I have not been okay, but, like, I’m okay.

c/w suicidal ideations, alcohol/drug use, grief/loss

Hello, my loves. It has been a minute, hasn’t it? My instinct is to apologize for the long, procrastinated post; however, I am working on apologizing less for me just being me. Therefore, I am not sorry, but I would like to provide you with an explanation of my recent absence. I realize that writing a personal blog about my journey with mental health is both apparent when there is a post and when there is not a post.

Over the last month or so I hit a low… again. This time was different because I didn’t really see it coming. I was riding a high for so long, that even though I knew I would hit a downward slope again, I was hoping that just maybe I was wrong. Just maybe with my therapy and medication and stable partner I could just be “normal”, whatever that is. In my head “normal” is being able to live everyday without this overwhelming pain of the past and fear of the future grabbing ahold of you at different times in your life. I suppose after 2020 though, nobody is truly normal. Everyone I have talked to has struggled with their mental health is some way, shape, or form. Is this the new normal then? AM I NORMAL? I could never.

Anyways… While I used to think that my lows bloomed out of random acts of the universe, I now understand the many triggers that send me into a downward spiral. These last few weeks it was a culmination of so many things. The change in weather, in sunlight, election anxiety, work stress, the ins and outs of a new relationship, the coping skills from my eating disorder that I still lean into, the upcoming anniversary of the loss of a dear friend (re: Alex Wolf), the lack of continued contact to so many loved ones, the never ending news of millions upon millions of deaths from a virus that has been mishandled, the nightmares of people that have hurt me that wake me up in the middle of the night, my upcoming 30th birthday… need I go on? It wasn’t out of nowhere these feelings formed. My depression and how it responds to all of these life stressors is valid. Life is hard, having a mental illness is hard, writing this blog post is hard.

In fact, my roommate just walked into the room and said “are you crying? Is writing that hard?” And I just came to the realization that part of the reason I haven’t written anything in over a month is because I knew it was going to bring up a lot of feelings in me. These feelings are honestly a bit overwhelming. They sometimes show up as tears, or debilitation, or over activeness, or cold sores, or all of the above; it’s all a fine line. I must say this most recent slump has been much more manageable than my past experiences. I’ve only though about dying once, and it was so fleeting I wondered if it even counted- that is a major improvement for me. Hip hip hurray!

As I prepare to enter my 30th year of life, I can’t help but look back at the last 30 years and reflect on all the different ways my life has twisted and turned. Did I think I would ever be able to say I barely think of dying? When I was little, did I ever imagine the life that I am living right now? Not even a little bit. If my life had turned out the way I dreamed of as a kid, I would be famous, married, and have many adopted children, and probably live somewhere else like London or Australia. If my life had turned out the way I dreamed of when I was a teenager, I wouldn’t exist. And if my life had turned out the way I dreamed of as a young college student, I would be lawyer with a drinking problem.

Through these reflective moments, I am also reminded of how my depression has transformed over the years. How my low days are primarily a lack of motivation and much less suicidal ideations. How I am able to recognize it and provide myself with comfort instead of searching for it from strangers on the internet. The way that I reach out to those who truly love me, instead of pulling away from everyone that I love. Even just the way that I know that I am loved instead of feeling like the world would prefer that I not be here. I spent the last month in a depressive state and it didn’t scare me. I listened to the things that I needed in moments that felt the hardest and stopped shaming myself into feeling that it was wrong. It is hard enough being depressed and then also have my brain reprimand me for the way I was dealing with that depression.

I frequently ask my patients what their coping skills are and 9 times out of 10 they slink down into their chair and they begin to mumble that they smoke weed, or drink alcohol, or watch hours upon hours of TV. I try to reposition their mind set, the shame that lives within their slouched backs and mumbled tones. We are, at the core, humans trying to survive. Is drinking wine because I am sad the healthiest coping skill? Nah. Does it make me feel good in the moment, you can bet your bottom dollar. And I tell my clients just that. We do these things because we want to feel better and we shouldn’t shame ourselves into feeling bad for that. We can recognize that these are not long term solutions and that without getting real care and proper help these coping skills could create more harm than good; we can also recognize that sometimes getting stoned feels good. There is no healing when shame is masking all that we do, no matter what we are trying to heal from.

As I mentioned earlier, the anniversary of the loss of Alex Wolf is coming up on November 20th. Grief is not linear and there is no right way to heal. Many of us this year are experiencing that feeling. I can promise you that on Friday, I will be crying and I will have wine and I will call my best friend, his sister, and we will probably cry together and that might happen every year on November 20th and there is healing in that. I’m over feeling shame. Shame for what I put in my body, shame for how I heal, shame for how I look, shame for any of it.

Alex Wolf is one of the best people I’ve had in my life and when he passed I made a promise to live life like Alex. Alex was like the antidote for feeling shame. He made the people around him feel proud to be who they were because he was proud of himself and proud of his friends. In fact, I am smiling while I write this thinking about the time I was capturing images of my friends and asking them to give me their essence. [Image posted below.] Alex ran to put on his homemade corduroy shorts and take a picture with his best friend and I’ve never seen anyone more proud, even while me, his sister, and best friend mocked the shorts.

(Pictured: Stephanie B. and Alex W.)

So, all of this is to say 1. I haven’t been okay, but, like, I’m okay, 2. I still have depression and that is very real and I am still working to heal and cope, 3. thank goodness my life has taken twists and turns 4. There is no right way to cope, 5. Let’s stop shame altogether, 6. I miss you, Alex, 7. I am still trying to live my life like Alex, 8. Best friend, call me on Friday.

A[wo]men

when i let shame take ahold of me

i let go of knowing

i am exactly

where i need to be

-reasons to get rid of shame

Connecting it all

Hey friends. Today is Thursday in case any of you were wondering. I know days seem irrelevant in the current state of the world, but I am here to remind of arbitrary things like the day of the week and how we are already in the middle of July… somehow. My past week has been a week of grief, strength, and, if I’m being honest, pure angst.

I have been on this up and down rollercoaster of emotions which honestly reminds me of being a teenager. If I had to venture a guess, I would assume this is where the angst is coming from. It’s wild to me that even as a 29 year old I can be transported back to my 16 year old responses so easily. However, I am still 29, so the rollercoaster just ends up giving me acid reflux and neck pain. I’m easing into turning 30 quite swimmingly.

Grief is a funny thing. Not a like LOL hilarious funny thing, but like a this is oddly familiar, yet totally foreign funny thing. Whenever someone I love dies, I am flooded with memories of all the other losses I have experienced in my life. My first experience with death was as a kid. We had barn cats that would always think it was okay to cross the highway and very rarely did they make it. Although, my pet cat Eric (named after Eric Matthews/the boy I happened to have a crush on in 3rd grade with the same name) really did have 9 lives. He was one of our only cats that got hit by a car and ended up surviving. My little miracle kitty. Then, the first human loss I experienced was in high school. It was an odd thing to feel suicidal while also mourning the loss of a teenage life. I think I stuck around in the ‘bargaining’ stage of grief much longer during that period of my life. “Take me instead. Her life was better than mine. Why wasn’t it me?” I remember thinking nothing can feel as painful as this loss, but I was wrong. Each loss cuts through me, without warning, and I lose my own breath when someone else loses theirs. What I have learned from each loss is how grief is not a straight line of moving on, rather it is a scar that we will always live with and while the mark may dim it will always remain.

For a long time I hated my body. (I promise this connects, just hear me out.) For a long, long time I hated my body. I would curse the way it looked and prayed that some how it could change. In the last few years I have worked really hard to not only be comfortable with my body, but to love it. Each mark and dimple no longer gets harsh words tossed at them, but rather each part of myself has felt a gentle touch and words of love. Part of the past hatred included my scars- both the physical and psychological one. (See I told you it would connect again.) In my discovery of self love I have also learned how to heal in the other parts of life. Those scars, those losses, no matter how painful are the result of deep and vast love. I no longer sit around in the bargaining phase, instead I think about all of the ways that life impacted me. I use a gentle touch and words of love to work through grief.

When I first started blogging, I didn’t expect to ever right about loss or depression or mental health or a number of other topics I have touched on. In the beginning it was about me documenting my weight loss journey. I’m pretty sure I am 10lbs heavier than when I first started blogging, so jokes on all of you. The thing is, I didn’t realize that writing would actually help me overcome this desire to change everything about me. I didn’t realize that all this healing, this whole time, was actually a way for me to understand the way I move through the world.

I celebrated my one year anniversary of blogging [with more fervor and tenacity] recently and I spent some time reading through old post. I got to read real moments of self-discovery that I can remember viscerally. I am lucky enough to be able to go back in time and feel parts of myself that I might have otherwise forgotten. Through this reading, as I was mourning, I realized all the tools I have in my toolbox to get through hardships. All the ways I have built a community around myself to fall upon when I am struggling. I will go through a million more hard moments in my life, but I finally realize that I will make it through all of them.

With a loss there is a moment where we look upon the persons life and wonder if they were happy? If they did all the things they wanted to do? The thing I have realized about these questions is that we are partially asking them because we want to be happy; we want to do all the things we want to do. So, as I continue to move forward with this new scar I am being gentle with myself, I am using my tools, I am leaning on my supports, and I am reflecting on all the ways death brings new life.

A[wo]men

physical, mental, imaginary.

round, square, heart.

scars come in many shapes.

love them all

as they are u

-seeing all of urself

 

 

 

 

 

A Butterfly Spirit

Hi, friends. A lot has happened in the last two weeks, but I don’t want to talk about most of them. Most of them are minuscule and irrelevant at this point in time. This is not to diminish my experiences, but rather to express the fact that I’ve experienced a great loss this week. A loss changes your world, alters your perception, and minimizes all else around you. This past week my supervisor, my work advocate, my friend passed away- Vilma.

She was the light during one of the darkest times in my working life. I would work with her often and sit in her office. She had the worlds softest giggle that made things just seem like they would be okay. Vilma was an employee for 31 years, so her knowledge of the job was invaluable. I would often sit with her as she described what the role was like ‘back in the day’ and all the major changes along the way. During this time of uncertainty she would always say “Sarah, I’ve seen some really hard times here before. We’ll get through this.” She shared stories of her youth, how she would always leave her hair long and natural like I do and would only wear skirts and dresses, unlike I do.

We would often sit laughing at the fact that she had an iPhone 6 that refused to hold a charge. She would say to me “Sarah, come look at this. It’s at 15% and I haven’t used it all day!” I would ask her why she didn’t just get a new phone all the time and she always said, “eh, it still works though. Why would I get a new one?” And we would both giggle. She told me she loved her phone before this one and would still have it to this day if it didn’t shatter in her hands. We laughed at how the pieces of her old phone just broke. She thought it was a defect in the way it came apart. She made it clear to me thought that she didn’t need anything fancy, she just needed things to work. I admired this about her.

She also had a love for sweets. On my lunch break she would often give me her Starbucks gift card to pick her up a Frappuccino to help her get through the day. The last few times I worked with her I also would grab us both lunch to ease her need to walk far. Through this I learned that she loved Italian subs, with extra mayo, and Cole slaw on the side. She would also always want me to grab her a shake, but last minute would say- no I don’t need that, maybe next time. I wish I got her the milkshakes anyway. She would make hot cocoa in the break room, even on hot days when she needed a “quick fix”. Her face would light up when our coworkers would bring in donuts or bake sweet treats. I loved to see her smile.

She talked to me a lot about her family. It was clear she loved her family more than anything in the world. I got to hear stories of her father who worked in fancy hotels, and the stories he would tell her and the way he watched the landscape of New York City change over time. She spoke of her parents unending energy, even as they aged. She told me how much she hopes to have that much energy when she gets older. I wish I was right when I said “I bet you will, it runs in your family.” She should’ve have gotten that chance.

Her room was a spectacle and every patient that entered would say “I love all your decorations.” I wish I could’ve taken credit, but I’d always respond with “unfortunately, it’s not my room, but it’s my favorite room to work in.” Vilma was a big fan of tchotchke’s many of which she had collected over the years of working. I could spend hours sitting in her office discovering things I had no idea were there before. My favorite was a sign that read ‘kindness is always free” something Vilma always lived by. It sat across from where our patients sat, so I always wondered if it also served as a reminder for those sitting in that chair. Not that they would need it- Vilma was so kind it just radiated and permeated those around her.

Over the last few days I went from sadness that took over my entire body, to anger, to complete numbness. I knew writing this post would help me break out of feeling numb and enter a stage of feeling complete luck for having known such a beautiful person (while also feeling continued sadness). Writing and talking about my memories just reminds me that she was right when she said “I’ve seen some really hard times before. We’ll get through this.” The thought of getting through this without her is hard to imagine, but I know I can. She has given me strength over these last few months and will continue to be a guiding light for me. She may be gone, but her warmth, kindness, and maternal energy will always be with me.

I hope wherever you are, Vilma, there are endless shakes and sweets. I love you.

A[wo]men

your voice,

a memory.

ingrained forever-

soft,

gentle,

calm.

-a butterfly spirit

Alexander David Wolf

Hi my loves. Today I am one year older and one year more versed in all of life’s experiences, including the tough stuff. Last week you may have noticed that there was no new post, no update on my life, and no explanation as to why. Today, I would like to explain.

C/W death, grief, loss

On November 20th, 2019 Alexander David Wolf died unexpectedly at the age of 30. Alex Wolf is my best friends brother. When you have a best friend like I do, they are a part of our soul- their family becomes your family. When my best friend hurts, so do I. This last week I sat with her family in the pain that is the loss of Alex Wolf.

My hope today is to not only speak of loss but also of life. The first time I met Alex I was in La Crosse, WI. I immediately was crushing… hard. He was easy to talk to, a vegetarian, cared for the earth, and overall was one of the sweetest people I had met. Bonus, he was my best friends brother. “Rebekah, we could be sisters for real!” I remember saying on multiple occassions. Every time something bad would happen with a boy I would remark “it doesn’t really matter, I am going to marry Alex someday anyways.” He never knew I had a crush on him, but it’s a dream I never want to forget.

Alex lived in Minneapolis, so I didn’t get to see him too often. Although, Rebekah and I spent some weekends visiting him. Each visit with Alex I could see his love for his family and friends. Alex knew how to make people feel welcome in a way that I didn’t know was possible. I would sometimes wonder if I built him up in my head because of my crush, until this past week when I got to hear more and more stories from family and friends. Alex touched people in a deep way, a way that made them feel safe. Every story that was told brought tears, yet at the same time, brought smiles. It seemed almost impossible for people to speak of him without feeling that connection and his love.

Last week was absolutely one of the toughest weeks I have endured. Not only was I grieving for someone I held dear, but I also was trying to help my best friend who was hurting in a way I have not felt before. How do you help someone who feels as though a piece of them is forever gone? How do you hold your best friend and hear her say ‘I don’t know if I can get through this.’ What words suffice?

The answers are not simple, but I think when it comes to loss and grief we all just try to do our best. Sometimes it is saying nothing at all, just letting people feel exactly what they are feeling with no interruption of that thought. Sometimes it is holding a hand and/or wiping up snot. Sometimes it is posting quotes of grief and loss to instagram that seem helpful. Sometimes it is reflecting on the life of the person now gone. Sometimes it is reminding people to breathe and reminding them that sometimes that is all they need to do. Sometimes it is drinking wine at 3pm. Sometimes it is zoning out in front of the TV, turning off the brain for just a moment. This list could go on and on. The one thing though, that works without fail, guaranteed, is simply being there. I don’t necessarily mean physically either. Just being available to talk. Reminding people that you love them. Reaching out. These are the ways to help people work through pain. I often believe for most of life’s painful experiences, that we don’t need advice or even any words at all. There is power in hearing tears and not feeling the need to interrupt them. There is nothing that can bring Alex back and that is painful- nothing flowery about it. It sucks and it hurts and it is not fair. The loss of Alex is painful for the world. He was a gift to the human race. Alex lived simply and beautifully. He is gone too soon. So, for now I am here to hold a hand, provide a shoulder and/or ear, and a hug for those grieving Alex, or any other people in your life that you have lost. Grief is one of the toughest experiences for us to go through.

Though, as I enter a new year of my life, there is something I have learned from this loss that helps me to keep going: Live life like Alex. I’ve repeated it several times to myself since finding out. For me, there is no other option and no better way to honor his life and to work through the grief. Simply put, love each other and be there for one another, as Alex was.

To read Alex’s obituary follow this link.

A[wo]men

a smile, a tear, a fist, a laugh, a wish,

hurting and healing,

in their own way,

on their own time.

a loss is a loss is a loss.

-how people grieve

 

 

 

The Inevitable Connection

Hello folx. So, this weeks post is going to be a bit shorter because I am gearing up to do my first post on the most recent interview I did! I am so excited with how it is turning out and *Alert* you are not going to want to miss next week’s post. It will bring all the feels. Of course, I can’t bring all the feels without some serious dedication to transcribing and really getting deep into the work, hence the shorter post this week.

So, here goes the quick snapshot:

Tears flowing, ice cream in one hand, hitting the ‘continue watching  button’ on Netflix in the other, and on-again, off-again napping throughout the day. That was my Sunday- a ‘straight out of a rom-com’ scene. My body was on empty and I tried all day to refuel it with anything that I thought would make it happy.

‘You wanna go on a walk, girl? How ’bout a nap? Is she hungry?’

Turns out, I was exhausted from dating.

I called some friends to tell them how I was feeling. I told them how I feel empty, how I can’t believe I am still thinking about my ex, and how I keep meeting these really great guys and I can’t seem to move forward with any of them. They all responded with the same exact words: “You’re trying too hard.” Okay, rude, but like… so real. Thank goodness for friends and therapists, amiright?

So, I deleted the apps. I erased the accounts. I’ve called off the search for now.

I’ll be honest, the sense of relief that came from that small act was unreal. I couldn’t believe how much pressure I was putting on myself and how easily I could take that pressure off. I don’t know if you’ve ever done this, but sometimes I feel like I am going a million miles an hour and I can’t slow down because if I do I will fall apart. Of course, I always do slow down and I do fall apart and that breakdown is the catalyst for me moving on. A lesson I seem to keep forgetting.

I think that’s why I was putting all my energy into dating. I didn’t want to spend time thinking about all the hurt and change I experienced in a months time. I was recently reminded of everything I’ve gone through. In one month, I left a job and started a new one, I moved across the country and then moved again across Brooklyn, I quit drinking coffee, I went through a major and minor break-up. It almost feels unreal because I blew right past all of it. So, I am finally slowing down. I am sitting in all the change that I have endured and letting it wash over me.

The beauty is that we have all experienced some change in our lives and I am sure you can attest to the grieving process it can evoke. Just remember, that change is inevitable and that’s a beautiful thing because it’s just another way we can all connect to one another.

And as a sneak peak into next weeks post: The story-teller went through some big changes of her own at a young age and it has impacted the major changes she is going through today. I hope to connect more with you all next week through this brave and honest story.

A[wo]men

Fire and ice burn up through her throat,

a tornado inside.

“I can feel it,”

Water flows from her eyes,

sinking into the creases of her smile.

“I’m human.”