Thank You for Breaking Up with Me.

Mental Health

Dear Ex,

When you abruptly dumped me eight months ago, I thought the world had quite literally ended. I put my heart and soul into loving you, and I didn’t know anything else but how to do that. I started seeing a therapist, going to bible study and church weekly, trying new things in order to find my sense of identity again. As time went on, the pain grew less and less and the tears were far and few between.

By breaking up with me, you allowed me to find who I was. I dyed my hair brown, I got contacts, and I started to go on dates with other men. You unconsciously taught me how to enjoy solitude. I learned how to enjoy all of the free time that I have. Who knew that I loved reading so much?

When you broke up with me, I found Jesus. I was so broken for such a long time and when I didn’t have you to turn to any longer, I turned to God. I started going to church and pouring into the girls into my bible study. I created relationships with godly men and women who allowed me to see the works for Jesus for the very first time. I now read my bible everyday, have joined a wonderful church where I feel at home, and found a community who accepts me despite my rocky path.

I wouldn’t have found any of this if you hadn’t cut the cord. And I know it sounds really weird to say, but thank you for breaking up with me. You have allowed me to find myself. I am now a happy, carefree, independent woman who finally loves herself.

 

Thank you for taking over my life, but now I’m taking it back. 

Mental Health, Uncategorized

As I’ve shared before, I was abruptly dumped in the beginning of February. Since then, it’s been a whirlwind of a mess also known as my life. We had decided to stay friends (which is actually a terrible idea). I strongly believe because of this, I was not able to get over my ex completely. I had gone on dates with other guys and he had started to go on dates with other girls. But then he got into a relationship with one of those girls and it killed me. I started to doubt why he has actually broken up with me (he said it was to work on himself). I felt broken and lied to. Then the unthinkable happened: he text me saying his new girlfriend didn’t like That we were friends and that we couldn’t speak anymore. I cried. I sobbed and I cussed him out. 

But then I looked up. And I saw a bunch of birds sitting in a row on some telephone wires with the sunset in the distance. It was beautiful. It was like God sent me a message that it would be okay. I would be okay and I would move on. So I wiped my tears and decided to make the hardest decision of my life; I was going to delete my ex permanently from my life. So I did. I deleted his phone number. I unfriended him on Facebook and I removed him from snapchat. He was no longer in my phone and in my social media. I immediately felt a sense of liberation and no anxiety in my body. I’m finally taking control of my life. I’m healthily moving on.  

Oh, and I also deleted my tinder account. Permanently. This girl is gonna invest in herself. I bought Amy Poehler’s autobiography and Ellen’s autobiography from a use book seller on Amazon for a total of $10. Reading about these empowering women Will hopefully make me empower myself. I’m taking the reigns. Watch out world, she’s back! 

When You Need Someone The Most 

Mental Health

It’s funny how people say they’re always there for you when you open up about anxiety and depression…until you actually need them. 

Choosing to Open up to an individual about your anxiety/depression/self half is a huge thing in itself, in which most people claim to understand and “will always be there for you 24/7” if you should ever need them. Then on a random weekend when you cannot shake your depression, your mother worries that you have cut yourself off from the world and are headed towards relapsing, no one seems to be around or give a flying fuck about your problem. No one seems to want to listen and take the time to help you. Instead they reply with some lame textbook answer like “take a shower” or “write down gratuities”. It’s good to know that every time I go into an attack that you will tell me the same lame piece of advice that helped you get through that time you felt really sad. Sorry I have an actual medical problem and I’m hormonally fucked up. Dont worry about me though, I’ll go take that shower and write a list of why I shouldn’t have told you my issues in the first place. 

I have panic and anxiety disorder with chronic depression, two major mental illnesses that take up my entire day/week/month sometimes. I am on two different medications and go to two different types of therapies. Getting out of bed for me should have its own award ceremony. If I confide in you about my mental illnesses, if means I trust you. If I tell you about my self harming past, then you are pretty damn special to me and that is not something to be taken lightly. I think the thing that bothers me the most is that people don’t bother to get to know what helps me recover from attacks when I start to freak out. Tbh, I really don’t wanna take a shower and I’m sure as hell not picking up a pen and writing what I’m thankful for. Tbh, I’m fighting to not have to take a Xanax. I’m fighting tears, my inner demons, my thoughts and my mind. Go ahead and tell me to take a shower though. 

So if I decide to tell you my life story, either take it seriously or walk away and don’t hear it at all. The anxiety of waiting for someone to reply to me makes me die more inside. Waiting for someone to actually give a fuck….. 

Thoughts From A Serial Dater

Uncategorized

It’s no secret that I’ve been perpetually single since February when my boyfriend dumped me. Since then, I have gone on a long whirlwind of an adventure. At first, I swore off men. I wanted to find myself and grieve peacefully and focus on me. My ex and I were on good terms and decided to hook up every once in a while because let’s face it, sex feels good. 

One afternoon after hooking up, he left and I cried. I cried and cried and realized I cannot do this anymore. I wiped my tears and downloaded tinder. (Yes again). This is where my whirlwind of dating begins. I was seeing a nice fellow in the Air Force for a while and when that seemingly pittled out, I decided that I shouldn’t stick myself to one man. I decided to become a serial dater. 

I would not “put all my eggs in one basket” as my work mom would advise. I decided to set up rules for myself. No sex until at least the third date and not to become too attached. However, if things were working out really well with one guy, I would move forward and singly see him. 

I don’t think of myself as a slut. I am a 22 year old woman figuring out what she likes and what she doesn’t. I am not using men for free meals and coffee. I have self respect and I respect these men. I have found myself a few times in some “oh shit” moments where I have multiple men all wanting to hang out on a Saturday night, in which case you kinda have to play favorites. The hard part, is weaning someone out when you realize that there is just no connection. 

I am actually at a point where I want o delete tinder now, see which of the three guys I’ve been seeing off and on works out the best and go from there. 

DIY Swiffer Refill Pads

DIY/Crafty

Owning a swiffer broom is probably the best investment I made living in an apartment in college. Although I quickly realized that my other roommates were not going to contribute to the $6 solution and $4 dry pads for the contraption. In college, trying to save money whenever possible is the golden rule. Luckily I came up with this idea to make my own reusable refill pads that don’t need to be tossed after one use.  Here’s how to make your own DIY Swiffer Reusuable Refill pads for less than $1! 

These are all the materials you will need:

  • 2 washcloths (I used the Walmart brand and spent 97¢)
  • A swiffer duster  
  • A sewing machine and thread 

Here’s how to make it! 

  1. I went to Walmart and bought a 2 pack of bar mop dishcloths. The Walmart brand was only 97¢. 
  2. I then opened them up and had to fold in the washcloth a bit to make it fit the swiffer itself, and took straight pins to mark where the fold would be sewn later on. Do this for both sides of the washcloth until the bottom is snug.         
  3. I then used my sewing machine to sew the folded material together and did that for both top and bottom of both  Wash cloths.       I did leave a little room (shown above) on the corner where the Seams would meet for further tucking if one wishes. 
  4. You now have two Reusuable swiffer pads that cost $1 and can Be used dry as a duster or wet as a mop. The best part is that these can be reused over and over and are machines running washable!     

Finally Living for Me 

Mental Health

For years, I have lived under the wrath of whatever made mommy and daddy happy. Even 98.8 miles away in college, they still seemed to have a way to be behind every decision I made. That was until I couldn’t take it anymore and finally pushed back.

It wasn’t the exact pushback that I wanted, but a mental breakdown threatening to drop out of college was good enough for them to open up their eyes. I shouldn’t blame this on my father tho, he has always been supportive in a “it’s your life” kind of support and pretty much heard out all of my rational (or irrational) decisions. My mother is the hot headed strong one I have always had issues with.

It wasn’t always this way. Growing up, my mom worked from home as a day care provider and an independent sales associate for a gourmet food company. This means she was pretty much always around and drove me to whatever practice I needed to be at, picked me up, make me dinner, etc. My dad works for a 911 dispatcher center and has been a supervisor for as long as I can remember. He always worked some weird hours so I hardly saw him. Despite this, I still had a really good relationship with my dad.

As I got older, I grew closer to my dad, especially when my mental illness began to become prominent in my life. He helped me find my first therapist and took me to the doctor to get me some medication. My mom was completely oblivious to all of it. 

When I expressed interest in the medical field, my mom was elated. Her daughter would be continuing the family tradition of helping people. I decided to go into Nutrition and Dietetics. I decided to go to West Chester University, one of the top 10 Dietetic schools in the nation. Despite it being 100 miles away and outlandishly expensive, she supported me because of the career I would be getting. 

After getting to West Chester and starting these medical classes, I began to change them. I wanted to finish the semester and switch to Psychology, the major I got my Associate’s Degree in. I told my mom and she told me no, that I was giving up too soon and that I would get better. I listened to her and kept going in Nutrition. 

The following fall, I began to truly hate Nutrition and wanted nothing to do with it. I wanted to go into fashion and move home. She flipped out and forced me to stay at West Chester. 

I think if my mother could have it her way, I’d become a clinical dietitian in the hospital she works at and live in her basement for the rest of my life. 

Here is the spring semester and after having a complete and total mental breakdown, she finally got it. I threatened to quit school and told her how F***ing miserable I was in this degree program. She finally listened. I spoke with my advisor and he agreed that I shouldn’t stay in this program if I had truly lost my passion. He then told me about a program called Professional Studies. Essentially, you fulfill your general education requirements and pick two minors and that makes up your degree. My first minor would obviously be nutrition, and my second will most likely be psychology, something I love and due to many of the credits from my community college transferring, I would probably be able to graduate much faster. 

I am now doing things for me. I’ve learned that although I love my mother, she is not the one running my life. I am in charge of all my actions and decisions. Although I am unsure of where this degree will take me after graduation, I have many options and can decide to continue on with my education when I want. On my terms. On my own because I know in the end, the only person that can make me happy, is me. 

Warr;or 

Mental Health

A semi colon is used when s sentence could have ended, but didn’t. It keep on going. For many people such as myself, mental illness is a giant semi colon. There are so many times where I just wanted to stop. Stop going to class, stop caring, stop living. The hard part about being 100 miles away from my family is that I can’t just go home and cry to my mommy whenever life gets tough. I have to keep going out here and live for myself. I have to get myself up in the morning, I have to take care of my medications and going to school/work and doing my homework. I guess that’s a part of adulthood, living on your own and figuring out “how to life” without your parents there to dictate you. Semi colons help redirect things. 

I have dealt with self harm/injury for about a year now. During these times, I don’t remember having any direction in my life, little support, and had to keep going because in college, you can’t afford a mental health day. Not for a science major. It’s ironic that the numbers of mental health cases and students who seek mental health support in campuses have skyrocketed in the past decade, yet we don’t have mental health days every once in a while. 

Lately, I’ve been sleeping a lot. Like A LOT. On Sunday, I slept for 12 hours and 27 minutes according to my Fitbit, and on Monday night I slept 11 hours and 24 minutes. Some of my friends simply said I needed the sleep because I’ve been so stressed out, while others said its a sign of depression. While both are true, I am unsure as to whether it is physical or mental health related. 

While I look so happy, I’m actually fucking miserable and if you look closely, you’ll see a sleeve of pen drawn butterflies on my forearm. One for the man I love. Another for my best friend. A little further down you’ll see scarring and even further, a semi colon. 

Why do I do it? I do it to relieve the pain inside me. I get into panic mode and the thought rushes through my head and harps there until I do something about it. I lash out on myself. I would never hurt anybody, anything. I can hurt myself and be completely okay with it. Sickeningly enough, I’m fascinated by the cuts. 

I wonder if you walk by me if you can see the pain I’m in. How much I ache inside, how broken I am. If you look deep into my eyes, can you see the tears? The panic, anxiety and depression? Probably not. I put on a pretty good front. All you see is a blonde with a well rehearsed smile and brand name clothes and a face of makeup. The makeup hides the bags of sleepless nights and the mascara is an illusion to a bright eyed girl. The brand name clothes help me fit in and become a pin in society. They also cover the scars, the cellulite, the everything I hate about me. 

It’s not all bad though. I’ve had to go through some pretty tough shit. My dog dying of cancer, my job kicking me to the curb, starting a new job, my boyfriend dumping me; all among the responsibilities of college. I’ve lived through it. I guess that makes me a warrior. A fighter. Katy Perry once sang: 

I got the eye of the tiger, the fighter, dancing through the fire. Cause I am a champion and you’re gonna hear me ROAR

I consider myself more of an owl, quiet and observant, however, that makes for a different topic, a different post. For now, I’m just trying to be a Warr;or. 

I’m not crazy but…

Mental Health

Mental illness is funny. Not like “Haha” funny, but it’s funny how it works. An idea or thought pops in your head. And then you process the thought and for most people, they discard it or act upon it. For a person with mental illness, they harp on the idea or thought, often getting opinions from others and then discarding it and becoming anxious about whether or not you should have done it and if you do act upon it, I guarantee the person will relive the moment in their head again and again using self ridicule. 

I have been diagnosed moderate to severe anxiety and depression and panic/anxiety disorder. I speculate I have some sort of agoraphobia and borderline personality disorder (BPD) as well, although they have been undiagnosed. 

I go to an individual therapist and also participate in group therapy on my college campus, take Xanax and Prozac, and do lots of meditation in order to keep myself sane and out of harm’s way. 

Honestly, I can’t remember what life was like before I developed all of this. I live my life around my mental illness and there is so much stigma around it still that I feel like I am supposed to just keep my mouth shut in public or at work or really with anyone unless it becomes necessary. I feel like I’m crazy sometimes. I say sorry a lot and seek affirmations from people constantly. I have chronic crying spells and I guess I would describe myself as “emotionally unsound”.  I’m a mess some days. There are times I can’t even get myself out of bed. I skip class sometimes because of it, and last semester I literally skipped class so much that I found myself pulling shit of my ass at the end of the semester in order to pass. 

To me, having a good support system is most important to me. I struggle with whom I can trust with that thought. I mean, who really wants to deal with an emotional time bomb? I feel like I’m a burden to people sometimes. That’s when I start to feel the need to apologize. For what? I don’t know. Oh you can’t hang out but don’t know that I’m feeling suicidal? I’m sorry. I don’t like to make people stop doing what they’re doing to make sure that I’m okay. 

I have a very high set of standards for myself and most of the time, I can’t reach the bar and won’t let it come down. I then become disappointed and it triggers me, causing a spell. A spell I cannot be broken from.  

Healing Me – My Story

Mental Health

Many are the Afflictions of the righteous, But the Lord delivers him out of them all.

 -Psalm 34:19

I have been hurt in many ways over the past few months. Over a very short period of time, my world was turned upside down. My dog was diagnosed with cancer and ultimately was put down, my job seemed to be pushing me out and so I found a new one, and my boyfriend was struggling with his own inner afflictions and decided we needed to take a break. How does one deal with this much pain all at once? I was going in twenty different directions and hopelessly lost. The worst part? I didn’t seek God through any of it.

Let me backtrack, I am a believer in Jesus Christ. Growing up, I was what you called a “two a year” Christian. I was religious so to speak, but my family and I only went to church on Christmas and Easter. Every once in a while I would go to church with my grandma as a child, but that would mostly result in eating stale animal crackers and coloring pictures of Adam and Eve. I didn’t really have a foundation in Jesus.

In eighth grade, my mom and I were saved in a church in upstate New York where many of my family members reside. I was saved, but I had no clue what that entailed. We found a church near our home in Phillipsburg, New Jersey, and immediately starting going. I was thirteen, so I couldn’t go to kids church anymore, so I sat with the adults. I had no clue what this man in a suit and tie was talking about. Redeemed? Set free? I didn’t know much of anything besides the fact that I had accepted Jesus into my heart and that this God was supposed to help me and heal me.

I was an active member of my youth group throughout high school, playing guitar and doing vocals for our worship team, but that was all I knew how to do. I knew how to sing songs to Jesus, but I didn’t know how to pray to him. I was actually somewhat afraid when we had alone time with God. I’m somewhat embarrassed to admit that I still struggle with this, and worshiping with my guitar and singing songs are my one true way to pray to God.

I came to West Chester in the Fall of 2014, and had nothing. I lived just under one hundred miles away and knew one person, and not very well. Its like I completely forgot that I had God as my friend, my guide. I would hook up with guys to find the love that I so badly wanted, and never received it. Around this time, my anxiety skyrocketed. I went to the counseling center and they set me up with a therapist. I have seen therapists before back home, but had such an awful experience that I was so hesitant to return. Therapy at that time was just a crutch to help me adjust to the change of being so far away from my family. I began to abuse my medicine and take it as I saw fit, and I began to starve myself and over exercise. I had this misguided thought that maybe if I looked a certain way and acted a certain way, I would make friends and get a boyfriend. It actually made my life worse.

Fast forward to spring semester when one Thursday night I got a snap chat from a boy in my philosophy class, it was a video of people worshiping and had the caption” Cru”. Those voices sounded wonderful and I immediately wanted to know what this Cru was and how I could join, it looked like so much fun! So I did some research and found out that this was a christian based group on campus that met weekly with song and sermons. I wanted to be a part of it ASAP! After research and a week of waiting, I found myself in Sykes Ballroom the week before Easter, sitting by myself nervously waiting to see what this Cru was all about. I remember this girl tapping me on the shoulder and asking me if it was my first time here and if I was sitting alone, I nodded. She said “Well this is Cru and i’m Danielle [Wilson], can I sit with you?” The songs were familiar to the ones I had sung back home, providing me with comfort. Mark Hough spoke that night and though I don’t remember what he talked about, I knew that I wanted to return the next week.I called my mom right after that i had found a church group on campus, and it was good! For the rest of the semester, I went every Thursday, and throughout the summer I remember yearning for Fall semester to begin so Cru would start back up.

Fall 2015 semester started and I was so gun-ho for Jesus. I went every Wednesday, joined a  community group, and sought ways to become more involved. The second I found out about Fall Retreat, I knew I was there. I called my mom and begged her for the money. I saw Scott from staff sitting at a table before outdoor Cru one week and asked him how I could sign up and he told me the website opened up literally fifteen minutes beforehand. I rushed back to my apartment and i’m still certain to this day that I was the first person to sign up for Fall Retreat.

Fall Retreat by the way, was AMAZING. I think they need to add one thing to the packing list for next fall: Tissues. I literally cried so many times. I felt the holy spirit within me and was surrounded by such godly people. During women’s time was when I truly learned what it meant to be a Born – Again Believer. If anyone has ever heard the song “Out of Hiding” you’ll understand why I needed the tissues. I left that weekend with the tools to become a a Jesus Warrior (if that’s even a thing) and couldn’t wait to bring all this holiness back to campus.

That euphoric feeling didn’t last long. I began to become deeply depressed. I began to self harm, was suicidal and I would cut myself to find a relief in the pain that I was feeling. Really what I was doing was replacing it. It’s like everything that I learned weeks before had been washed away and I was lost again. I still went to Cru every once in a while, but I wasn’t as into it as I once was. 

I didn’t go to the trip on winter break due to work and other reasons, and I find myself regretting it lately.

Fast forward to today. I have started a prayer journal, found a good therapist, and am four months clean of self harming. Yes, the last two weeks of my life were completely upside down, and I was lost and I was scared. I reverted into old ways, but after hearing Jim Donohue speak at Cru last night, it gave me a new sense of hope and things kinda clicked again. This time, I am making God a priority in my life. I have reached out to my bible study girls who have been such an impact on my life in the past few weeks and even helped me work through my breakup by getting the group together for a brunch on the weekend. My friend Ryan invited me to Providence Church, where Mark Hough was the speaker that week! I met up with my bible study leader for lunch and left feeling so amazed how God has worked though these people to help me. I am now able to be independent and am working on my relationship with God each and every day. This time I set aside time for God, and I know that he hears me.

                                                         spring 2016