Hello World.
Writing had always been a part of my life. I have fond memories of writing page after page in many notebooks. Stories that flowed from brain to paper involving friendship, pirates, ghostly lore, and family. But through my adolescent years, the intense desire to write faded rapidly, as life changed; and my self-esteem dwindled to depressing lows.
I had a good childhood, from the outset. I went to a private Catholic School from elementary to middle school. Got a decent education at a public high school and a two-year associate’s degree from a community college. But mixed throughout was the incessantly relentless bullies throughout my school life. While bullies were considered common, it severely chipped away at my positive outlook on life. Creating a dark cloud that stayed with me for many years.
There were moments of clarity and happiness, of course. But the depressive and anxious thoughts that perpetuated my mind eventually became too much to bear this year. It was mixed with unhealthy coping mechanisms for my undiagnosed ADHD, whether with alcohol, cannabis, or instant-gratification shopping addictions. And not fully understanding my brain and the traumatic experiences of my childhood left a gaping wound that was never able to be healed.
I explored life in my 20’s the best I could. I stuck with menial jobs from fast food to warehousing to cleaning services; had a girlfriend and a boyfriend; spent weeknights with friends in Philly; ran eight marathons and countless half-marathons; moved out of my family’s home; and secured a house with my fiancé. But through it all, my brain kept getting in the way with its anxious and depressive thoughts; something that I did not understand how to control.
Until I walked into the Glens Falls Hospital in September after a suicide attempt. There must have been a half dozen of those in my short life. But as I was standing on the roof of the Queensbury Hotel, alone and looking down at the cold pavement, I heard a voice. Letting me know that it was ok to ask for help; something that scared me for years.
I thought asking for help was a sign of weakness. I tried to fix all my problems the best I could. But we don’t always have the answers, especially when we don’t know what to ask for. And I have certainly learned a lot.
The ten-day hospital visit allowed me to begin a crash course in psychology. The benefits of different styles of relationship boundaries, from porous to rigid, it essential for keeping my sense of self, identity, and anxiety in a balance. Learning meditation and appreciating stillness and silence taught me how to calm my stress response and distance myself from reactions and emotions. Regaining the ability to write allowed my nearly constant stream of anxious and depressive thoughts to get out of my brain and onto paper, something that is very therapeutic and helpful when making decisions.
It was not all sunshine and positivity in the hospital, though. The mental health crisis center was a scary experience, at times. Being cooped up in a small room, with only a bed and barely any privacy was not exactly fun. But the intense boredom and lack of freedom allowed my mind to learn how to heal. And learn how to become used to sobriety and not using substances to numb the anxious and depressive thoughts.
I also was given anti-anxiety medication, fluoxetine, for the first time. Something that terrified me for years, mostly from the reported bad experiences from folks that tried them. But for myself, it was a breath of fresh air. Mixed with sobriety, meditation, and the crash course in psychology, I am finally on the journey to heal my past trauma and unhealthy coping skills.
This journey has allowed me to create habits that have improved my cognitive functions and ability to sustain conversations. It has brought back my love of reading and writing; to the absolute joy from my fiancé, Michael.
We have been together for nearly ten years. Our first date was in September of 2015 in NYC. He lived in upstate NY, in a lovely town called Glens Falls. I was living with my parents in Cinnaminson, NJ at the time. It was the first time we met each other in person after communicating online; so, we were both nervous. But Michael gave the loveliest gift from the, now defunct, NYC Toys-R-Us: a tiger stuffed animal.
My brain did not make the connection back then, but my whole life had been filled with images of tigers. My grandfather had a fascination with them, which perpetrated throughout his home in the form of dozens of photographs and paintings. It led to my own fascination with tigers and animals. Not to the extent of becoming a zoologist, but an appreciation for all living creatures.
When my grandfather passed away late last year, the connection surfaced, along with a host of realizations about my life experiences and relationships that must have been obscured from my mind.
Worrying about the past or future has caused decades of silent grief in my own head. Learning to live in the moment and appreciate all aspects of life, whether good or bad, has been transformative to changing how I approach the world. And with this blog, I hope to share some of those transformations.
As the New Year begins and uncertainty creeps into our heads, we must be resilient and understanding to change. Uncertainty and change can be scary; but it can also be good. We just have to be mindful of others and ourselves. Learn how to spread positivity and ideas to those around us to make the world a great place.
