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Wednesday, August 27, 2014

An open book

I've written a lot of things over the years about my own personal feelings and experiences. I've never been shy about sharing my opinions and letting the world into my heart. I am...an open book.

Though I've shared almost every detail of my life and expressed my feelings openly, there is one subject I never really touched. I've talked about the challenges I've faced in my life, losing my parents and struggling to figure out who I was. I took you step by step through my pain and my happiness, from my first marriage to my first divorce, my first child to my last child and all the losses in between, my wild party days and my experiences as a mother and wife.  You laughed with me, cried with me, gave me advice, showed me enormous amounts of love and brought me back to reality.  For all that, I am grateful. Every hug, every tear, every second of laughter, every heartbreak and every accomplishment in my life...you've been there.  You are all my mentors, my family, my friends. I let you in and you loved me.  I am who I am today because of all of you.

There was a time when it wasn't so easy to smile. It wasn't easy to wake up and get out of bed. It wasn't easy to just live. I know now that a lot of what I went through in my life was not uncharacteristic of a teenager, or at the very least that I wasn't alone. I may have thought so at the time, like most teenagers do. All the love that I was surrounded with was not always enough. I have always had people in my life that loved me...I just didn't always realize it.

Depression sucks. If I had seen a psychologist or a psychiatrist as a teenager...wait...I did. That didn't work out so well.  After I 'ran away' from home, the court ordered me to some counseling. Although the judge agreed it was best for me to live with my grandparents...they still thought it was in my best interest to be counselled into normalcy.  We all know that going to a professional when we are a little broken will straighten us right out.  2 years and $2000 down the road...we'll be so grateful we got the help we so desperately needed.  There was no way some stranger was going to tell me who I was or what I was going to do. This person may have a degree and may make a living 'fixing' people, but I was not your average screwed up kid. I was going to need a team of professionals.  I do believe the reason I was able to forgo the counseling was because I was so close to 18 years old that no one wanted to fight me on it. That's a shame because if I would've allowed them to open me up a little back then...I think it would have done me a world of good. I'm sure now that telling that lady she was the one that needed counseling was a bad idea.

I was, by definition, a typical teenager. Everything made me mad. I was selfish. I lied. I was rude. I was sad...a lot. I didn't know empathy. Everything in the world revolved around me. I was very critical of myself. I knew everything. I was sarcastic (some things never change). I was strong willed and hard headed. I was going to prove everyone wrong. And...I was wrong. But I didn't know that...until now.

So many nights I would lie in bed for hours, listening to my radio and just sobbing. I didn't know why but once I started, I couldn't stop. I had the emptiest feeling. 'Poor me" doesn't even come close to the emptiness I felt. No one understood me. No one was listening. No one really cared what I was feeling or saying. Everyone had this obligation to care for me, but no one really cared. Everything just...hurt. The sadness I felt every single day was literally eating away at any chance of happiness I had and I knew it. I knew I would not be able to 'survive' the sadness. It was going to kill me, one way or another. I had so many questions. I was so lost. Life was so unfair. Why was I even born if all I was going to have to do was feel sadness all day, every day? How would I ever be able to feel the happiness I saw on other peoples faces? If the sadness and the pain were as bad as I thought they were back then...one of my dozens of attempts to stop it would have been successful. Something disagreed. Something stopped me, every time.

In high school I would walk silently down the hall, minding my own business, not making eye contact or talking to anyone.  I was afraid. No, I was terrified. I wasn't like the other kids. If I actually had a conversation with them, they weren't going to like me anyway. I didn't fit in with any particular group so I just minded my own. There were a few people, friends, who could see through whatever I was feeling and decided to be my friend, anyway. I don't mean the 'friends' that smiled in my face and laughed behind my back. I mean the 'friends' that stuck by me when I was scared and sad. The 'friends' who took time out of their day to call me or sit with me at lunch. The 'friends' who asked me how my day was and invited me to stay at their houses. The 'friends' who put their own fear on the back burner to stand by me, holding my hand and speaking for me when I was too upset to do it myself. Maybe they fought the same demons. Or maybe they just didn't care. Or maybe...they did care and that was why they decided to be my friend. Whatever the reason....I'm forever grateful. The typical teenager in me definitely wanted attention, of some sort. But the part of me that was terrified didn't want the wrong kind. I was closer to a few teachers than I was any of the students. One teacher, in particular, Madam Kamal, took the time to talk to me....or let me talk, I should say. She didn't try to fix me and she didn't offer much advice. She just apologized for my sadness, as if it was her fault, and promised me that I was amazing in every way...and some day I would see it. Mrs. Hoffmeister, my home economics teacher was also one of my more intuitive teachers. She was the one that told me about a support group that I eventually joined.  I stayed in that group through my 4 years of high school. It was in that group where I first realized I wasn't alone. We were sworn to secrecy because we were all just a bunch of lost kids who had it rough at home in one way or another. It was a safe haven, a sacred place where we could open up and not be judged, a place where other people understood us a little better. No one knew I was in this group except for the other students in that room and the teacher/counselor that was responsible for us during that hour, every day. It wasn't until my junior year that I opened up and started sharing my actual feelings about things. I talked before that...but only about specific situations that occurred, never about my actual feelings. I could tell my story and relate to other students enough to keep me in the group...but I didn't have to tell them how I actually felt about it. Maybe I didn't tell...because I was embarrassed. Maybe I was ashamed. Or maybe I just wasn't sure how I actually felt. Everyone in that room had stories and as time went by my perspective on things in general started to change. I was starting to see that I didn't have to conform to someone else's idea of "happy". I was slowly learning how to just be me.  Unfortunately, once I walked out of that room...I wasn't so confident that I'd ever actually find that happiness.

Every night I crawled into my bed and cried. Every morning I woke up and cried. All day I walked around in a trance, terrified, sad, sorry and hollow. A lot of teenagers look like this so to most of the people around me, I'm sure they didn't put a lot of thought into what might be troubling me. Or at least, they didn't ask. And for the most part, I didn't tell.  I pretended a lot though. A LOT. I wrote down my thoughts in the form of a poem at times...all of which I've lost over the years. Sometimes I just wrote to myself...or to the demon responsible for my awful emotions....and then I would destroy it so no one else could read it. And then, of course, I'd cry some more. I would spend entire weekends in my room, only coming out to use the restroom or grab a handful of crackers. I organized and reorganized everything in my room....often. I made lists.  Things that made me laugh, things that made me cry, how many friends/relatives I had, what I wish I had in my life, what I wish I didn't have in my life, how many different kids of cereal I've ever tried.....lists.  It made time go by a little less slowly. If I only had 2 hours until 'bed time' then I had 2 more hours to write. I spent a lot of time, alone, in my room. I tried so many times to find something positive to hold on to....something that would be stronger than the pain I felt in my heart and my head. One of those things was my sister, Lynden. I never wanted her to see me upset though I'm sure she did a time or two. I was hers, all hers. I never wanted to see her hurt or see her cry....and I did everything in my power to see that it never happened. If I was concentrating on her in any way....I wasn't thinking about me. There were a lot of things that were out of my control at that time in my life...but she wasn't one of them. She was perfect. For 4 years, until the day I left home for good, Lynden was my beacon. She was my one reason not to let the sadness take over. It was still there....all the time.  I still hurt, I still cried and I still fought the urge to just end it all...but her sweet little face kept me above water, every time. That sweet, innocent little girl loved me so much. As did my friends, David and Carla. They would let me cry, lend their shoulder, bad mouth my enemies, make me laugh, hug me and generally make me feel better. Thank goodness, for them. David was there for one terrifying experience that I will never forget. He stood up for  me...and he sat by my side, knowing he'd get in trouble when he got home, until 2:00 a.m. He held my hand and promised he was always staying as long as I needed him. Carla was there on so many occasions...and she was always on my side, no matter what battles she was facing, herself. I wonder if they knew the role they played in my life back then. I wonder if they know just how much I love them, today.

From about the age of 10 I've battled depression and anxiety. Every. Single. Day. This isn't something that just goes away. Medications don't necessarily help either. They can mask it. They can slow it down a little. The only thing I've found that has truly helped with my depression is love. I don't mean someone giving you a hug and telling you they love you. That helps...for the moment. Having people that care enough to tell you they love you is by far the biggest, positive step in surviving depression. Believing those people is a bigger step.  In the last 26 years I've learned a lot about myself. I'm a lot less selfish than I was at 13, for sure. I now know the world doesn't revolve around me and it will definitely continue to go on without me. I know I'm capable of being loved exactly the way I want and deserve to be loved. I know I'm worthy of that love. I know the value of the life I've been given. I know that every day that I wake up, alive and breathing, is a blessing. I've learned to focus more on the things and the people that make me happy and less on the things and people that don't. Every day is a new day. There isn't a day that passes that I don't feel sadness for one reason or another.  The difference between 13 year old me and present day me is that I no longer let that sadness consume me. Some days are easier than others but I'm here...and I'm happy...and I'm blessed.

Had it not been for the people in my life that held out their hand, believed in me, pushed me, fought for me and loved me...I know I would not be here today. Recently the world suffered a loss that in the eyes of some was just another product of life in the spotlight. I said over and over how near and dear the subject was to me but I thought if I opened up a little more, someone might read my story and realize that they are not alone. Sadness is intoxicating and taunts me daily. I'm not just a sensitive girl. I fight the sadness every day and I don't always win. But what gets me out of bed every day is knowing I'm not alone, I'm loved, and I'm much stronger than the sadness.  Every impossible situation I've faced in my life was overcome because of the love I have in my life. If you are feeling that overwhelming sadness, the loss of strength to fight it, powerless to change it...please don't give up. Someone out there loves you, even if you can't love yourself. Every day that you wake up, alive and breathing, you are beating the sadness.  Every time someone reaches out their hand, offers advice, takes the time to listen to you, loves you....you are beating the sadness. I know I'm not perfect, and I don't strive to be.  But somebody loves me.  And that makes me very happy.

Love has many names in my life. That love multiplies daily. If you are reading this, thank you for taking the time to do so and for caring enough to want to know my story. Please share it if you know someone that may be suffering from depression, anxiety or any mentally incapacitating disease or disorder. Love is a very powerful thing. If you see someone who looks like they need a hug, a minute of your time to just listen or maybe a cheeseburger...reach out your hand. You never know who's waiting for an angel in their life. <3

4 comments:

  1. As the tears ran down my face reading your blog ... It brought back flashes of my awful 4 year experience of high school. I never fit in either. However I do remember your beautiful face Sam. I considered you a friend. No we were not close but always stopped to chat. I wish I knew of this private group but as you know it is so easy to keep that fake smile on your face as if everything was perfect but go home to a home with abuse and no love lead to the running away and getting married at 17 to leave this place. Someday I will have my happily ever after until then taking it one day at a time. Thank you for sharing. You are simply a very bewute amazing lady inside and out. Love you Sami

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  2. Brandi....I love you too!! I had no idea you had a rough life at home as well. <3 I guess we're good at hiding, huh? The group was Alateen....like Alanon. Alanon is a group for recovering alcoholic and abusive adults. Alateen is for the kids that suffer because of the adults that have alcohol issues and are abusive. There were A LOT of people we were friends with in that group. When I took my dad to court to be emancipated, the counselor from that group was there as one of my witnesses. I believe he is the reason the judge saw through the bull and allowed my grandparents to take custody of me. I also made a lot of mistakes, having a baby at 18, getting married too young and then divorced less than a year later. I had no idea I would find my prince in the most unlikely of places....so don't give up, girl!!! If God brings you to it...he'll bring you through it. You are beautiful and intelligent and MOST deserving of a happy life. Don't accept any less. Love you to the moon!! xoxoxo

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  3. You are right I can't stop believing god will bring me through it but those days when you want to lock yourself away are more and more each day. If it wasn't for my beautiful children I wouldn't be here. I did not have a mom or dad either. My mom left when I was just a 3 years old my sister was a baby. My father when I was 5. I finally met my mom when I was 16 and I still struggle with a relationship with her as my father is coming up on his 20 year sentence in the Arkansas Department of Corrections. You just become a pro at the fake smiling the wishing and hoping life was different. So my beautiful children keep me going as I strive to be a better mom everyday be sure my biggest fear is being like my mom. As well as being a good sister and friend. Love you to the moon and back.

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  4. I've never met your mother, but I don't think you need to worry. You are a wonderful mother and a GREAT friend!! xoxoxo I'm always here if you need to talk....or cry...or yell...or get drunk. ;-) xoxoxo

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