would see everything I've been through in the past year, and see it as an opportunity. This is my time to learn as much as I can learn. This is my time to prepare to educate the minds of others. Minds both young and old. The importance of talking about this issue is dire. And God knew that I could come through and educate as many minds as possible. I signed up tonight to speak at both schools, and large groups of adults. And one day I will be teaching the same class I am taking now. My whole life I have known that I have wanted to save lives, and telling my story, that is how I will save lives. I will raise and spread awareness, and help end the ongoing stigma. God knew; he knew that I was strong enough to live this life, and I feel so blessed that he chose me. I feel so blessed to be living this life.
As time goes along, and as I continue to share my journey, one story at a time, I continue to get positive responses from friends, family, and then some people that I barely even know. I have even been thanked numerous times for being so open about my struggle. I wanted that encouragement and acknowledgment from people on the outside of it all. I wanted the recognition. I didn't get that at first, it has taken me a long time to get people to pay attention, and to respond. I can not say how wonderful it is to get a thank you from some random person, just for speaking up about something that needs to be spoken more often about. But I didn't just do this for me. I did it for the people who can't or do not want to speak up about their illness's. I feel it is my responsibility to educate as many people as possible, and to dissolve the stigma, one person at a time. This is my promise. I will never stop speaking up about mental illness. I will never stop baring my scars to the world, I will never feel ashamed for sharing too much. There will never be a time when I will not emotionally be there for the ones who suffer as I do, because I know the importance of awareness. Knowledge is power. We all have something to give to this world, mine is my promise. I promise to never stop speaking up, because I care about every single person on this planet with an illness. It doesn't matter if I don''t "know them" in person, because I know them in my heart. I know what they go through on a daily basis, how hard they work just to stay alive, or even just to function. But as always I must say, this life will not always be so hard. There will be the good years, there will be the bad years. That's the reality. But I will do my part, I feel an obligation to continue telling stories, explaining what it feels like, because those of you struggling with a mental illness, you are my brothers, and you are my sisters. We will prevail. We will continue to educate the ones who do not know. We will live lives worth living. We are beautiful, we are not an illness, we are human beings. Never stop telling your story, and never identify yourself as an illness. Keep talking. You never know who's life you will touch.
The carousel of life just keeps on spinning, and I find myself here at this moment, not enthused, and used to the feeling of instability. Used to the mood swings, used to feeling one way one second, and completely the opposite the next. This is me. The more I go on with it, the more I accept it. What matters in the end is not how many mood swings I had, not what they were about, but how I handled them, and how I coped. Did I address them with grace and maturity? Did I try my very best? That's what truly matters. You wont look back at your life and only think about the circumstances of your life, but what kind of a person you were when you were going through them. How did I treat others? How did I treat myself? What did I do with my time despite the pain and suffering? What did I fill my days with? What kind of people did I spend my time with? Who's life did I touch? Who did I help? Who did I forgive? Who did I love? What did I do to be the best possible version of myself? Sure I was given this "disease". I was given these circumstances, but instead of sitting here feeling sorry for myself, how am I going to make my situation the best that it can be? How will I most benefit from this? I want to be remembered by my family as strong, but graceful. I want stories to be told not just of tribulations, but how I endured my tribulations. What kind if person was I? How I helped others who I was experiencing life with. How you could always count on me as a human being, but also having the strength and boundaries to still have respect for myself. I want to be remembered fondly. The one who didn't just exist, but the one who lived! Who lived despite her circumstances. Who lived despite her hardship. Who lived solely for the purpose of living for the beauty of life. The one who lived, because she wanted to. And so she did.
This past week, I have gone up and down with the craving that I just can't seem to yet quench. The craving for love. I crave for someone to hold me tight, to have my back no matter what, and to think I'm beautiful even when I'm in my sweatpants. I want a pure love. As pure as love can be. However that goes... Who knows.. Sometimes I feel bad for wanting to be loved like this. I almost feel like, I shouldn't be feeling that way, because I have a "disability". But then as I go back and read that sentence, I get mad at myself all over again, and I can only think then how wrong I really am. I kid myself into thinking that no one will ever love me, just for me, and not let the underline details get in the way. I won't lie, I get scared that there is no such person out there. And then I think, all of the self work that I have done in finding myself might be enough if no one were to fall in love with me. But there I go again! My emotional mind brings me down to thinking that people with disabilities can't be loved. And oh how false that is! Why wouldn't I give myself the satisfaction of taking a chance on someone? Why would I go and think that someone won't ever love me because I have Bipolar Disorder, OCD, and Panic Disorder? There are people with no legs or arms that find love! There are so many types of people who do love, and that are loved in return. So why doubt myself so much? It has almost been a year since I started this intense road of self discovery and growth. The strides that I have taken are nothing short of amazing! If you saw my soul a year ago, and you looked at it now, you wouldn't recognize it! I have never known myself so well in my entire life. I have never been this clear in knowing what I want in life. And to personally look back and see the things that I went through, the things that I have striven through, makes me realize how worthy of love I really am. If I can live through a year like this past one, I can live through anything! And I truly believe that. Even if I do question myself from time to time. But hey, look at that! I question myself, on love, on life, and on so many others things. If that doesn't make me normal than I don't know what will. I am just like everyone else. And just like everyone else, I will find love. He is out there somewhere. Wherever that is, I have no flipping clue. But I guess that's the beauty of it. If I have enough patience, it will eventually happen, and when it does, it will have been worth the wait. I am worthy of life. I am worthy of love. And in my eyes, I am nothing short of a miracle. I have a different ability, not a disability. And who I am as a human being, is one million times more than any disability in the world. Let that be a lesson to all of you girls out there with some sort of insecurity. You are worthy of love. You just wait and see. Love is coming for you. And I suppose that in the meantime, lets not worry. Lets date ourselves. Lets find out who we truly are. Lets get to know us and what we as women are truly capable of. One day we will catch the eye of someone, and we will be better for knowing ourselves when it does happen. To know your worth, solely for the benefit of you is the most beauty that I can think of. Knowing yourself. Now that is true love.
