I've never understood the reason behind blogging. I am a huge journal writer and never understood the concept of posting something so personal for everyone to read. For one, my journal is where I write all my emotions that I don't want everyone, or anyone for that matter, knowing. Yet, here I am, creating a blog and trying this out. My purpose in writing today and trying this whole blogging thing out isn't because I want everyone knowing what I'm going through or because I think I am such a great writer, heck, my boyfriend tells me that my writing is so simple (which he says is a compliment). I am one that just rambles if you can't tell. I don't write rough drafts for my journal, I write from the heart, I don't try to make it sound poetic, or fancy. There are scribble marks all over my journal. I wish in fact that with this, there was no backspace, there was only a scribble out. Cause that's how life is. There is no erase button. You can scribble it out as many times as you want, but that mark will forever be there. In times when you really don't want it there it stares you in the face as an everyday reminder that you made a mistake. But once you get passed it, it's an everyday reminder that you overcame a challenge in life, and you are now stronger because of it.
I used to think that bloggers were a little on the narcissistic side. I use facebook, although I don't post status' much about myself, I don't like being center of attention. It's never been my thing. BUT, my sister in-law is an amazing blogger and it's so amazing to see how she's turned it not only about her. But about so many people that she loves. Coming from such a big family it's amazing to be able to jump on and see how everyone is doing whenever I have time. You can make it not narcissistic.
Here I go rambling again. In all honesty, I don't know what my plan with blogging is. I don't expect anyone to read this at all. It's just another place for me to ramble. When I write, it helps me figure out my thoughts, so this might do nothing for someone who stumbles upon this, and I'm sorry if you are still reading this, but it helps me sort out my many thoughts that I get lost in. So here it goes.
I suffer from depression. I have for a big portion of my life. Going a few years without anyone knowing what my problem was, just a "hard teenager" a lot thought, but it wasn't all that, even though I was definitely the hardest teenager in my family by far! I made some decisions that lead to it becoming worse, but teenage life is hard enough with being lost and feeling like your outfit that day is the most important decision you will be making in your entire life. Not to mention if your parents don't let you show up at the HUGE party going on, your life will be ruined! and everyone is out to get you. Those things are already hard enough, add on top of that the feeling of being completely lost in your own skin, knowing you aren't being yourself and pushing everyone that actually cares about you away. I finally asked for help after a lot of different events and heart break to everyone that loves me leading up to that. I was officially diagnosed with Depression and Anxiety my sophomore year of high school. The "happy pills" helped a little yes, but I needed more help. With much more heartache, my parents and I came to the conclusion that I needed more help than was offered at home. I willingly went to the college preparatory/Therapeutic boarding school, The Oakley School, in Oakley Utah. It was the best decision I have ever made. Yes it was hard, but it helped me become me again. I was there for a year and a half. I went in December 7th, 2006. There were so many good memories and so many hard memories. But I met some truly amazing people, people that I can go a year without talking to and pick up with them exactly where we left off without any awkwardness. Life long friends.
Not only those life long friends... but my life long friends that I have met along this journey, I have made so many amazing friends that have stuck with me through the hard times as well as the great times. I would write them all out, but it would take too long. They know who they are though.
I have had my ups and down since then. I failed and medically withdrew out of my first semester of college and moved back home because of depression and a cyst rupture.
For most of my life I have been embarrassed by my depression. There have been so many times I have laid there crying for hours wishing and praying that I could have something else, such as cancer, that someone would actually understand without having to experience. Have tubes coming out of me and people realize it's a real thing. Depression, no one understands without truly going through it.
I have been doing really well with my depression so far. I have had some down falls, but I have always gotten back up. I haven't given up yet. But I know for a fact that I couldn't have gotten to where I am now if it weren't for my family. My mom has been my biggest support. From my giving up moments when I sit and say I can't do it, and she still believes in me, to me having way too high of dreams and she still believes in me ( while bringing me back to reality a little bit.) :) And dealing with my 3:00 A.M. phone calls of crying and her not saying a word, until I calm down and tell her she can go back to sleep. My dad being the sweet man he is that doesn't understand at all, but tries so hard to because he knows of my potential and will do anything to help me reach it. To every sibling and in-law and niece and nephew that has helped me through so many hard times. And my best friend in the world, Brock Muir, that has overcome so much, that he gives me the strength to do hard things. That deals with my mood swings and is always so level headed while I'm such a mental case.
The passed month and a half or so has been rough. Our insurance decided they wanted to be a pain like most insurances are and they decided to stop paying for my anti-depressant that actually worked. So, thinking I am invincible, (this is one of those moments my mom stepped in and tried to bring me back to reality) I thought I could deal with switching to a med that the insurance would cover. So... I switched. I was strong enough for the switch, but not strong enough for the med to work incorrectly. I fell. I fell hard. My grades started slipping, I couldn't make it up for classes. I had no energy. I slipped quickly. I hid it for a good while, I still was making it to most of my classes, and I didn't really talk to my professors and anyone about it, because as long as everyone thought I was doing okay, I was okay.
Tuesday's are my "Hell day" at school. I have class starting at 7 A.M. and I have class until 3:30 P.M. So if I don't sleep, I struggle that day. I was trying to go to bed at around 11 that night, I was up all night. I finally called my mom in tears at 3:00 A.M. Utah time (Being 5:00 A.M. Virginia time) saying I had 2 tests that day and I hadn't been able to sleep. I'm not doing okay, what do I do?! Etc. She just listened while I cried and cried, until I calmed down and told her to go back to bed. I took my two tests and got everything done I needed to. My parents decided it was best to bring me home for Spring Break. Not only for medical stuff, but Brock's farewell :) It was such a mixed emotions week. Doctor appointment after doctor appointment, after MRI, with results coming back with the answer I despise the most, "good news is... the results came out negative!" I would rather hear that I have 6 months left to live, than live my life feeling like I'm crazy and having no answers. I got to spend time with Brock which was amazing, his farewell was so wonderful.
Leaving the next day and seeing his face for the last time for 2 years was definitely not helpful to my conditions going on. I came home and I have made it to one class, which was a midterm, which happened to be at 2:30 in the afternoon. I have hardly gotten out of bed, I have been trying to do things to get me out and to get ready and out of this funk... but it's not that easy.
I was put on a new medication and I have been very consistent with it. I hope it kicks in soon. I have been looking at my options, do I medically withdraw right now and just go home??? That seems like the best option, I prayed about it to know what to do. We get answers in the weirdest way.
My best friend and roommate Lauren Denhalter has been an awesome support with all this. It breaks her heart seeing me like this and I know that. She talked to some of our professors about what is going on, and she talked to me about it today, she gave me some insight that I really needed to hear. But before I get to that. With how this has all been going, I have felt so alone. I have been feeling like, why stay here, I have been here for a long time and I still hardly know anybody. I don't have energy to get out and have a college experience, I don't know many people, and I don't have energy to play soccer. At least going home I would have my family. Honestly I do feel alone, yes, I know some people and I do have people that care about me here, it's the depression talking. I will always feel alone in this until I get back on my feet. It's a disease that not many understand, and it's impossible to understand until you truly go through it.
Today I was taking Lauren to work when she told me it's not too late. She and I are very similar. We take the easy way out. But sometimes the easy way out is more detrimental then the hard way out and we have to live with those for the rest of our lives. She told me to talk to my professors, it's not too late right now, and finish out the semester. Even if it's with failing grades, or even barely passing grades, at least I finished it out instead of walking away. I've been thinking that a lot lately. I needed to finish it out, but it was easier to just say bring me home. With her support and everyone else's support and understanding, I am going to finish out this semester. I don't expect anything from my professors, I expect myself to push through this like I have pushed through it so many other times. I just need that kick in the butt to remind me that I am strong enough, that I can do this, and although the devilish disease can sit an make me believe that I am alone, I have never once been alone in my life. I have my eternal family that has always been there for me, my great friends, and boyfriend, but most of all, the Savior who sacrificed everything and has felt every ounce of every persons pain. He has been through this. God doesn't give us trials we can't overcome. So as much as I hate to go through this, he knows my potential and he knows I can do great things with the strength I gain from coming out of such a trial. When I start feeling like I am over coming it and forgetting where I get my strength, I get a humbling experience he puts me through to realize I am nothing without him and his help. He's definitely got a sense of humor :) And He's always here to put us back in our place.
