All or Nothing

Second semester of college I didnt want to be there anymore, I just felt like I was going through the motions. But then I got my class schedule and found that I had two classes that I actually was excited about. The first was studio art and the other was a photography/marketing class.

I loved both the classes all semester, I used them as my outlet, I would literally go straight from class and start my homework and spend hours working on it, my rommate can atest to that. I made it through the semester with good grades in both classes, but that wasnt enough, the final was quickly approaching.

Im going to focus on the photography final. The final was a five or six picture story, a controversial topic. I knew what I wanted, obviously I know a controversal topic, I was living one, but I didnt know if that was the right thing to do.

In the end, I decided to go in, all or nothing, kind of like this blog. I wasnt going to sugar coat it, I was going to be honest about self harm. I decided to use To Write Love on Her Arms as an inspiration. This project was probably the most fun that I had all year, I had my whole dorm floor of girls helping me out with my photos and being my models, such a strong topic brought us all together and caused a ton of laughter.

I felt safe turning in my photos because of two people, Joe and Katrina Stark. They were the professors and they made me, and im sure everyone else in the class, so comfortable. They were encouraging and it helped tha they liked my photos each week already. Without the Starks I dont think that I would have ever considered taking those photos, being brave enough to step out there, put it all on the line.

Im quite thankful for those two. They taught me a lot and it wasnt just about taking photos. I wouldnt have made it through the semester with without their class, without them.


Check out those pictures at this link: Photo Final

Coping: Writing

Tonight I dont want to fight anymore
I keep imagining the blade
But it isnt normally like this
This time I picture it going straight into the vein
Instead of cutting to feel the pain
I want to stop the pain
I dont want to feel this way anymore
I want to end all the hurt.
I look in the mirror.
It isnt me anymore.
I cant find my face in the reflection
It is just enternal emptiness.
I hate who Ive become
Itd be so easy to quit now.
Oh does that blade call to me.
I cant move.
I know Ill find the blade.
Lord, give me strength
to get past this
to make it to tomorrow.
Not for me,
For everyone who supposedly cares about me.
Help me fight the evil thoughts
even if I dont want to.
Do it for the people who would be hurt.
I hate myself for this.
This feeling.
I. am. broken.

In the beginning of senior year I got myself a journal to write in, mostly because its the only compromise I could make with someone I confided in to not tell my parents everything. I hated writing. I could never get my thoughts clear enough to make any sense on the page, but after I convinced myself it didnt really have to make any sense, I got the hang of it. Me and my friends, who knew about the journal, referred to the book, which was a cheerful 8" by 10" bright green book, as the Book of Darkness. The journal had all my jumbled angry, upset, sad thoughts. It even had a few happy ones. By the end of freshman year in college I had written over 350 pages in that book, thinking it was stupid the entire way, yet somehow I kept going. Obviously it isnt a book I would ever want anyone to read, but it helped me. Writing what you feel, or trying, helps to just put it out there. Release it from your head a bit, makes things easier.

The 'poem' from above was from the Book of Darkness. I didnt know what I was feeling so I set out to just allow the pen to write what it wanted. That was the result, just one of the many confused, uncertain entries.

Take the time to write down what you feel, prayers, thoughts, letters, anything, write it down and see what results.

This Week

I obviously dont think that I am healed or anything like that, however I would probably say that I am working my way up. I still have my bad days, weeks. This week has been one of those total down weeks.

When I was working with my psychiatrist in Fairfax, we discovered that my bipolar highs are anger and my lows are depression. That being said, if I am not right in the middle it is a little difficult to get through a normal day.

I would say at the moment I am at a high, complete rage. I get so anxious and frustrated because I dont have any reason but there is so much anger just bubbling inside me, it takes me over. I also know that it is frustrating for the people around me. My family typically thinks I am a bitch, but when I am on a high they think I am a complete raging bitch. It isnt something I can really help, but I do hold it back as much as possible. I also dont tell them that I am on a high because, really, what kind of excuse is that?! If they dont understand then it is a crap excuse. This whole bipolar thing isnt quite black and white, its more everything in between, it isnt just happy or sad, its like euphoric and raging, it is different for everyone.

When you arent going through something like this you cant fully understand it...I bet thats frustrating for you who want to.
This week, being an angry high, it has caused more anxiety and panic which leads to urges. I have almost messed up a couple times this week and turned to the blade, but I know that I would be so livid at myself if I did. I try so hard to hold on to the happy moments instead of the dark thoughts when I am so low, its hard, but I do have people in my life who help me remember.

Hitting a little baby rough patch, I pray to God that I have strength to get through it.

Coping: Walking

One of the big coping skills for me is walking, however I suppose that any form of exercise will do just as well.

I started walking because I would start to feel antsy sitting still. Then I started to walk to clear my mind, try to get rid of the bad thoughts, no matter how long and far I had to walk. Sometimes I would just want to run, run away, run from myself, run until I dissappeared, but obviously none of that ever happened. I hated myself and hoped that if I walked fast enough that I could get right out of my skin and not be me anymore. I do know that that sounds crazy, but I wanted it so badly.

When I went to college my walking habits changed drastically. Great Falls wasnt a huge place so it was easy to walk for a long time in one direction, so thats what I did. Nearly every single day, after dinner, I would go walk. These walks werent small though, I calculated it on mapqwest (yeah I am nerdy) and I came to realize I walked nearly four miles each day. I loved that, I could get away, just me and my music, time to think and sometimes even to run from the urges, sometimes I would be gone for hours.There were some times, but hardly ever, that I used the walks to get away to harm. I am not so proud of those moments, but I cant erase them now.

It didnt matter the weather, I walked in six inches plus of snow, complete ice, rain, negative fifteen degrees outside, nothing could stop me. Id even say the pain that the cold brought to my skin and my lungs helped me, I guess its a little bit of a healthier pain.

Now I like to walk on occation, nothing like I used to, but its something about walking until your body aches that makes you feel good and refreshed.

I encourage you readers to take even just an hour out of your day and do something active, clear your head, your mind and body will feel so much better. When those bad thoughts start floating into your head, stop them before they get so completely unbearable you cant get away, take a walk.

Coping: Staying Busy

Dear readers, I apologize for my absence from Just a Thought, I have spent the last week trying to figure out where I would like to go next, what you would like to hear. I decided since its such a big thing for the psych ward, psychiatrists, therapists, and generally everyone who knows my situation, that I would talk to you about coping skills, my coping skills to be exact.

While in the psych ward they made us write lists of what we would do if tempted to self harm. It got completely repetitive, and obviously mine never changed, but nonetheless the lists of alternative coping skills was pounded into our heads, in a positive, helpful way.

One of the big things is to stay busy. I guess if you're in motion and have a lot to do then you don't give your brain enough time to think about all the negative thoughts that inevitably cause you to want to harm.

That sounded all fine and dandy, but when I get busy I start to panic, will I be late, will there be a ton of people there, will I break down and cry mid busy, will I get that one moment where I can sneak off and pull out the razor that felt so safe in my bag, just waiting for me.

I think that right now I have gotten things kind of balanced out, but I still try to stay away from crowds as much as possible.

Mondays through Fridays I works with Evan, a low functioning thirteen year old autistic boy who I love. If anywhere in my life, working with him makes me feel important, like I am making an impact in this dumb world. Anyways, everyday after I leave Evan's I have something I need to go straight to, Mondays are small group, Tuesdays are young adult church service, Wednesday is working at the church with young kids, and Thursday is coaching basketball practice with my first and second graders, Fridays are free, Saturdays I spend my entire day at the church for numerous basketball games, and Sunday I just have church.

Obviously rushing one to the next makes me panic a bit, but when I get there I am just glad I made it. The key is to just let yourself be busy, let yourself not be stuck alone thinking bad thoughts and wanting to hurt yourself, being alone is the worst in those situations.

I encourage any readers to find something that keeps them busy, even once a week. Sometimes that one thing can be that one thing that makes your week, brings that surprise smile to your face, make you feel built up for awhile. Just find something.

Medication

To get better you have to have the right meds.

...I hate that.

I have felt like a guinea pig since the get-go. They just try new meds all the time and hope they dont make you kill yourself. For me they may have messed up in the beginning, hence the psych ward. No, I am not fully blaming anything on the pills, but they are a huge factor, one that just pushed me over the edge.

Since March I would say Ive been on nine, or so, different medications, for depression, sleep, anxiety, and bipolar disorder. I have hated it since the beginning. I have never in my life liked pills, I mean more hated them, up until the pills I take now I refused to take even a headache pill.

Its a rough thought for me now even, I hate it still, but those professionals tell me I have to and I obey. I take nine pills every night, on the bright side I have gotten pretty good at taking several pills at a time, not just one at a time, that would probably take forever at this point.

The reason I bring this up is because I saw my psychiatrist last week, Marty, and I told him I havent been sleeping and my brain is scrambled and im anxious like crazy and yet he leaves my meds as is. I dont know what I expect, definitely not a magic pill, but sometimes I doubt that I have clue what they are doing. I guess maybe its because I am impatient or maybe its because Im just too tired to keep going and need them to figure it out.

Keep testing all the meds as if I am a guinea pig, your personal little experiment.

Whats Next?

I was watching a television show the other day and someone asked "what comes next? What comes after all of this?"

I found myself asking the same question, what comes next. I suppose first I need to figure out what "healthy" is.

What happens when you heal and are healthy and things are good? What do you do when that urge you have been dying to get rid of is gone, when you actually want to be alive, when depression isnt controlling your life.

I dont think I know how to live without it. Its been so long, its controlled me for so long.