may is mental health awareness month, and even though i
actually have ultimate postings stashed in my drafts, it is incredibly important to me to write this post. this will probably go unnoticed and maybe no one will read this, but for the one person who does and who might need it, i just need you to know that you’re not alone, and that there is something so awesome beyond the dark. i wish someone had said this to me when i was fourteen years old:
“strength lies not in forging ahead alone, but in allowing others to walk beside you.”—
last summer i had the chance to go out to los angeles and reconnect with some dear old friends. at my request, we journeyed out to silver lake and saw the
“s” painting on the solutions audio wall. i stood there for a long time, because that too felt like reconnecting with an old friend. ten years ago, on october 21, elliott smith killed himself. as i sat back and thought about it, i realized that it’s been over ten years for me, too. i guess i hadn’t noticed. i was in the midst of yet another graduate school meltdown hell week, and i should have been working my ass off, but i lost it when i remembered. i sat in bed for two days, listening to “waltz #2” and “i don’t think i’m ever gonna figure it out” and “angeles” and crying every so often.
i think back on the first time i went out here in madison to eat with new friends, to a new restaurant, to a place where i had never had the chance to go online and read the menu so i could make sure i knew all the words and i wouldn’t get nervous speaking out loud in front of other people, let alone eating in front of other people. i think back to that afternoon i skipped class to sit in the courtyard on my phone, alternating between crying and screaming into my phone, pleading with janice to help me, over 2000 miles from home. or the time i spent the better part of an hour walking up and down the stairs to someone’s apartment, debating the entire time about whether i would talk to people at the party or just find a way to stand in the corner for ten minutes before finding an excuse to leave, only to ultimately walk home alone in the rain, having never made it in the door, my fears getting the better of me again. i think back on driving my car twenty, thirty minutes south of champaign that april night. i didn’t know where i was going, i just picked a road going through a cornfield and i followed it. there were no streetlights. i didn’t have my lights on. i hoped for the worst, because i wasn’t sure anything could feel as hopeless or as empty as i felt then.
i have struggled mightily with anxiety and depression since middle school. sometimes it is crippling. i am terrified in crowds. i don’t do well with meeting new people. every time i think about talking to someone, a voice in my head tells me that that person doesn’t want to talk to me, that i’m going to come across as awkward, or weird, or stupid. it is extraordinarily difficult for me to open up to people, to let my guard down and let someone in. being in class is something like a constant panic attack. i sweat profusely and practice the same six word sentence in my head over and over and over, because i know i’m supposed to participate in class, but my heart is beating so loudly and what if everyone thinks i’m the dumbest fuck ever, so i just don’t. i limit my interactions with people because i’m afraid of situations and conversations that i haven’t practiced for. i replay interactions in my head for weeks and occasionally months at a time — why did i say that? i sounded like a fucking idiot, and the words ringing in my head remind me of that, constantly. i don’t want to keep to myself all the time — i want to talk to people, to learn about them, to make more friends. but it’s fucking terrifying, and i just don’t know how to. i’ve worked really hard to pass it off as indifference.
i feel robbed sometimes. i have made some incredible memories while getting the chance to meet even more incredible people. i should feel like i have something to bring to the table, something cool to bring up in a conversation, something i can add to the world. i should feel more well-adjusted than i do. but depression and anxiety reduce me to a stuttering, whimpering, unstable, emotional, nervous mess. it leaves me with nothing but a lump in my throat and sweaty palms and an insurmountable fear. it leaves me in the fetal position in my bed, buried underneath blankets, unable to get out of bed to face anyone or anything.
the last three or four years of my life have been tumultuous, as i’m sure anybody who knows me has gotten quite tired of hearing. i was going through a lot of big changes in my life, and on top of that i was living at home, most of my friends had moved away, and i spent all my time alone with nothing to keep me company but the constant *pings* on my blackberry telling me i had been rejected for yet another job, and all the self-pity that came along with them. it became pavlovian — i was terrified whenever my phone went off. i became deeply, deeply depressed. with nothing to focus my energy on and no one to talk to, my anxiety and depression grew even worse. it changed my demeanor, the way i saw myself, and the way other people saw me. i acted differently. my feelings of self-worth based on my employability spilled over into my general feeling of self-worth. i was pessimistic and self-loathing, and i know i was a constant source of bad energy for everyone around me. i lost a lot of friends during that time. i was extremely isolated — part of it was self-imposed, and part of it was the people in my life not knowing what the fuck to do with me, or not wanting any part of what was happening.
the isolation forced me to think about who i was, who i had become, and who i wanted to be. that last part was most important. i would like to think that i’ve changed a lot in the past few years. i’m certainly not the same person i was in high school, or even college. looking back, i have not always been kind. i have not always been understanding. at times, i have even been cruel. i have said the wrong thing more often than i’ve said the right thing my entire life. i have the uncanny ability, actually, to say the wrong thing. even when i don’t mean to, i end up doing or saying things that hurt others, that make them sad or angry or feel less than good about themselves. it wasn’t enough that i felt shitty about myself, i had to make others feel that way too. how could i do that? how could i continue being that person when it was the immense and completely altruistic compassion and kindness of others that saved me?
i am the person i am today because of the people who lifted me up when i needed it the most and probably deserved it the least. i am still here because of the biggest and smallest gestures. i stopped hanging out with people who weren’t willing to be there when things got tough. i stopped pining after people who didn’t think i was good enough for them. i stopped keeping around the people who brought out the worst in me, and i surrounded myself with people who had high standards for me, believed that i could achieve them, weren’t afraid to push me towards them, and wanted to lift me up. i am filled with hope because of the people who inspire me to continue giving and to continue loving. i’m so grateful that i don’t do this alone. for me, my family — if you’re my friend or a part of my ultimate family, i consider you my
family family — means that i will never walk alone.
i could go on and on listing the people who have saved my life more than they will ever know, but that could take a while, and this post is already spinning a bit out of control as it is. all i can say is that i thank you for it. i am strong because you walked through hell with me, and i am brave because of your love.
i have learned something incredible about the world — that amidst all the heartbreak and sadness and just straight up shit, there is an incredible, boundless love that exists. we have this extraordinary, powerful capacity to love others, and to make each other feel a little less alone in the world. i believe we were put on the earth to give. i think sometimes we forget that we all have the amazing gift of being able to make each other smile, to make each other laugh, and feel happy. i just graduated from graduate school, and people keep asking me what i’m doing or what i want to do now. the truth is that i don’t really know. that is, i don’t know what the job title is, but i have known since i heard this song in high school what i want to dedicate my life to: find deflated hearts and pump them up!
i wish that mental illness and seeking help for mental illness wasn’t so stigmatized. i’ve called the u of i counseling center’s emergency number more than once. i saw a therapist two times a week for six years (freshman year of high school through my sophomore year of college). i cannot count the number of times i have called her, in tears, and forced her to talk me off the ledge at all times of the day and night. through multiple phone changes, my doctor’s number is still in my contacts, just in case. i even asked for her e-mail address when i studied abroad in china, because i was wary of being an ocean away. i used to be embarrassed about it. i would turn down invitations to hang out with people or do things and people would ask where i was going, basketball season was over so obviously i didn’t have practice… right? i told everyone i had an orthodontist appointment. people thought my teeth were really fucked up.
but i know now that asking for help doesn’t make me weak. saying it out loud and not being afraid of the way it sounds — “anxiety. depression.” — can be liberating sometimes. i can finally look myself in the mirror these days, but it’s certainly not because i’ve been “cured”. failure, depression, anger, bitterness, loneliness, anxiety, insecurity, and heartbreak find ways to crush me on a daily basis. but every day that i get up and face the world, i count it as a victory. every time i get up after i’ve fallen, every time i gather my bearings and keep walking with my head up, i emerge a stronger person, and i know that i am better for it. i know now that this continual process of destruction and renewal and growth is the only thing that really makes me feel real, and the only thing that really makes me feel whole. like i said, i’m not cured and i’m not a new person, nor do i know the way to “become” either. but what makes me stronger and better than i was six years ago is that i understand now that
there is something better. i know now that tomorrow brings with it a whole new set of opportunities to do better and to try again and to give and to be happy and laugh, and i know that
people need other people.i also know that not everyone feels like they have a support system. there are people who feel like they don’t matter and they won’t be missed, that they aren’t important and they aren’t loved. there are people who feel alone and voiceless, powerless or disenfranchised. there are people who feel trapped, or lost, or not good enough. there are people who struggle just to get through the day, and there are people who get up every day to
fight for their lives. all of that means something big to me, and i know i can do better. i know that as long as i’m alive, i’ll fight my whole lifetime, for me and for you.
to anyone struggling, you are not alone. everyone hurts, heals, and feels differently, but that doesn’t mean that no one in the world can help you, or that no one cares about you. please don’t feel like you can’t reach out for help. there are resources out there for you, and i’m here, too. the world can be a really wonderful place, and you have so much to contribute to it. there are adventures to be had, new territories to explore, stories to be written, new things to try, new foods to taste, memories to be made, and laughs to be felt, deep in your heart and deep in your belly. one foot in front of the other, out of the darkness.
for i have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night
