"The best performance of your life. Walking through day after day knowing that you've got something deep down that's so disturbing, you don't know how to describe it and you don't know how to ask for help. So, you give the best performance of your life. And then you go home and cry. Your soul can't take the pain anymore and your heart is so heavy. The life you've always dreamed of seems so far out of reach. You feel worthless and you can't even fathom feeling worthy again. Your brain is irrational and your grasp on reality is unclear. But still, you give the best performance of your life. You look fine. You might even look good. But the war going on inside of you is merely masked, not reconciled. You can't ask for help. How would you? So, you give the best performance of your life. And then, you fall. You risk everything to ask for help, but help mocks you. So, you spend hours lying on the bathroom floor, not knowing when the pain will end...to feel nothing would be better than feeling THIS. You don't sleep or eat or move. You breathe. And wonder. How can you stop giving the best performance of your life?"
This is a journal entry from one of my darkest times. About an hour after this was written, I consumed 35, 50mg tablets of Vistaril. I should have died. I did the research. My heart should have stopped within about 10 minutes of consumption. Everything was supposed to end. But I didn't account for one thing...a really good college suitemate. She saved my life. She called EMS and my counselor and got people involved. She was my advocate. In the hospital, my doctors were my advocate. When I left the hospital, my "mom" was my advocate. Carissa acted really angry with me as soon as she found out. I know, looking back on the situation, she wasn't mad. She was worried. She didn't know what to say, but she had to say something. So, she was angry: "Why didn't you call me? I would've driven to Columbia. You have to tell me! I can't just know from 200 miles away what's going on in your life!" What she meant was, I love you and I'm glad you're okay...but please let me be there for you next time. She was my advocate.
When I moved back to Burlington, I had a team of advocates and they were all healthy for me in different ways. I had Carissa- my dose of reality. A hard ass when she needs to be and a loving hug or should to cry on when she doesn't. I had Jordan- my wife and my rock. I can share my pain with her when I can't handle it. Someone to help carry the load. I had Emily- my counselor and my point of view. I can share my darkest thoughts with her and she sheds light on situations and gives me the tools to work through them. I had Bekka Woods- she just understands. Always. I had Lachelle and Jessica- my professional development team at Aveda...who kept me in school and gave my life depth and purpose. They made me feel like I could and (more importantly) DESERVED to be successful. I had friends and family that held my hand and helped me work through day to day issues. They know my triggers and my signals and they keep an eye out for me.
Now, being in Hickory, I have more independence, but in the same token, I have more support. I still have everyone from Burlington behind me. I still have everyone from Columbia behind me. I have a new group of people who love and care for me too though. I've met new friends and have new interests, but I still have the team of people that raised me up in my darkest hours. I also have a new found sense of self-sustainability. I can take care of me...and I do a good job of it. I don't feel bad very often. In fact, I'm probably the happiest I've ever been. I still have bad days and bad things still happen. I even have small bouts with depression. And not every task is easy. But I can take it day by day and I have the best team behind me when I feel like I can't do it anymore. I know who I am and where I've come from. I also know that I'm not all that I'm ever going to be. There are trials to come. But there are joys to come. And I can see both, clearly.
I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for my advocates. Medications and therapy are all great tools, but having someone there when those things fail are something that all mental health patients should have prepared. Acknowledge that you can't handle some things. Acknowledge that you aren't strong enough to deal...yet! Know that you have the tools and you're preparing to fight, but don't leave your army behind! Would you go to war alone? Take your gun, take your shield...but don't forget your backup. Call in your reinforcements.
Today, I want to thank the support that I have in my life. I want to thank the kind words and soft hearts. I also want to thank the people that pushed me, when I thought I couldn't go further. I want to thank the people who asked for help FOR me...because they knew I wouldn't. I want to thank the people that have kept me alive. And I want to thank the people that allow me to share my stories.
"As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them." -JFK
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