Ok not to be Ok.

A long time ago I had a dear friend tell me that I could help people with all the sh*t I had been through. I laughed her off at the time, but now–looking back, some days I feel like all the sh*t I went through might need to be put to good use, so something good actually comes out of it.

I’ve been working the last couple years on getting my mental health under control and part of that is now tackling topics I didn’t want to deal with and couldn’t deal with a long time ago.

We bought our first house and moved in last month. So we’ve been unpacking some stuff. Today I was unpacking a box that had my mom’s scrapbook of my little sister’s life–today was an exhausting day in itself, but this was kind of the cherry on top.

The last few months I’ve been using “I am 30… do it/change it/etc…” to get myself to start making the changes I need to. Like, my life could be halfway or a third of the way (or somewhere in between) over and I am finding areas where I have pain or I am not happy with something. I don’t want to live like that any more. So, I’ve been working on making changes.

After my sister passed, I push a lot of stuff down and did a lot of faking because people don’t know how to handle grief. It’s ugly and messy and awkward. After one too many comments, I stuffed it all down for a while–people who hurt me, lied to me, etc. I tried my best to ignore it and I couldn’t bring myself to tell them how it felt or what it sounded like. I had lost my two best friends–there’s no manual on how to deal with that.

May be an image of 2 people and text that says 'Don t be afraid of losing people. Be afraid of losing yoursel By trying to please everyone.'

But–I am 30. Not thirty, flirty, and thriving. But, I am 30, tired, and done faking. I’ve told myself this a lot, but Demi Lovato’s song has basically been my theme song since it came out it’s Ok not to be Ok. My mental health is improving. I have more good days than bad now. But, it’s 100% okay to not be okay–whether it’s with something someone said or did. It’s okay to just be tired and unable to do anything.

As I am finally realizing that being me is best for me and my family, I am letting go of a lot of things and trying to be the big kid now and address other things that kind of “haunt me”. It’s not fun–whoever said adulting was–nope. lol.

The irony of this was I originally found a post saying to write a book about something that pisses you off, well, I figured I’d write one about all the things that happen after an accident that people shouldn’t do. But, I actually stopped halfway through this post and sent a few messages.

One to a friend who meant good, but I didn’t understand it at the time.

One to a friend who told me “an accident is called an accident for a reason because that’s what it was–an accident”. Reminding me, many times, that I didn’t want them to die. I didn’t purposefully cause it. But, those words have always stuck with me–14 years later and those words help push me through the grief. Yes, 14 years later, you still grieve–and sometimes it hurts just as bad as that day.

And the last one… the one that probably took everything in my soul to do. One that I’ve wanted to send for a really long time and finally did. I messaged my friend’s mom. When my friend passed, his friends blamed me. I remember MySpace (yeah–those days) being plastered with comments about how horrible of a person I was. Rumors of me being on drugs, speeding, or alcohol. Anything that put guilt on me. I was the driver. At the time, I figured anyone who could blame me didn’t know me or love me. I’ve grown to understand why people needed to do this though–when something bad happens, we try our best to make sense. Sometimes that’s putting the blame on someone–during that time, it was me. But, my friend’s mom–the night of the accident, she hugged me, never blamed me, and was more forgiving towards me that I could be myself. Unfortunately, because his friends were not, at 16 years old, I walked out of his funeral. I remember going to the movie theater with a friend and her family and just crying in the darkness.

It’s funny cause I started this thinking I’ll do what that post said and write a chapter at a time–but, it’s more like, I’ll heal one post at a time.

Yeah–30 years old, 14 years later–still healing. It never stops, my friends. Always healing, always changing, always learning, always growing. We never stop.

It’s time to end the stigma associate with mental health…

Four months ago I set out to make one of my #futuregoals come true. Can’t make your dreams/plans come true if you don’t put in the work, right?

Well, it ended up being counter-productive and until this last week when talking with my sisters and the following conversation took place…

“…Sometimes it’s difficult to encounter my 18-year-old self without groaning.”

“We ALL feel the same way about our 18-year-old selves; it’s why I burned all of my journals from that time. “

This seems to have really hit home. Four months ago I had this drive, this passion to push myself to make something happen–I wanted to make something positive come from this insanity that has been playing like a game of pinball for more than 15 years. But, I pushed myself too hard and I burnt myself out.

8 pages, 3097 words about my struggles with depression since I was 13 years old… I am not who that girl was. I don’t like who that girl was. And I am starting to understand why some people hiring people to write their biographies. Trying to write a story about how your struggles began and what you went through–I give the motivational speakers props…

I wear my heart on my sleeves and putting to paper everything that I haven’t fully faced since I was 13…

I starting seeing a therapist last month–being on anxiety meds after getting rear-ended and anti-depressants since last year… my doc thought it would be a good idea.

My therapist said something to be that really stuck–cause no one else has every said this to me…

And to be honest, I usually have people tell me this and I brush it off. “Yeah, I’ve been through stuff, but it could’ve been worse.”

My counselor told me that doing this kind of takes away from the story. So, now I pass it to you—it’s okay to admit that stuff in life has sucked—that it hurt—that you’ve been through a lot.

I am not sure if trying to write that book was a good idea–or if it’s just too raw still. Maybe I’ll never finish it. I honestly don’t know.

I do know that I am here for those who need someone to talk to about depression, anxiety, symptoms–a listening ear. If you need help finding help, I am 100% here for you.

I am not 100% back to me. But I am getting there. I have more good day than bad.

There is nothing to be ashamed of. It can happen to the best of us.

I had just gotten a promotion, pregnant with my 4th baby, married to an amazing man–living a good life–when I hit rock bottom since I was 13 years old. It can happen to any of us. Ask for help. You have more people in your corner than you realize.