We All Have a Story. This is Mine.

We all fight battles that no one else knows about, and we all have a story to tell.  Some of us choose to keep our stories private, while others share them with the world in hopes that our struggles and our recovery will inspire someone else.

For me, I choose to share my stories with the world.  I know the power a story of hope and recovery can have.  For myself, the stories of others has played a significant role in my long journey with depression, anxiety, self-injury and suicide.  I wonder where I would be if I hadn't heard the stories of others.  But then again, I try not to think about it too much.

My story started when I was 13.  I had just moved to Florida, and almost instantly I felt my world falling apart.  On my first day of 8th grade, I was pushed down the stairs just because I was the new girl.  Throughout the year, I was bullied and harassed.  I went home every day just wishing I could end the pain.  I turned to self-injury to try and numb the pain.  I replaced my emotional pain with physical pain and scars.  I tried to escape the bullying, but it just never seemed to end.  Eventually, the year ended.  But the bullying never did.

I started high school hoping for a fresh start and an escape.  I chose to go to Gateway because the school was just opening, and I figured that there was less of a chance I'd be bullied.  Within a month of school starting, cliques had formed, and I somehow found my way right into the hands of the bullies.  When you're being called names are told that you should die, you begin to feel like there's something wrong with you rather than with the people around you.  I once again turned to self-injury, and by Thanksgiving, my entire arm was covered in cuts and scars.

Things continued this way all throughout high school, and when I was a junior, I reached my lowest of lows.  Up until that point, I felt that I had reached rock bottom so many times before.  I guess I never really knew what rock bottom was.

March 23, 2007 was the day I decided my life wasn't worth living.  That the pain I was dealing with was too much to handle.  It was day I attempted suicide.  If you've never sat in the back of a van on the way to the hospital and listened to your sister cry and scream while you thought "I don't want to die this way," then you have no room to judge the decisions that led to that moment.

As much as I try to forget that day and the days that followed, I've never been able to.  Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night crying because I have a nightmare where I re-live the entire thing.  Other times, I find myself wondering what life would be like for everyone if I had died.  The days and weeks that followed were the hardest and most trying days of my entire life.  It felt impossible to keep going when all I wanted to do was to give up.  It felt like I would never be able to smile or laugh again, and I forgot what it was like to be happy.

What I know now is that my best days are ahead, and that this is not the end of my story.  I know now that I'm not alone and that people need other people.  I know that I'm loved more than I'll ever know.  I know that hope exists and that hope is real.

I still suffer from depression and anxiety, even though I try to convince myself that I'm better.  Even on the worst of days, I remind myself of where I've been and where I am now.  My struggles, my pain and my rock bottoms have all led me to this moment.  Sitting here on my couch writing this blog for you.  Suddenly, it all seems to have a purpose.

No one else can play my part because only I know where I've been and where I want to go.  No one can be a better version of me than me.

No One Else Can Play Your Part

Yesterday, a husband and wife were found dead in their trailer in Fort Myers, Florida.  They were apparently the victims of a murder-suicide.  A call was made by the male stating that he and his wife "could no longer stand the pain and that they were leaving."  What led them to this point?  What dreams did they have that they never accomplished?  Who are they leaving behind?  What stories do they have that will never be shared?

I don't know this couple, but their deaths happened where I live.  They are unknown to me, and yet they both faced a struggle I know all too well.  It's a struggle that I faced for many years, and one that will follow me throughout my life.

On Monday, To Write Love on Her Arms launched their campaign, No One Else Can Play Your Part, for National Suicide Prevention Week.  The couple who died on Monday in Fort Myers represents thousands of others who die by suicide each year and the millions of others who suffer from depression.

We live in a world where we're told to play it off like everything's okay.  We're told to "fake it 'til you make it" and that if you try hard enough, everything will get better.  We're led to believe that depression and mental illness are something to be ashamed of.  We're constantly told that we shouldn't be unhappy because there's someone else out there who has it worse than you do.  But those are all lies.  Here's the truth: You matter.  Your story matters.  The pain you're feeling is real and it's validated by the things you've been through.  Your struggles are nothing to be ashamed of, and they're all part of your story.

The pain of your past is not an indication of what tomorrow looks like.  Your pain is only part of your story, but there's so much more to you than that.

This week, I'm joining thousands of people around the world to talk about depression, suicide and mental illness.  These issues are very real to me, and anyone who has read through my blog knows that.  If there's anything I've learned from my struggles and my journey, it's that I am important, and that no one else can play my part.

TWLOHA Matters. My Story Matters. I Matter.

Today, To Write Love on Her Arms (TWLOHA) turns eight.

I first learned about TWLOHA on Myspace.  I think the year was 2007.  I learned about TWLOHA at a time when I felt alone, lost, discouraged and hopeless.  My life was spiraling downward, and I didn’t see a way out. 

Enter TWLOHA.

From the moment I read the story that inspired the movement, I myself was moved.  TWLOHA gave me hope and inspired me to take my recovery seriously.  It wasn’t always easy, and there were times when I was moving backwards.  But I never gave up because I knew that recovery was possible.  I learned that people need people, and we need to share our stories.  The stories of hope and recovery were what got my through it all.  I don’t think I’d be here today without those stories.

Eight years after TWLOHA was founded, I still struggle.  I’m not 100% better, and I don’t think I’ll ever be.  But I’ve always known that.  I always knew that even when I was better, I would still struggle.  And that’s okay.  But now I know when to ask for help and when to lean on others.  I know now that I don’t have to go through it alone.

I’m so thankful for everything TWLOHA has done over the past eight years.  From concerts to blog posts to speaking engagements.  All of it has mattered.  Their story matters.  Their mission and vision matter.  And because all of that, I know I matter too.

I’ll leave you with an excerpt from TWLOHA’s vision statement:

“The vision is the possibility that your best days are ahead.  The vision is the possibility that we’re more loved than we’ll ever know.  The vision is hope, and hope is real.  You are not alone, and this is not the end of your story.”

To learn more about TWLOHA or how to get help, visit www.twloha.com

The Self-Injury Reality

I can't take ownership of this.  It's not mine.  But as someone who dealt with self-injury, depression, anxiety, and eating disorders throughout middle and high school, this hit home to me.  And I felt like I had to post it on my blog to share with everyone.

Forty-one percent (41%) of people believe that self-harm is selfish. Fifty-five percent (55%) believe that it is stupid. Forty-three percent (43%) know someone that has self-harmed. One in ten people have harmed by the age of sixteen.Self-harm does not make you suicidal. It does not make you emo. It is simply a way that many use to rid themselves of stress or pain or whatever it may be. Over 3 million people in the US have self-harmed or still do.Cutting is notjust a girl’s disorder. Anyone can do it. Males, females, and persons that don’t fit into the gender binary. And it is not just teens, either. Both Princess Diana and Johnny Depp have gone through it. The person who always seems happy could be victim to it. Anyone.

There are other forms of self-harm besides cutting or mutilation. There’s CSP; a disorder where you’ll pick at your skin, bite your skin, bite your nails, or pull out hair, usually when you’re bored or due to perfectionism. There’s also burning yourself, and other things that could cause injury such as hitting yourself or other objects.

Some people don’t realize they’re doing it. Some people don’t think it’s wrong. Some people become addicted. People don’t hide their cuts or marks hoping someone will find them unless they actuallywant help to get better. It’s often hidden because they’re afraid of someone seeing. People don’t show off their scars because they’re cool. They’re just there. And there’s no point in hiding them. Often people become proud of their scars because they know they’re past it.

An orange ribbon is used as a self-harm awareness symbol. Those suffering from it or have been through it or support it often wear one. To Write Love On Her Arms is amazing for what they do. They help people get past their self-harm or addictions or suicidal thoughts. Many people don’t support TWLOHA, but I think it’s an amazing cause.

You do not have to have gone through anything like this to support it. Sometimes all people want to know is that they’re not alone. Don’t judge someone based on the marks they have on their arms. You don’t know what they’ve been through. Rather, be proud of them for making through it. Life can be a bitch.

Six Word Memoirs

I was on the To Write Love on Her Arms street team website, and I stumbled across something amazing.  It's called the "Six Word Memoir."  You can learn more about them at www.smithmag.net/sixwords/

I decided to challenge myself to write a few (partly for my own benefit and partly to complete one of the orders on the street team website).  But honestly, it was mostly for myself.  I've only written three so far, and they're all about hope and pain (since that was the topic for TWHOHA).  They're not that great, but I'm happy with them, and I truly do feel that they are a memoir (in six words, of course).

Here they are:

1) My pain has made me stronger.

2) My suffering won't determine my future.

3) I have hope I will survive.

The Power of Words

To you, a sentence may just be a string of words put together with proper punctuation. But to me, they're more than that. They're influential. They're life changing. They're simply one of the most amazing and beautiful things on this planet. Yes, I am still talking about words.

Sometimes I don't think that people realize how powerful their words are, both in a good and a bad way. Being involved on campus, I see how what we say can influence things. In Senate, a 2-minute speech could change the way someone looks at a piece of legislation. But at the same time, the bashing and the trash talking of certain Senators can influence the way people view that Senator. Words can change you, for the best or the worst.

I'm not a negative person, so I really don't want to sit here and talk about how words can negatively affect a person. Rather, I want to focus on the positive power of words.

In early 2007, I found out about an organization called To Write Love On Her Arms. This non-profit taught me early on the power and influence of words. Go to their website and read the story, and regardless of whether or not you can relate, you will be moved. You will be inspired. You will learn that people need people, and that you are not alone. One simple story and one organization changed the way I look at my life. This may sound absolutely ridiculous, but To Write Love on Her Arms literally saved my life. I utilized the resources and re-read the story and the vision, and I came out alive. I learned that my story and my life matters; I learned that I matter. Jamie Tworkowski has a way with words, and when I read the things he writes everything around me doesn't even matter. In that moment, his words and his stories are all that matters. He is one of my "writing inspirations". That is, I desire to write like he does. His words are so powerful and they reach out to so many people. His words save lives, as crazy as that sounds.

Have you ever done the activity where you write your name on a piece of paper and pass it around the room and people write something positive about you? (You can also do it where they tape it to your back). This is honestly one of my favorite activities of all time, and I keep every single one that I do. I read them when I'm having a bad day, and the little things never fail to make me smile. They remind me that there are people out there who love me and who appreciate the things I do for them. I'm reminded that no matter what people have to say about me, that I am a great person and that I do really great things for others.

Today at our Senate retreat I was reminded that the things we say do in fact make some sort of impact on the students, and it's important to watch what we say (both in and out of Senate meetings). Students look up to us. That sounds corny, but there are so many students who wish they could be where we are but think that it's impossible. Take it from someone who interviewed 5 times, NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE IF YOU WANT IT ENOUGH. I spent 8 months trying to get into Senate, and I'm finally here. I'm living the one major goal I had for college. I'm beginning to realize that sometimes when we are in these positions of power, we tend not to watch what we say. As Senators, we tend to lose sight of why we're here: to serve the students.

I know I just rambled on and on about the power of words. I repeated myself and got really corny at times, and I apologize. It's just something that I feel really strongly about, and I really wanted to share it. Well, I have to get up for class in 6 hours....so goodnight <3

The 5am Discovery

Christinapalooza at Disney was great, and I could write a whole blog about it. And I will. But not right now. Now is not the time. If there's anything I've learned in my 20 years of life, it's that life is unexpected. No matter how much you think you know what's going to happen next, the truth is, you can never be certain. And my "two week happiness theory" never fails. (My "two week happiness theory" states that I can never be happy for more than 2 weeks before something goes wrong and takes that away from me). In times of struggle and sadness, I reflect and write. It's what I know best.

Wednesday night (12.22) was supposed to be incredible. And for the most part, it was. I went to Alico Arena with some of my Chi Omega sisters to watch the wish of Patrick "P.J." Chester, Jr. come true. He was hit by a drunk driver in 2007 and now suffers from seizures. He had to relearn almost everything. He was granted a wish by the Make-A-Wish Foundation (which happens to be Chi Omega's philanthropy), and his wish was to become a basketball star. And Wednesday night was the night that his wish would come true. To see P.J.'s face when he arrived to screaming fans at Alico Arena was the greatest feeling in the world. He is truly amazing, and it's a night that I know he'll remember for the rest of his life.

As I was sitting in Alico Arena during the game when I got an unexpected text: "Mom and I are taking grandma to the hospital so we won't be home for a while." The words hit me hard and fast, and I wasn't sure how to react. And I know for a fact that if I hadn't been sitting in a crowded arena surrounded by my sisters that I would have broken down. Earlier that day she had fallen down and wasn't able to get up for 2 hours. Now she was weak and dehydrated...but that was only a prelude to the underlying condition.

I'll be spending most of my Christmas in the hospital. Despite what my grandparents want to believe, the rest of us know the truth. My grandmother is dying. The doctors said she should have been dead a long time ago, and that all they can really do now is to keep trying as long as she wants them to. My grandmother doesn't want to die. She's afraid of the unknown. And my grandfather seems to be in denial. If he was given the option to pull the plug, he wouldn't do it.

For me, the holiday seasons are always full of reminders...both of the good and bad. And while this year is no different, it kind of is. I haven't been reflecting on this year, but rather the past 20 I've spent with my grandmother. I've been reminded of the things we've done together, and the things we never got the chance to do. My mom says she doesn't see her making it through the year; I don't know if I see her making it through next month. It makes these moments so important because I never know when it's all going to be taken away from me.

I was just reading a blog posted by Jamie Tworkowski, the founder of To Write Love on Her Arms, titled "For Empty Seats and Elephants in Rooms and Dreams that Feel Impossible." If you haven't read it, go to www.twloha.com and read it. His words hit home to me, and they're what I needed to hear on this not-so-merry Christmas Day.

John Mayer said it well in a tweet yesterday - "Sending a heartfelt Merry Christmas to those who feel loneliness this time of year. You're not alone. Hang in there."

I've come to the realization...

I cannot begin to explain how much I've enjoyed the past 4 days of my Thanksgiving Break, and I am saddened that it's about to come to an end. I haven't had this much free time or been this relaxed since August. I'm sad that this break is about to end, but only a week-and-a-half until I have an entire month off for Winter Break :)

I've used my free time to spend time with family, shop & buy new clothes (I haven't done that in about a year!), write, but most importantly, remember what is most important to me. Here are some of the most important things I've come to realize over break:

I've come to the realization that I'm way too involved on campus. I love all of the organizations that I'm involved with, and I love being busy. BUT, I don't have time for the things that matter most. I don't have time to give myself an hour a day to do what I want to do. I don't have the time to totally take care of myself - like cook a fresh meal or go to the gym or waterfront. I don't have time to sit down and write out my emotions. I don't have the time to sleep at night (most college students don't). And to be honest, this over involvement isn't doing much for me. I'd rather be great at something than be good at everything. I've known that I needed to drop a few things for awhile, but I was so worried about disappointing people that I didn't want to do it. But I've come to the realization that it's not about them, it's about me. I shouldn't cry myself to sleep every night because I'm overwhelmed, overworked, and under appreciated. I need to involve myself with the things that overwork me, but appreciate me. I need to involve myself with things that give me something in return, and that "something" does not need to be tangible. I need to involve myself with things that make me happy. I guess I've come to the realization that my happiness does in fact matter.

I've come to the realization that my story does matter. My 20th birthday is quickly approaching, and I'm starting to realize that I've been through A LOT for someone my age. And at the same time, I've also overcome a lot. Some people are afraid to tell their stories because it makes everything real, and to an extent, I definitely feel that way. But I also feel like my story can help a lot of people - whether it be by giving them hope or just giving them information so they can write an essay. I'm open about my life and what I've been through, and I'm starting to feel like I need to share my story with more people. Writing is a good way to do that, but so is speaking about it. Most importantly, it's about speaking out.

I've come to the realization that I am OBSESSED with To Write Love on Her Arms. If you haven't heard of it, TWLOHA is a "non-profit movement dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury, and suicide." I've struggled with all of these things so TWLOHA hits very close to home for me. I found this organization when I was at rock bottom back in early 2007, and I seriously don't know where I'd be without it. I utilized a lot of their resources, including the suicide hotline, and they literally saved my life. Their message is so inspiring, and it makes me want to do so much more. It makes me want to speak out and share my story. I know that sounds so lame, but people relate better to personal stories than anything else. When I was at rock bottom, I counted on TWLOHA as well as the stories of people I didn't know to give me hope. I spend at least an hour a day on this website, reading blogs and stories as well as creating my wish list of their merchandise. I seriously love this organization.

I've come to the realization that I am a terrible Little. My Big is amazing; I love her to death and she's such an incredible person. Coordinating the schedules of two busy people is tough, but I've come to the realization that maybe I don't try hard enough. More than anything, I want our Big/Little relationship to work. And it kills me that right now it's not. We never see each other, and if we do it's usually for 5 minutes. We never talk, and I don't feel close to her at all. And it's my own fault; I haven't opened up to her the way I've opened up to many of my other sisters. I've come to the realization that I'd give up everything to have a better relationship with my Big. I remember Big/Little clue week and revelation; I wanted her to be my Big so badly and when I saw her at the end of that tunnel, I was the happiest girl in the world. I want that feeling back again.

I've come to the realization that I have the most amazing friends in the entire world. They are my world. They are there for me when I feel like giving up. They are there congratulating me after I've accomplished something. They are there when I just want to hang out and laugh. If I'm ever alone and just want to be around someone, my friends are there. I don't deserve to have such incredible people in my life, but I'm so thankful to have them around. I love them all so much, and I seriously don't know what I would do without them.

I've come to the realization that I love Chi Omega and need to make more time for it.

I've come to the realization that all of the stress has taken a huge toll on me.

I've come to the realization that I need to be a better friend. They deserve better than what I give them.

I've come to the realization that I need to make time to take care of myself.

I've come to the realization that writing is the most relaxing thing for me, and I need to make time to do it every single day...