By The Grace of God

Sometimes no one gets it. No one understands how hard I have worked in the last twelve years of my life. Or how hard it is for me still to function. And if you've never suffered from depression or had a background in Psychology, you don't understand what goes through my head or how I think. So invalidating my feelings, even if you don't mean to or think you're helping, does nothing to help me and makes me even more reluctant to talk to you about what's going on in my head and about the things I've gone through in my past that I've never opened up about to anyone.

I've rarely ever truly opened up about the abuse I went through in my childhood and teen years, even to counselors and friends. Though I've shared pieces and snippets, there is a huge part of it I've kept to myself for a long time that I don't think I'll ever be able to share with anyone no matter how close I am to them. Physical, emotional, mental, and verbal abuse all became a huge snowball that rolled me over again and again as I was growing up. Being slapped, thrown against a wall, and held in a choke-hold against the wall by your father while he cocks his fist back and says "You're so damn lucky I have so much self control or you'd be through this wall right now" isn't how you want to remember your childhood, but that is a lot of what I remember about my younger years. Wishing you were dead instead of dealing with it...that's something I remember feeling too, all the time. Even as I got older and my abusive parent was no longer in the picture, I would have nightmares about it that plagued me into adulthood and sometimes still reoccur when I'm feeling particularly stressed.

And I have never opened up about my suicide attempt when I was 16. No one, save one person, knows about that and I have never talked about it openly with anyone. But I reached a point so low when I was that age that I couldn't imagine going on anymore and did try to take my life. That, coupled with my increasing problem of self-harm was what pushed me to finally get help because I realized I couldn't keep going the way I was and live. And by the grace of God, I somehow survived and made it through to adulthood, though nothing is perfect and I still struggle with all of it.

Despite all of this, I still want to reach out sometimes...but each time, I find some reason not to. I don't want to burden people with my problems because I'm the one with two degrees in Psychology and should be able to deal with this shit by now, but the truth of the matter is that I can't. I've pushed the stone so far up the hill without help that I fear it's going to run my ass over if I try to hold it up by myself anymore. But the people I would turn to don't understand it or if they do, I don't want them to feel like I'm asking them to take this from me on themselves because I'm not. I just want to be able to feel normal for once in my life. But what will it take for me to finally feel it?

Battlefield

It's easy to fall in love, but it's so hard to
Break somebody's heart
What seemed like a good idea has turned into a battlefield

Once lust has turned to dust and all that's left's held breath

Forgotten who we first met
What seemed like a good idea has turned into a battlefield

We both know it's coming, does illusion count for something -- we hide
The surface tension's gotta break, one drop is all it takes to flood out this lie

You and I we have to let each other go

We keep holding on but we both know
What seemed like a good idea has turned into a battlefield

Peace will come when one of us puts down the gun
Be strong for both of us, no please don't run, don't run
Eye to eye we face our fears unarmed on the battlefield

We seemed like a good idea

No blood

Will spill if we both get out now
Still it's hard to put the fire out
What seemed like a good idea has turned into a battlefield

Feelings are shifting like the tide, and I think too much about the future

What seemed like a good idea has turned into a battlefield

We both know it's coming, does illusion count for something -- we hide
The surface tension's gotta break, one drop is all it takes to flood out this lie

You and I we have to let each other go

We keep holding on but we both know
What seemed like a good idea has turned into a battlefield

Peace will come when one of us puts down the gun
Be strong for both of us, no please don't run, don't run
Eye to eye we face our fears unarmed on the battlefield

 
We seemed like a good idea

We seemed like a good idea

We seemed like a good idea

We seemed like a good idea

To Live

"To live would be an awfully big adventure." - Hook

The death of Robin Williams has shaken me to the core of my being. To see someone I grew up watching in movies like Aladdin, Flubber, Mrs. Doubtfire, Fern Gully, and so many more succumb to something I have struggled with for ten years brings it home to me. 

Depression is a bitch. It can sneak into your life and betray you at any given moment. You can fight it back and push it to the edges of oblivion, masking it with smiles and laughter, but if you don't seek help or find a way to treat it, the darkness will creep back in and make you feel like you have nothing. And that loneliness is what often pushes those who hide it to the brink of drastic measures, such as suicide. To put it into perspective, I use this analogy to describe it to someone who has never experienced depression or doesn't understand how you can be alone in a room full of people: Think of yourself in a room full of people, but you are in a soundproof box. People can see you and certainly do see you all the time as they pass you by, but do they hear you? Even if you're screaming at the top of your lungs for help to get out, do they really know what you're saying or understand that you're asking for help? That is how depression makes you feel. It isolates you, like a deceitful little monster that lives in your mind, telling you that no one cares or that no one is going to listen to you anyway. And society's views on mental health and illness don't help either.

As a whole, society fears what they do not understand or what isn't "normal", which is why having a mental illness like depression carries such an unnecessary stigma. Unfortunately, it takes someone as famous as Robin Williams dying to bring light to the problems surrounding the mental health system and the views of society as a whole. How many other people have taken their lives in the last month alone because they had nowhere to turn or feared what people might think if they asked for help? How many more deaths can we prevent by being more compassionate and understanding of those who are struggling and need help? 

I have struggled with depression for ten years, since I was only fifteen. And the amount of pressure I have felt to hide my struggles is almost insurmountable at times. There are times when I want to break down and tell people that I just can't do anything today, but I force myself to wear a smile and do it anyway, no matter how much I just want to lay in my bed and sleep. I have hidden the fact that I self-harmed for many years from almost everyone and the fact that I considered taking my life on more than one occasion when I was a teenager. And while I have a better grip on my problems now than I did ten years ago, it doesn't mean that I don't still have days where I just want to give up. 

Depression is often times a life-long battle between a person and their monsters, which is why we need a better mental health system and a better view of those who are struggling with their inner demons. Not only for those with depression, but those who struggle with addiction, bi-polar disorder, and so many other problems. And when we start changing the attitudes of society and the path of care, then can we start to mend the hearts and souls of the broken.

Slipped Away

I miss you, miss you so bad
I don't forget you, oh it's so sad
I hope you can hear me, I remember it clearly

The day you slipped away

Was the day I found it won't be the same

A little more than two weeks ago, my Papaw passed away from this life and we laid him to rest. He suffered a stroke in March of 2013 before fighting hard for a year to continue to live and stay with us through many complications of his heart disease. Like any Marine, he soldiered through procedures, doctors' visits, nursing home stays, and horrible, inconsistent home health care with nurses that didn't show up and aids who were no help at all. He was denied benefits from the Veterans Association, which would have helped pay for a wheelchair ramp to our house and the modifications to the bathroom to help bathe him. Even though he served three tours of duty in Vietnam and one in Korea, it seemed like no one wanted to help my Papaw, even though he fought bravely for this country and served for twenty-two years before retiring from the Marine Corps. For a year, my family waited for help when no one would step up to the plate and fix it. But that is for another time and another place.

My Papaw may have had his faults in life, like all human beings do, but he quietly served others in ways that he never received or wanted recognition for. He brought food to people who needed it, helped fix houses, mowed lawns for elderly neighbors, and served on the Honor Guard for military funerals in the area, serving other military families in morning. His quiet service to others and his unwavering loyalty to the military he served and loved is what I remember and will always remember about him. Like the saying goes, the Marines are always the first ones in and the last ones out of any fight. My Papaw was the first one to offer help to others and the last one to leave when the job was done. I'll never forget Sunday barbeques at our house or how he would put out the rose bushes every year in front of our house. And I won't forget hearing him yell and curse at the hammer when he hit his finger while trying to work on something in the garage. My Papaw might have been a simple man, but he was never simple in the actions and service he did for others. I'll always miss him, like I miss my Grandma Sandy from the other side of my family, but I know he's there with me now and forever.