The Magician, The Enemy & The Warrior

My mind is a magician, a wizard if you will. But not the kind like Harry Potter, if that were the case then perhaps I would enjoy the curses I have been afflicted with. My mind is well versed in tricks and spells alike, it has no problem keeping me up at night. 

My thoughts are my enemies, they pit me against myself and seem to enjoy watching the chaos that ensues. My thoughts are not always my choosing, sometimes I wish I could just turn them off. 

My body is a warrior, and sometimes it feels like I am fighting a losing battle. I take up proverbial swords and weapons, trying to ward off the thoughts that my mind conjures up; but to what avail? Because, even when I successfully fight off these thoughts, they always manage to come back again. 

I was first diagnosed with depression at the age of fifteen, generalized anxiety at seventeen and developed an eating disorder at nineteen. This is what my life has felt like since then. I feel that I am constantly afraid of the things my mind can do to me, the thoughts it can produce and the horrors it can wreak on my body and my life. Living with multiple mental illnesses is a daily struggle, and I wish I could say that I’ve come up with all the answers, but I have not. I am learning things about myself day by day, and I am hoping that these sometimes small lessons are enough to continue fighting my battle.

My mind is skilled at casting spells and controlling the thoughts that flood it. There are days when my mind is the scariest place on earth, so I sleep to avoid confronting it. I am never sure of what version of myself is going to wake up; this is a fear that is so paralyzing that staying in bed all day out of fear has at times become the easier option.

My body tries to fight against my mind and thoughts. There are days where this fight seems totally doable; like I am Harry Potter, I am the chosen one and I can take on anything life throws my way. But there are also days where the fight seems like I am a single feather in the direct path of a tornado; a fight that is over before it starts. On these days my body feels like a shell of which the contents are completely detached.

Everything is impossible to explain, so I don’t even try to understand. Nothing seems reparable, so my toolbox collects dust.
On these days, I feel like a stranger to myself.
On the good days, I know and understand every last bit of myself.
On the good days, I am Harry Potter. On the good days, I win.
On the good days, I fight hard enough to accept the bad days where
even the idea of fighting is too much.
I have accept that my life is about give, and take.
I have accepted that there are times that the hand I have
been dealt seems like it is the worst possible hand.
But I have learned to make daring plays,
I have learned to cast counter spells,
I have learned to combat my enemies,
and I have learned that this battle is mine to win. 

 

Where is the Light on Men’s Mental Health?

“Be a man.”
“Men don’t cry.”
“Men are strong.”
“A man does what he must- in spite of personal consequences.”

Why do we tell men that feelings are these awful things and that crying is bad? Why do we teach young boys to shut their feelings out and ignore them in the spirit of “being a man”? We live in a world that values braun and bravery over sensitivity and emotional intelligence and it is an extremely harmful way of thinking.

The world has made great strides with regards to the conversations surrounding mental health, but I believe that there is still a long way to go, especially when it comes to men’s mental health. We have come a long way in terms of our thinking surrounding mental health, it is not always looked at as a weakness or something made up. But there are still some really negative thoughts and voices out there in the world.

Something I have noticed is the drastic differences in the ways women’s and men’s mental health are looked at. Women are typically seen as fragile, or delicate (I don’t agree with this but that’s for another time and place), and it’s almost like these stereotypes make it easier for people to hear about women living with mental illnesses.  Men are typically seen as strong, brave, and without emotions. They grow up being told to “be a man” and that “men don’t cry.” What kind of people does this breed? This teaches young men that their feelings and emotions are things to push away and that they are bad. This teaches young men that they have nowhere to go to ask for help if they need it because they will be seen as weak, or scared. It’s stereotypes like these that seem to make it difficult for people to understand that men can and do struggle with mental illnesses.

Why do we send children into the world thinking that they will be looked down upon or seen as less than for reaching out for help? Why do we do this and then wonder why they encounter problems?

This is something that I struggle to grasp. Mental illness does not discriminate when it comes to the people it affects, men and women can and do both suffer from all mental illnesses- and we know this. We have been shown the statistics, and we have heard people speak out. So why do we continue to perpetuate stereotypes that encourage men to hide their problems in secret?

In recent years, there has been an onslaught of women of notoriety coming forward with their stories of living with mental illness. While there have been a few men of similar statuses to share their own stories, there seems to be a far smaller amount. Where is the voice for men’s mental health? Where is the voice telling men that feelings are okay and that it’s okay to cry or ask for help? Where is the voice telling them that those stereotypes, and those moulds they were told to fit into are wrong? Where is the voice telling them that their feelings are valid and that they are just as worthy of support as anyone else and that if they reach out for support it doesn’t make them less of a man?

I don’t know where the voice is that can give us an updated definition of a man, but for the world’s sake, I hope we find it soon.

Low is Low

Have you ever thought about the negative thought processes you engage in?
I have, and what I’ve discovered about myself was pretty saddening. 

About three or four months ago, my depression and anxiety had become simply unmanageable. My bedroom was filthy, I was washing my hair maybe once every two weeks, I was only leaving my apartment to go to work (which was limited since my hours had been cut), I was isolating myself from people and things that I loved, I was spending full days in my bed… But at the time, I could not see that I had hit my version of rock bottom.

Let me tell you why.

The thing about humans is that we are all extremely unique beings. We experience things differently, have different ways of internalizing life events, and all around we simply process things differently from one person to the next. When we consider these differences, it seems logical to understand that each of us, as individuals has different versions of what low points of our lives look like.

I think that the work I do had a hand in the negative thought processes I began engaging in at this time. At the time when my mental health was rapidly declining, I was working as a Social Recreation Worker at a community mental health organization. When I take that into account, I can understand that I was seeing people who were some of the most marginalized and vulnerable people in my city. I saw people who I was working with, and saw that they were struggling and I began to engage in thought processes such as:

“I’m not that sick. Other people have it so much worse than I do.”
“I don’t deserve to get help, other people need it more.”

I have since reflected on these thoughts and I have been able to realize just how detrimental they were. These thoughts had a huge hand in why I was super reluctant to reach out for support that I desperately needed. I viewed myself as a helper and was of the belief that I should have been able to handle things on my own. How could I be providing support and assistance to other people when I couldn’t even figure out how to support and assist myself?

What I have finally come to accept and acknowledge, is that as humans are all unique in the ways we process, experience and internalize things, we all have different versions of high and low points in our own lives. What might be difficult for my best friend, might not be difficult for me, and by the same token something that completely debilitates me might be something easy to handle for my best friend.

I realize now that three months ago I had hit the lowest point of my life, and for me that became my rock bottom. It didn’t matter that other people also had struggles, what matters is that for me, I was experiencing the hardest point of my life thus far. I was experiencing the lowest point of my life. I was not experiencing the same things that people around me were experiencing and the fact that I was trying to compare my struggles with those of others, was in fact me invalidating my own experiences. I was subconsciously saying to myself that my struggles weren’t valid and that they were not hard enough to warrant me worrying about them or seeking help.

If you find yourself struggling, focus on your struggles, your experiences and how you are processing these things. Please remember that the struggles and experiences of others have no bearing on you and yours. The things that are hard for you are just that, hard for you. The fact that you are struggling is completely separate from how other people experience and process struggles. Please remember that your experiences are valid and if you feel like you are slipping into your version of low, that you are worth reaching out for help and support.

A struggle is a struggle.
We may all experience low points differently,
but conquering them can give a universal high.

You Two

I heard
words and
never had
bruises or
black eyes. 

But why
should that
make my
suffering any
less valid?

My wounds
were beneath
my surface
but they
were still
painful and
true and
sadly real. 

Words hurt
because memories
never fade
the way
bruises do.

I am Her

She has a fire
in her eyes
and a sparkle
in her soul.

She is everything
all at once
and can fade to
nothing when she chooses.

She is full of
feeling so deep
that she often
drowns in them.

She is consumed
by the tears
that spill out of her
confusion filled brain.

She has a heart
so big that it
spills open
to those she cares for.

She can give love
as plentiful as salt
in the ocean, but her
thirst is forever unquenched.

She has the
spirit of a saint,
and the mind
of a tyrant.

She is me. 

Intention Manifesto

I want simple things, and I will bring them to me.

I will be happy in my life.
I will be happy in my skin.
I will love myself with every fibre of my capable being. 
I will first direct my love inward instead of pouring it out.
I will accept my past as part of my history, and allow myself to 
move forward.
I will love my mind as it is, flaws and all.
I will treasure my memories and learn from my mistakes.
I will forgive myself.
I will listen to myself first.
I will honour my scars as the war medals they are.
I will be forthcoming about my feelings.
I will put my needs first.
I will take the time to sort through my thoughts.
I will say no when I want to.
I will say yes when I want to.
I will be authentically and unapologetically me.
I will nourish my mind, body and soul as I see fit.

I will.
I will.
I will.
Because I am worthy.

Surface Wounds

I sat in waiting
rooms full of
girls who looked
nothing like me. We
had the same problems,
but I did not look
sick like they did.
They saw it too,
the shrinks and the
doctors. They saw
me and could not
see why I was
there.

They did not put
the other girls
on the scales right
away, they were
too fragile. The
numbers made
me cry and they
broke my soul
but they made me
see it every week. I
could tell by the looks
they gave and by
the questions they
asked. They could not
see bones protruding
from my skin, or
hear me gasping for
breath like the other
girls. They did not
see the tears I shed
every morning when I
got dressed, or hear
the cruel words I spoke
to my body, and so they
did not believe I
was sick.

Until I met Anita. She
could see and understand
that shallow breaths
and protruding bones
did not an illness
make. She understood
that my wounds were not
as visible as the other
girls, but that my sickness
was just as real and
that understanding
saved my life.

Your Reality is Real

If all you did today was wake up, I am proud of you.
If you brushed your teeth for the first time in days today, I am proud of you.
If you took a shower and then crawled back into bed for the rest of the day, I am proud of you.
If you ate three meals today and were scared of each one, I am proud of you.
If you resisted urges today, I am proud of you.
If today all you did was show up to work and barely did your job, I am proud of you.
If your mind was full of worries today and you made it through the day anyways, I am proud of you.
If your day had the potential to be great but your pain got in the way, I send you love.
If memories of the past were infiltrating your mind today, I send you love and hope for closure.
If your day was foggy because you got two hours of sleep but your pushed through, I commend you.
If you cried today and didn’t know why, I feel for you and I know the frustration that comes with inexplicable emotions.
If today you had plans that you had to cancel and you feel like you let someone down, I forgive you.
If today is the worst you have ever felt, I remind you that tomorrow cannot possibly be worse.
If dark days have turned into dark weeks to dark months, I am here to tell you that there is always a possibility of light.
If the thought of living another day seems like too much, I implore you to believe that something will eventually be worth it.
If today, you felt that no one was in your corner and you felt alone, I remind you (and always will) that you are not and never will be alone.

Love Letter to Myself

Dear You,

I know that you have become a master of the “smile and nod” and at polite humility when receiving compliments. I know that you told yourself years ago you would never be good enough and that it wouldn’t matter how hard you tried but today I am here to tell you you’re wrong. I am here to tell you that compliments given to you can in fact be sincere and genuine. I am here to tell you that you are smart, that you are beautiful, that you are kind, caring, empathetic, and funny. I am here to tell you that putting things in the past is okay to do; it does not mean that you are pretending things never happened but it means that you are giving yourself the freedom to move on from them. I am here to tell you that you are wanted and that you are needed by so many people. You are loved beyond what you ever thought possible. I am here to tell you to stop selling yourself short because you never should have learned how to do it so well. I am here to tell you that the things you have been through and the things you have felt are valid. I am here to tell you that they made you this amazing, sufficient and valued person. I am here to tell you that you may not be in love with yourself yet, but you have made leaps and bounds from the girl you once were and I know that one day soon you will love yourself more than anyone else in the world. I am here to tell you that when you get to that place to embrace it and remember that not only is it okay to love yourself, but it is good. When you finally learn to fully love yourself, regardless of what others say, think or do, and regardless of your size, shape, job status or title you will realize that you never needed this letter because you had the power inside of you all along just waiting to be brought out. I am here to remind you that you are so much more than the places you have been, the mistakes you have made, and the demons you have fought. You are so much more than the sum of your past. You are who you are because of those things, but you have gone places you never thought you could, and that proves moreover just how little you are defined by your past. I am here to tell you that you are worthy of the love and kindness that you so readily give out to others. I am here to tell you to stop smiling and nodding and being politely humble, because you deserve so much more than that.

Sincerely,
You.

Alternate Reality

She tries so hard
to be shiny and new;
but how can she be
when everyone tells her
she is broken and bruised?