Mental Illness: 1 Willpower: 0

It was the last round of the fight; my face was bloody, my hands were shaking, my right eye had long been swollen shut, and my left eye was blinking rapidly to keep the blood from the blow to my head from obscuring my vision. I raised my fists, my knuckles bleeding and covered in bruises, for one last time. I took hit after hit, swiftly falling to my knees, my arms over my head acting as a shield as I finally succumbed, curling myself into a ball on the floor and accepting the punches as they came; I had no fight left in me.
This is how I feel after a particularly rough go of trying to fight my mental illnesses.

2 years ago, I was diagnosed with Depression and Generalized Anxiety Disorder, and my life hasn't been the same since. See, before, I had a feeling that there was something more going on with me, but I didn't know what, and I didn't know how to cope with it. This often resulted in me getting frustrated easily and letting it out on those closest to me. Many harsh words, ungrateful attitudes, and unnecessary fights came about a result of the pain I was feeling but didn't know how to process.
My mental illnesses can lead to me being easily overwhelmed by even simple tasks, being over-sensitive, crying easily, and wanting to retreat from the world in fear. It means wrestling with my inner demons telling me I'm not good enough, no one likes me, that I will always be on the losing side, I'm too awkward, too weird, too loud, too talkative, too messy, too emotional, open, scared, and inexperienced, too imperfect to be truly loved by anyone, including myself. Many times, I feel as though I'm simply faking my way through this thing we call life while everyone else seems to have it together.  
I do have days, however, when I am genuinely happy, when I have energy and feel as though I can do anything I put my mind to and I'm able to forget that I have depression or anxiety. I love those days. I have also come to fear those days, because I know that when the depression or anxiety does decide to rear its ugly head again, it will be that much worse.
But lately, I've come to realize I wouldn't have such an appreciation and gratitude for my good days without the bad. I wouldn't have as much compassion, empathy, understanding, and yearning to learn more and help without my bad days.

I am still looking for the magic key that will open the door to my mind that allows it to be free from all this destruction. But until then, I will keep doing what I can. I will keep fighting the negative thoughts that rage through my mind, replacing them with more positive, healthy thoughts. I will remember my good days when in the midst of my bad, and the promise my Savior gave me 2 years ago on that fateful day my world changed; that if He could pull me out of this, there is nothing He can not help me through. So with that in mind, I keep on keeping on.
I place one foot in front of me, stand up, and raise my well-weathered fists as I stare my inner demons in the eye and smile; I still have some fight left in me, after all.

How Mental Illness Helped Stregthen My Testimony in Christ

I don't remember the exact moment I realized I wasn't happy. I just remember sitting in church one day and knowing that I couldn't keep going on like this. I was beyond miserable. Nothing made me happy, I couldn't care less about the things I used to love, I thought that everyone hated me and that I never did anything right, and I hated myself. I mean hated myself.
So, I made an appointment with my bishop (a religious leader over my congregation). I sat down and spilled my guts out about how I hadn't been happy for a long time. I felt like I was a failure and a disappointment to everyone who met me and that I wasn't good at anything, and so on and so on. I didn't understand why I was feeling this way. I read my scriptures, I said my prayers, I went to the temple (a sacred place where we do proxy work) semi-regularly, I attended church every week, did my calling (an assignment in my congregation). I was doing everything that I was supposed to do, so why wasn't I happy? My bishop listened patiently, though he expressed his surprise at my feelings, and told me some of my options. I really only remember one; talking with a therapist he recommended.
"You don't have to go to therapy, but if you do, I recommend her. She's great."
He gave me a name and an address and encouraged me to think and pray about it. I remember thinking that therapy was not for me, but at this point I was willing to at least consider it and do as he asked.
About three weeks later, I found myself standing at the reception desk of that therapist's office and making an appointment for my first therapy session. Especially surprising to me given that I had been on my way to the temple, not the therapists office.
I don't remember much from my first session, but I do remember the diagnosis: depression and general anxiety disorder.
I'm not really the type of person to ask "Why me?" when things go wrong in my life.
That night, I did.
I sank to my knees in the middle of the kitchen, sobbing so hard I thought my heart would break, asking God over and over again why I had been given this trial, why He would ever give ANYONE this trial. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. It was so dark, so empty, so hopeless. How could He let any of His children go through this horrible thing? That's when a thought came to me, one I wouldn't come to fully appreciate for a long time. "If He can pull me out of this, there is nothing He can not help me through."
I decided to put all my faith and trust in that statement, and when the winds blew and the black clouds of despair hung over me, when I felt less than, when I wanted to do nothing but lay around and wallow in my misery, when I thought that everyone hated me and the world was against me, when I hated myself, that thought came to me. It sustained me until a new thought was able to take its place. "He can and will help me through this," eventually leading to "He is helping me through this."
Looking back, I can see the Savior's presence in my life. He was there for me every step of the way, helping me, strengthening me, comforting me, and most importantly, loving me. Even when I felt unworthy of His love. ESPECIALLY when I felt unworthy of His love. It's like the footprints in the sand poem. There have been many times in my life when I've given the wheel over to Him and He carried me through my trials until I could stand and walk with Him. Other times, He simply lent a hand. And there have even been a few times when he has had to practically drag me where I needed to be. But He has never, not even for a second, forsaken me. Not when I've been jealous, or angry, or had my doubts. He's never given up on me. He is my truest friend, the best example, and He is my personal, every day Savior.
That's not to say I don't still have bad days. I do. In fact, I've been having a really hard week this past week. I've fallen back into some old habits that are not the best for my physical or mental health. I've felt jealousy, anger, annoyance, pride, sadness, and everything else under the sun. I still, occasionally, have an anxiety attack (though they have gotten much better). I'm not perfect. But He is. And with Him, I can repent every day and try again tomorrow. And if all I can do is be a little better today than I was yesterday, then that's good enough for me, and surprisingly, good enough for Him, too. That's the good thing about the gospel; "...We get credit for trying." Jeffrey R. Holland.
So take it from me, a little Mormon girl. If He can help me through what I've always imagined Hell would feel like, if He can take someone who so utterly despised themselves they could barely stand to face themselves in the mirror everyday, who was so full of hurt and pain, He can and will help you. It's not easy, and it doesn't happen in a single day. You still have to work at it. But it does happen. I'm proud today of who I am and what I've been through. I believe it's made me stronger and more sympathetic to others plights. It's helped strengthen my testimony in my Savior's healing power.
I bear this as my witness, that from the darkest night comes the sunniest day, that when you feel as if the entire universe is against you, when you wonder if anyone out there listens or cares, He does. And so do I.

Stories

Everyone has their own story. Last Wednesday, I was invited to sit in on an interview for a web series called True Stories of Addiction (link below). Before going in, I was warned that they (the interviewers) had not heard her story before and did not know what she might say about her life, or how graphic she might be. Knowing this, I sat down and prepared for whatever may come.
The interview started off calmly, with her simply stating her name, her addiction, and where she grew up. As the interview went on, however, we got into more serious details, such as the first time she used drugs, things she experienced while on drugs, and her personal rock bottom. There was one point, about halfway through, where we took a break, and I felt the strongest urge to give her a hug.
Something you have to understand about this woman is that she is so incredibly strong. I met her briefly before the interview, and I never would have guessed in a million years half the stuff she went through. I think that's true for everyone, though. You can't tell what a person has been through, or is currently going through, just by looking at them, or talking to them for a couple minutes.
This woman's story was full of heartbreak, pain, anguish, trials, anger, and fear, yet the woman I saw in front of me seemed free. As she spoke, I could tell it was all very, very real. She had had life experiences that few have, and she was alive to tell the tale. Not only is she alive to tell her story, but she is healthy. She is sober. She is someone who has found a place in the world as one who can help others the way few can, because of everything in her life up to this point.
She had a light. I don't know how else to describe it. But she glowed with strength, conviction, beauty, lessons learned. While her story was at times extremely difficult to hear, I was better able to handle it knowing the end result. Knowing that everything she was telling us had led to the formation of the woman I saw before me. And knowing that her story doesn't end here, but keeps going, on and on to it's new path. Her new path. The one she has forged for herself out of the darkness and despair that a life of addiction brings.
This woman is wonderful. This woman is so incredibly strong. This woman is honest and open. This woman is one of thousands who go through addictions and all the consequences of it and pull themselves out of it, that decide they no longer want to live that way.
There are many different types of strength. The strength to overcome situations not of your doing, things that are out of your control, to use them to your advantage and rise above. The strength to recognize that you don't like the person you've become, or the choices that you've been making, and the desire to want to change all that. The strength to not play the blame game. The strength to forgive. The strength to go after something you want. The strength to let your feelings and passions show, even if others think you are crazy or unrealistic. The strength to help lift up others without judgment or criticism, just love and mercy, The strength to accept help when needed, and to give help when you can. The list goes on and on.
Everyone has their own story, and therefore, everyone has their own strengths built from a lifetime of experiences unique to them. One person's strength is not the same as another's. My strengths and weaknesses, though on the outside simple to fit into a box or category, are not the same as someone else who has had a similar life. My strengths are my own, and yours are yours, and so on and so forth. If you want to know a person, really know them, look not at their past, but at how far they have come from it. What they have done with the life given them. It is not our circumstances that make us who we are, but rather our choices.
Make the choices that will lead you to who you want to become, every day, in every circumstance.
Everyone has their own story. Make yours a good one.

Link to True Stories of Addiction: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yPr25mCkyos

Apologies

Dear Laura,
Today was not your best day, and I'm sorry about that. I'm sorry I let my irrational fears cloud your mind during what could, and should have been, a peaceful, healing time. And I'm sorry that I continued to let it hang over you all day, overshadowing everything else that happened. I'm sorry that I got so upset with you when you couldn't seem to find the motivation to get up and do the dishes like you've said you would the past three days; I should have been more understanding about what a toll my thoughts were having on you. I'm sorry that I dug around our memories to hedge out hurtful things from our past and go over them again, unnecessarily. I'm sorry that I let you think that one bad day meant you are a terrible person, or that you could never recover from it, that you are stuck in an endless vortex of dark, swirling emotions that you will never be free of: of not believing that miracles can and will happen to you, and for you, in your everyday life. I'm sorry for, even now, holding onto to old grudges and past pains, and letting them define who you are. And most of all, I'm sorry for letting you think, for even one second of your existence, that you are somehow not good enough; that you are found wanting, and are therefore undeserving of love, friendship, happiness, and a healthy lifestyle. I promise from now on to be more understanding of your thoughts and emotions, to know the difference between "I am not capable of dealing with this right now, I need to remove myself from this situation in order to calm down, clear my mind, and refocus so I can deal with this at a later time," and "I feel horrible, why can I not deal with this right now, this must mean I can't deal with anything, I'm a horrible person and I am justified in feeling every negative emotion ever and not dealing with life ever again." I promise to spend every day looking for and focusing on the good in life, on helping others, on fulfilling your passions, and letting you vegg out and watch Clueless now and then in your pj's, no judgment. I promise to believe the best about you, to be optimistic about your future and what it holds, and to believe in you when it seems impossible to go on. And most of all, I promise to love you, unconditionally and without fail.
You are worth it. Remember that every day, and we'll be just fine :)

Out of our comfort zones speech

Life begins at the end of your comfort zone (Neale Donald Walsch)

In every story, you have the exposition, the beginning where you are introduced to the main character and their life, their family and their friends. Then, something happens, a catalyst, if you will, a problem needing to be resolved that leads to the rising action part of the story. This takes up a good portion of the story, with the stakes rising higher and higher until they reach the climax, the point of the most intensity and action for our character, where they must act quickly in order to resolve everything. Usually, our hero makes the right decision, and the immediate problem is resolved, leading to the falling action, everything that happens after the climax, right up to the resolution, where everything is sorted out, and our hero is left a bit battered, but all the wiser and happier for it.

This is the outline for every story. And every time a character goes through these steps, they are changed, whether it be for the better, or for worse, they are no longer the same person they were when they first started on their journey. The problem or problems they faced led them out of their comfort zones, and into a deeper understanding of who they are, and what they can accomplish , even in the worst of circumstances.

For many people, just hearing others stories is enough. They go to a movie theatre, or read a book, and are entertained, maybe they even think about it a bit, and then go right back to their regularly scheduled lives. There are others, however, a select few, who are simply not content to only hear of adventures and epic tales; they wish to have their own. These are the people who recognize that every great story begins with a single step. That step could be huge, like selling all of your worldly possessions to go backpacking around the world, or it could be small, like taking a different route to or from work one day and meeting someone new. These people understand the concept that Neale Donald Walsch was trying to get at: Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.

In the book The Alchemist, there is a young shepherd boy who was convinced that he had found his role in life, his great destiny. He had gone against his parents wish to become a priest to become a shepherd instead and travel. But even then, he still had a recurring dream of a far off place, and a treasure to be found. He ignored it as simply that, a dream, until one day as he was sitting reading on a wall, an old man came and sat next to him. He talked to the boy, introducing himself as a man called Melchizedek, the king of Salem, and criticizing the book the young shepherd was reading. “It’s a book that says the same thing almost all the other books in the world say. It describes people’s inability to choose their own Personal Legends. And it ends up saying that everyone believes the world’s greatest lie…that at a certain point in our lives, we lose control of what is happening to us, and our lives become controlled by fate. That is the world’s greatest lie.” He went on to tell the boy that he was there because the boy had discovered his own personal legend, and he was there to help him on his way.  “Everyone, when they are young, knows what their personal legend is. At that point in their lives, everything is clear and everything is possible…But, as time passes, a mysterious force begins to convince them that it will be impossible for them to realize their Personal Legend.”

We all have our own personal legends, our own wants and desires in this life. While some may be truly impossible, like becoming a cat or spontaneously sprouting wings and learning to fly, 99.9% of our dreams are achievable. All it takes is one small step out of your comfort zone, to step out into the world vulnerable and determined, and taking the chances as they come. No one is stopping you from getting what you want except you. Every day is a new choice; is this the day? Am I going to step out of my comfort zone and let that step guide me somewhere new? It was Eleanor Roosevelt who said “Do one thing a day that scares you.” And what scares us more as humans then stretching ourselves out of our comfort zones?

I believe that everyone on this earth can achieve their own personal legends, whether it be opening a bakery, or becoming a world-traveling reporter, or finding their true love, buying that house they’ve always wanted, achieving the perfect liquid line, or getting up the courage to ask that one special person out, they can do it. YOU can do it. As a wise king of Salem once said, “…when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.”

Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.

Celtic Party and Irish goodness

Last night, I had the absolute privilege of going to one of the best parties known to man, until the next one the host throws, that is. One of my friends, Kendra Clement, and her friend Diana (whose last name I never got, but who is an absolute joy) threw a Celtic themed party to celebrate the Summer solstice, and with it, new beginnings. They encouraged everyone to dress up as Irish peasants and to bring 5 dollars to donate and food to share. Having been to a couple of Kendra's parties before, I knew a little of what to expect. Music, food, encouragement of self-expression, laughter, and a story. And let me tell you, I wasn't disappointed. The food was excellent, everyone was dressed in varying versions of Irish peasants, as well as varying Irish accents (including my own, which sounds more Scottish than Irish, but hey, I tried). The house was decorated beautifully, with one room having twinkle lights, flowers, and a small tree, looking, for all intents and purposes, like an enchanted forest. Many were wearing crowns made with leaves, and it felt at times like being at the Renaissance Festival.
The evening started off with everyone sitting in a circle, listening to a few people play the drum, and encouraged to clap, sing, and/or dance as the mood struck us. We were all a little shy at first, but soon everyone was clapping along, and many were getting up to dance. They even brought out some ribbons for us to twirl around as we danced!
We then went into the Enchanted Forest room, which I was informed was really known as the Fairy Room, where we talked about the Summer Solstice and what it means, and new beginnings. We spoke of the importance of staying positive throughout all the changes in our lives, of being open to new experiences, and of realizing that every day is an opportunity to start anew. Three "fairies" then came flitting into the room, and gave the youngest person there (an adorable baby named Olivia) their blessings. She was blessed with color, courage, and the ability to make her life what she will. I needn't say how absolutely magical (see what I did there?) it was.
Dinner was next, a delightful buffet of shepherd's pie, 2 types of bread and dip, potato chips, cauldron cakes, watermelon, and all other sorts of deliciousness. I was worried at first that there might not be enough for everyone there, but we actually had leftovers! Everyone really stepped up their food game :)
Kendra and Diana had asked 4 people to give speeches on varying topics during dinner, and I'm very humbled to say that I was one of the lucky few. One lovely lass sang a song of her own creation on love, another used ballroom dancing as a metaphor for unity, and another encouraged us to think back to the last time we laughed so hard our stomachs hurt, and to look for the joy in life everyday. I was honored to give a speech on new beginnings and becoming the hero of your own story, which speech I will publish in a different post if you would like to read it.
Now, not to alarm anyone, but we did have a bit of a skirmish occur. Right after dinner, one of the men came running in, shouting about a band of men with masks and swords coming right towards us! The menfolk, as is only right, went off to gather their weapons and prepare to defend us, while the ladyfolk went into the front room to sing and console each other about the upcoming battle. But lo! Two masked men with swords appeared partway through our songs, and whisked away two of our ladies! Horrified, we called our menfolk, and we all marched off to battle to the beat of the drums to reclaim our stolen kin. We found them, tied up and with a sword to their throats, on top of a rock overlooking a pool of water. Bravely, our men snuck up behind the masked villains and began a battle to save our women! We all shouted and played our drums till the battle was o'er, and the masked men had fallen to their fate in the water. Unmasking them, we discovered that the masked men were no strangers to us, but were in fact our town historian and local drunkard! They quickly explained that they had become fearful that, in this time of peace in our land, heroes were no more, and had conducted this experiment to see if any would step up to the role of mighty heroes! Humbled, they asked for the ladies forgiveness, which was given on condition that the story be recorded as a lesson to be taught to future generations, and we all Huzza'd! and went on our merry way back to the festivities.
The rest of the evening was spent learning a reel, as well as a game closely resembling  Duck Duck Goose, but for adults. We also had the pleasure of having a lady present who knew how to Irish dance, and taught us a basic dance. And might I just say, Irish dancing is not as easy as it looks.
 After all that merriment, we had a sobering announcement. We learned what our money donations for the evening were really for. The money was being donated to help build homes for families in Nigeria, and not only that, but the families are given chickens, and sewing machines along with sewing lessons, to start them off in their new lives. It was a very touching and humbling moment, as we all looked around at the beautiful home we were in, with its carpet and air conditioning and sturdy walls.
The night then concluded with many a musical number from the guests. We enjoyed hearing about two cat salesmen and their woes, as well as their triumph at adopting a new cat. There was a Shakespeare ballad from Twelfth Night, original songs on the piano and guitar, covers of songs, arrangements, sing-alongs, and much enjoyment, The talent that was gathered together that night was unspeakably beautiful and unique, everyone displaying not only the wonderful talents blessed to them, but also the unique and personal way they used them. Not one act sounded like another, yet they were all equally wonderful and enjoyable, and I truly loved hearing and seeing everyone using their talents. I can never thank Kendra and Diana enough for that precious gift.
All in all, it was one of the best spent evenings of my life, and I am beyond grateful that I was invited to such a lovely event, and that everyone there was kind and willing to be open and vulnerable and silly together, even though many of us were meeting that night for the first time. If you are ever invited to a strange-seeming party by someone with the surname of Clement, I suggest you go. And I suggest you open your heart to all the wonderful experiences and people you will find there. You don't have to dress up or be musically talented in any way to enjoy it; you just have to be there, and be open to new experiences. I had a truly wonderful time, despite my offending about 5 different countries at once with my attempt at an Irish accent, and learned so much about myself and about how I believe the world should be. This is my prayer for all of you; that you are kind, that you know you are blessed with so much more than you can even comprehend right now, that you are loved, and that you are capable of anything and everything you set your heart and mind to. All it takes is one step. May the best day of your past, be the worst day of your future.
--Laura
P.S. I'll be posting the speech I gave at the party in another post, so keep an eye out for it if you'd like to give it a read!

Life plans

I work in an office at my college, and today, as I sit behind my computer, directing people to the correct rooms for their various meetings and answering phones, I can overhear a student desperately telling a teacher that, after completing pre-req's for three different areas of study, he still doesn't know what he wants to do with his life. And while this is far from uncommon to overhear when one is in any school setting, this one instance, out of all the others, has gotten me thinking...
I've been very lucky in my life to always know exactly what I wanted to do. I even remember the exact moment I came to this realization. And even though, through the years, I've told people multiple things about my plans for the future, everything from being a High-school or college English professor, to working in the publishing and/or editing world, to being a writer myself, to a therapist, a book store owner, a librarian, a music teacher, a troubled teens counselor, owning and running my own magazine, etc..., and while many of these things still appeal to me, none of them hold as much appeal or make me as happy as my chosen path.
This has been difficult for many people, including members of my family, to accept and support. I can't tell you how many times I've gotten the question "But WHY do you want to do THAT?!" or "Don't you know how low the success rate is?", and while my answer never seems to satisfy them, I remain firm in my answer: It is what makes me happiest, it is what I feel I should be doing with my life at this point in time, and I love it, more than (just about) anything.
Part of the reason I've chosen the career I have is because I have never been one to think small. I truly believe that, with a lot of hard work, faith, and perseverance, one can accomplish anything within the realms of possibility, and sometimes even beyond. I look at the examples of the people we spend our childhoods reading and hearing about, Abraham Lincoln, Marie Curie, Martin Luther King Jr, The Wright Brothers, Thomas Edison, Helen Keller, people who faced incredible odds, who had an immense amount of opposition, and still were able to accomplish something great. My mom is also one of the greatest examples I have of someone overcoming seemingly impossible odds and becoming the stronger for it, as are many moms (and dads) throughout history and today.
With all these wonderful examples I've had throughout my life to look up to, can it be any surprise that my dreams are so much bigger than seems reasonable to those who question them? And why it is so hard for me to grasp why anyone would choose a different path than the one that makes them happiest, simply because the world tells them that it can't be done, or, at least, can't be done by the likes of them?
I've been there. I've gone through long periods of doubting if I had any talents to offer the world, or if I was just a tiresome, good-for-nothing leech clamped onto its back. I've ranted to friends, I've cried, I've moaned, I've prayed, I've practiced till I couldn't see straight anymore, and I've planned my "safety nets", but all in vain. You see, besides this strange fixation with people who have succeeded, I have also been blessed (or cursed, depending on how you see it) with an extreme stubbornness that could rival pack donkeys, and a good dosage of pride that makes even the most dignified lion look like a clumsy oaf. I tend to think of my stubbornness as "determination", and my pride as "composure", but who am I kidding. It was my stubbornness and my pride that kept me from changing my major, to keep practicing and seizing every opportunity to use my talents (as now I finally see them), simply because I had told people that this was what I was meant to do, and no way was I about to let them know I was wrong. Which, it turns out so far, I'm not. Not that I have any delusions of not changing my mind at any point in the future. In fact, I reserve the right to change my mind about any and every aspect of my life (aside from my belief in God) at any time I so please.
So, when I overhear someone saying that they don't know what they want to do with their lives, it makes me happy, once again, to have been blessed with knowing from a very young age what I wanted to do with my life, and to have it verified for me time and time again. Please understand, I'm not trying to brag, I'm trying to express my gratitude. Because who wouldn't be grateful to know where their life is going?