Category: The Blog

Sad with SAD? Huh?

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I’ve been trying to write this one for a while. I’m not kidding, I have about 6 drafts of this thing half written that I’ve like kind of scrapped but that I like some parts of… which is honestly kind of on brand for the topic, I guess.

Let me first start off by saying that I’m a hypochondriac. If any of you bitches start using that against me though, I’ll never say it again. I get a sore throat & I instantly think I have strep kinda thing. You get it. But there’s a difference between swearing on all things holy that your foot when you stubbed your toe and feeling like your hitting rock bottom again… for the millionth time… every year around the same time.

When I was first diagnosed with major clinical depression, my psychiatrist called it “Stage 3”. (Listen, I still don’t have any sort of degree yet, nor have I ever studied an ounce of medicine… so a Google search might make more sense out of this, BUT) how I understand it is Stage 1 your normal behavior starts to change aka isolation, more sleeping, appetite, etc. People around may or may not notice it. Stage 2 you might feel physical symptoms like aches and pains, exhaustion, headaches, upset stomachs, physical illness as a result of the lack of regular behavior your body has been used to. Stage 3, your body is kind of like “Ok, I can’t do this anymore so I’m going to sleep 18 hours a day” or you’re having a lot of depressive episodes, suicidal thoughts, etc. Again, this was explained to me at like 16 years old & I’m not a doctor so if anything at all these are the hypothetical stages that I went through. Okay? Don’t cite me as a scholarly source.

I struggled for a long time with episodes and the rollercoaster of depression. I’d have little increments where I didn’t need any thing from anyone – which included my meds and my therapist. Foreshadowing: it was a bad idea. I had really bad moments where I wondered why I was even taking medicine in the first place if I was still feeling shitty enough to cry myself to sleep in my college dorm every night.

I started to see this HUGE change in the winter. I mean, don’t get me wrong. Attendance has been an issue since the first diagnosis days… but this was different. I wasn’t skipping my 8:00am high school geometry class… I was skipping a class at 2:00pm. That I was paying $15,000 a semester to live and learn here… and sitting in a shitty dorm room because the thought of doing anything besides laying awake in my twin bed made my heart pound. I was awake. I was healthy. I could read. I could write. I could physically get there, but it’s like something was holding me in that bed and I didn’t really get it.

Above you’ll see an 18 year old Emily who was coming home from college every weekend to avoid interaction with literally anyone

When my therapist brought up seasonal affective disorder, I actually got pissed. As far as I knew, that was what people who didn’t really understand depression said that they had when weather started to get cold. As far as 18 year old Emily knew, that was a slap in the face for all of us that suffer all year long… summer, fall, winter, and spring. Didn’t she understand that I was depressed, I didn’t just have seasonal affective disorder? AND I had been deny the fact that anything was wrong for so long, here I was calling for help to get was I felt was a bullshit diagnosis thrown back in my face.

So, we started talking about my specific symptoms (some of which, honestly, I still struggle with today, guys):

  • I sleep 12 hours a day and I’m still exhausted
  • I don’t want to see anyone. It’s exhausting.
  • Showering seems like a lot of work.
  • Some days I don’t really eat.
  • Other days, I can’t stop eating…it makes me feel better.
  • Last night, I stayed up till 6 crying…. just crying.
  • I have increased depressive episodes
  • I’m extremely irritable in situations I wouldn’t be.
  • I lack empathy or interest in daily activities.

I was on anti-depressants. I was doing the coping mechanisms we were working on. But I felt like I was being sucked backward after huge strides forward I had made with managing my mental health. At that point, my friends, I didn’t understand seasonal affective disorder. She had to drop the bomb that I had just upped my mental illness chart another diagnoses AND another 20 mg of Fluoxetine.

Every single year, the winter months knock me on my ass. You can tell that my family has gotten used to me needing a little more love and patience this time of year, because my family group chat is much more active, despite my inability to hold a texting conversation. Guys, I mean I couldn’t even write a damn blog about seasonal affective disorder because it’s been such a bitch to me! But, my friends, that’s part of the beauty of this community. I see so many of you are going through similar situations – whether you only struggle seasonally, you have both major depression and SAD like me, or you are just in a tough place.

Sometimes, I actually run errands like this if I’m having trouble getting out of the house that day or REALLY don’t want any social interaction. I’m so outgoing. I love the people in my life. Sometimes, you just can’t, ya know? I guess do this to kind of hide, run through the store, and return to my little cave. Unhealthy, yes. Stealthy, also yes. I’m also starting to realize I look kinda fierce.

I know that mental health bloggers are supposed to provide you with this crazy list of like “99 Ways to Cure your Seasonal Depression” & I don’t have that (nor do I think it really exists in the way that we all want it to). I’ve skipped thousands of dollars worth of classes because I couldn’t get out of bed. I’ve felt the grip of depression get a little tighter on me as the days got darker and colder around me. So, I fucking believe that what you’re going through hurts. You are validated in needing help, needing space, needing time to heal, and just needing a moment to regroup. It is okay to not be okay…but, it is not okay to this you are all alone in that mindset.

Psychology Today says that 10 million Americans struggle with Seasonal Affective Disorder every single year. So, the fact that once again I felt like I was weak, unworthy, or less because the winter months give me depressive episodes is a little fucked, in my opinion. There was the stigma and narrative 18 year old me was running with… and I’m not doing that bullshit anymore. So, if you or someone you know are struggling with the season (or at all) PLEASE seek help or reach out for some great resources. I might not have a list of 99 Ways to Instantly Cure SAD, but I do have a couple things that work for me: making to-do lists (and getting that shit done some how and some way), candles, baths with epsom salt, undereye treatments, rolling out your calves (even if you’re not an athlete this just feels good), naps, good podcasts, and long SAFE drives.

I’m going to leave you with this quote from “Endless Night” in The Lion King, which has gotten me through some of my worst days. It’s relevant and I think that it might be my next tattoo. *don’t tell Becky* The sun does always come out, my loves. Even if we have to push really hard to get through right now.

Wait, you take MEDS?

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Yes. Yes, I do! Believe me, there wasn’t always a time when I would proudly proclaim that to the world & there’s still people in my life that think this skeleton should be shoved back in the closet. Nah. It’s out here, because taking medication is nothing to be ashamed of. When I tell people that I take Topirmate because I have chronic migraines, no one tells me to lower my voice. When I tell people that I have to take Zyrtec or Benadryl every day for like 6 months out of the year, they don’t look at me like I’m this incomplete human being or like I’m some kind of unstable addict just looking for a buzz. So, what’s the deal with medication that addresses mental illness? More importantly, what’s the deal with thinking that if we can’t see it on others, it’s not allowed to exist?

I put this picture on my Snapchat story a few weeks ago. Guess what, people’s first reaction wasn’t “OMG, you’re crazy” because they could SEE that something was wrong that the doctors were treating. For my mental health, though, the pain isn’t visible.

My parents getting me to talk to someone at age 16 was hard enough, getting me to take medicine? Virtually impossible. There was no way that I was taking a pill to “make me happier” in front of my friends. What would I say when they asked? When they asked me how it worked, how would I explain that I didn’t really see a difference yet? Nope. Not happening.

Here’s a good look at 16 year old Emily a couple months into taking an antidepressants. I wasn’t good at consistently taking them, nor was I really convinced that I actually needed them. I mean, I could smile….even if it didn’t feel right.

As first-born, my mom and dad didn’t really know how to “force” me to take the anti-depressants I desperately needed. This was like 2013, so it was way before the time of people posting their pills or talking about their dosage. Truthfully, I didn’t have any role models that I could turn to that were also in a position where they needed medication to jump start a mental health journey. Until one day, during musical practice, I saw my friend slip a tiny oval pill out of her bag and into her mouth. To anyone else, it was an antibiotic, a pain killer, irrelevant to their day to day life. To me, though, it was an indication that I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t alone in my city, my school, even my friend group. I had no idea that she was taking pills either.

One day, I got up the courage to ask her. “Hey, um, I know this is weird, but are you on Sertraline…? I just got prescribed it, but I don’t know anything about it.” Her eyes lit up. You could tell she didn’t really talk about it either. Just like that… I had a person that took pills just like me.

Now, this isn’t where the story ends. I’ve been on a roller coaster with my meds for a long time. There have been times where I’ve just cut them out cold turkey because I start to freak out about the idea of taking them until I’m 80 years old. Let me just tell you, there’s reasons doctors don’t let you do that. I went She-Hulk on everyone around me. I’ve gained a bunch of weight on some types of medication. Some didn’t work during the cold seasons so I needed to up my dose.

My story with medication is not perfect AT ALL. Even today, I’m writing this blog as someone who has experienced a lot of medications that affect my mental illness. I’m on Fluoxetine now. 60 mg. It’s a decently high dosage, but it’s one that the professionals around me and I are super happy with at the moment. So, why am I writing this?

While my parents were desperately begging me to take my meds, I had no role models that were taking meds proudly that weren’t also in the peak of emotional turmoil. Well, babe, here I am. I can confidently say that I have hit rock bottom, bounced back, hit it again and grown to a point where I feel called to help people that are going through what I did.

I’m writing to say that the weight gain, nausea, stomach aches, and other symptoms are unfair coupled with what you’re already going through. But, you can’t let it deter you from the goal of finding the right fit. There WILL be some prescriptions that are perfect for some and NOT good for you. There will be some doses that actually help you and are WAY too high for others. In this sense, we need to start thinking about antidepressants and antipsychotics in the way their meant to be viewed: as medications. If you were ill and a certain prescription didn’t work, you wouldn’t just give up, getting sicker. No, you would work with your doctor for a new prescription!

I’m also writing to say that the relevance and awareness about these pills is much more real these days. Odds are someone in your life, whether you know it or not, is taking pills for mental health reasons on a daily basis. These days, doctors know more about the pills they prescribe and people know the point in which they need to ask for medical help.

Most importantly, I’m writing to tell you it’s all going to be okay. Taking medication doesn’t correlate with being crazy as I once really thought that it did. If these medications weren’t needed, they wouldn’t exist… it’s not like you can walk up to a dealer on the street and they’ll have a hefty supply of antidepressants on hand. Some professional, who took all the chemistry, psych, and biology classes, thinks this is the best thing for you… you’d trust them for anything else, what makes this different? Taking medicine means that you need help. Guess what, it is OKAY to need help.

Fat AND Fabulous? HOW?

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A couple years ago, I wrote an article for my school news source called “What I Learned from Being Called Fat”. If you really want to see where my head was at in 2016, you’re welcome to read it here: https://babe.net/2016/10/16/ive-learned-called-fat-4511

But, I figured I should do an update on that post. I stand by what I said there. Time though, holds no prisoners. All those thoughts were amazing for the time being, but they weren’t sustainable as I grew into a young woman. Then, I sited a family member calling me fat to my face. It wasn’t the first time someone had made a comment, nor would it be the last. But, it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Someone who I loved with all of my heart, didn’t love every inch of me like I thought she did.

NOW, it’s taken me a long time to realize, but this comment wouldn’t have sent my world tumbling to the ground if my self image wasn’t already so rickety crick. So, why was that?

Alright, clearly I love you guys if I’m resurrecting 12 year old Emily photos… braces and all.

The first time I remember being extremely aware of my body was a summer trip to Utah. My little cousin who couldn’t have been more than like 3 walked up and asked if I had a baby in there – pointing right to my bloated little belly. I looked at her mom, who was in her third trimester, and instantly wanted to curl up and disappear. I’ve never told anyone that. I’m 22 years old and it still makes my hair stick up a little.

I’ve always carried my body weight in ways I didn’t want to. My baby weight stayed on WAY too long for my liking. I swam – a sport where the measurements of your shoulders, legs, arms, and feet set you apart from average. Honestly, despite being short and a little chubby, I was pretty damn good. My big ass legs made my walls something to see. But, I was SO aware that I was wearing a size 36 while all the other 14 year olds were wearing 32s. I know. It’s ridiculous, right? When you’re going through it, though, that’s ALL you think about. “If I can lose one inch around here, I’ll drop that second and be faster than her.” “If I can lose 5 more pounds, I might look like so-and-so from geometry and that boy might like me.” For as long as I can remember, body image has run my life…and I’d be lying to you if I said I’ve completely gotten over it.

My depression and anxiety started to get REALLY bad around age 16. I don’t know if that was life’s cruel joke but that was also the year that I hurt my shoulder and couldn’t swim and hormones made my curves extra curvy. I was never diagnosed with an eating disorder. I’m one of the lucky ones. But, there were times in the darkest pits of thoughts that I ate just to fill a void and then cried, because it was never filled. When I say that my weight skyrocketed, I’m not exaggerating for the point of this blog. I gain a lot of weight. I wasn’t eating good food. I wasn’t exercising my body the way that I needed to.

I still remember the day that I broke 200 pounds. Again, the hairs on my body stood up. All I wanted to do was curl up again and die. Of course, I started one of many diets and gym kicks that would fail.

When I wrote that first article, I was kind of sticking my middle finger up to the world. For all intents and purposes, I was testing healthy at the doctor, so I wasn’t in dire need to change my lifestyle. It wasn’t my intention to condone being overweight. In some ways, though, it was my way of settling with what I was: fat. Yes, I truly believe that you should love your body in all forms: chubby, skin, purple, blue, white, black, bumpy, smooth. But, that article was a way for me to sit back and not work towards a healthier lifestyle.

I’m 22 years old now. I’m definitely a weight that I don’t want to be still; but I know that losing the weight won’t make me happy with my body. I have to be happy with my body TO lose the weight. For a long long long time, I was able to use my weight as a shield for why I wouldn’t get shit done. Even recently! A year ago, I was telling myself that I wasn’t going to allow myself to go on a date until I lost 10 pounds….WHAT.

A little more than a year ago, I cut a lot of bad things out of my life: people, habits, choices, mindsets. I know that this seems like bullshit… but my weight honestly fell off. The more days that I woke up happy and without unnecessary saddness, the more dedicated I felt to living a happy lifestyle.

I lost 30 pounds by my 21st birthday, and I PROMISE, I wasn’t going to the gym or cutting out pizza…

Fast forward to now, I’ll let you in on a little secret: I didn’t keep all that weight off. It does fluctuate. BUT, I’m constantly told in my pictures, I’m constantly told that I look happier and healthier than ever before. How do I do it? I have learned to live with the body I HAVE, but work for the body I WANT – loving every inch along the way.

No one’s looking at you – For my little socially anxious honeys, this is a big one. We often put on an outfit that we love, but then we convince ourselves that we’re ugly/fat/slutty/too skinny/etc when we’re out because we feel all the eyes on us. Sorry to break it to you, my dear, unless someone is giving you the eyes because they’re interested…. they aren’t looking at you. The amount of times I’ve had my friends hype me up and convince me not to go home and put on a big sweatshirt is insane. People are worried about themselves, what their too-drunk friends are doing, and the people they’re giving eyes too. No one cares the way that your shirt hits on your stomach. Pinky promise.

Angles are great, but everyone uses them – I have a lot of HOT friends. I’m not kidding, they’ll post a pic and get hundreds of likes in no time. But, if you don’t think that they also contort their bodies for the perfect pic… you’re wrong. EVERYONE uses angles for the best light or to make their ass look the biggest. So, that girl that’s #goals is also modeling herself off others. It’s a never-ending, self deprecating cycle. That being said, Facetune is an app everyone has access to. No, it’s not fair, but remember that when you’re scrolling through Insta and seeing these perfect people. I mean, for God’s sake, Kim Kardashian thinks she needs it…. Social media is NOT all that it appears to be. Take it with a grain of salt.

Protip from the Photog: ALWAYS take from an upper angle 😉 it doesn’t like make you instantly lose 10 pounds, but it usually makes your eyes light up more!

Confidence is key – Part of my healing from a bad relationship and years of bad body image was walking around like I was the hottest piece of ass on the street. YES, this was hard as all fuck. Here’s the thing though, you’re gonna be the hardest person to convince of this. I started to see myself change in pictures when my mindset changed. My smile got brighter. My stance got straighter. I genuinely felt beautiful, because I wouldn’t allow myself to feel any other way.

Guess what, I went on the dates. I stopped punishing myself for the way that I looked & started believing that they were lucky to have my time. I started wearing the damn crop top, despite the bright white stretch marks on my tan summer skin. I danced (and ripped my pants lol) at the bars.

I recently saw a quote that said “You’re stressed because you give a fuck”. That’s kind of how I view my body now. I go to the gym because I want to change the world for a long time. I want to lose weight so that one day I can chase after my kids without feeling like I have a cinder block strapped to me. Right now, my outside body doesn’t always match the drive and confidence I have inside. I give a fuck. So, someday it will. Not for boys, not for judgmental girls, not for anyone else. For me.

I took this picture today (10/15/19) as a work in progress. But, a perfect work in progress all the same. (Don’t let my mom see how messy my room is)

I’m not going to waste my day thinking about how my ass looks in these leggings. I have 3000000000 things to do today that don’t require my ass looking good. The people that I want in my life think hot because of my mind, my passion, and my confidence. My body is can just be a bonus for them 😉 When I was a successful athlete at 130 pounds, I still looked at the scale and wanted to scream. For me, and I know for a lot of you, losing the weight isn’t gonna make you feel fulfilled. You have to reject this idea that there’s a standard of “perfection” that is right around the corner. I promise, you’re not gonna hit it, no matter how much you don’t eat or how hard you sweat. It doesn’t exist, babe. Your body isn’t begging you for perfection, it’s begging you for acceptance. The minute you accept your reality, love your realistic skin, and start the hustle for the RIGHT reasons, that’s when you’ll see some major changes.

So, let’s not get it twisted. I know I’m hot – thick thighs, big ass, layer of chub and all. I don’t need the outward verbalization. I know. I also know that there’s always room for improvement. My body every step of the way, though is as beautiful as I portray it to be. THAT’S how you make it sustainable, my love. You don’t give yourself another option. When you believe that that’s the only possible option, you present one version to the world. People will not only fully see and believe that version of you, but they’ll be in awe of how someone could be so unapologetically confident in their beautiful skin.

Forgiving, But Not For Nothing

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I have been absolutely overwhelmed by the amount of love and support that I got in my last blog. At the time of writing this, this website with ONE (1) post has over 425 visitors. 300 interactions in the first 24 hours. That’s so crazy guys (and yes, I did cry tears of happiness. Lots of them.)

I wanted to kind of follow up my first post with how to forgive, even when your mind has created these super high walls. Forgiving, even when the other party probably doesn’t deserve it. Forgiving for the right reasons. Forgiving for your own growth and for your own ability to turn the page.

In the past, I always said that I don’t want to carry around resentment and anger. There’s a difference, though, between saying that and meaning it. I found that in the past I was saying it as a tool to get back in my ex’s life. I would say that I didn’t want the resentment as an attempt to become friends with my ex, bring him back into my life, whatever. I missed him, so I convinced myself and those who questioned me, that forgiving him was the best thing for ME. It was really the best way to see him and get back into the cycle of bullshit with him again.

Recently, I sent a message that didn’t need a follow up. I didn’t need a reaction or an argument. I hammered the final nail into the coffin containing the past, toxic, unhealthy Emily. I fucking forgave them. I wished them the best. And most importantly, I forgave myself.

Now, I was super manipulated and I don’t want to belittle that pain or that process. You learned in my last post that I actually learned quite a bit about future relationships and about myself through those trying times. But, being the victim in some sense doesn’t change the fact that some of the things that I said or did warranted an apology. It’s not based on who he is, it’s based on who I am. I needed to put out in the universe how I was feeling. Even if I’m blocked and they never, ever see it. Even if they read it and don’t think it’s genuine. Even if they don’t care at all. For so long, I had sucked so much toxicity out of the universe and implemented it into my life, I needed to throw some positivity back.

So, I apologized – for things that I was actually sorry for, and nothing that I didn’t feel warranted an apology on my end. I didn’t feel coerced to say it. I didn’t think there was going to be this big “Aha!” moment when I hit send that gave me something in return. The only acknowledgement I’ve seen was someone calling me a “dumb ass jealous girl” which is OKAY! If that’s how they read it and viewed it, that’s totally fine. It’s not by any means how I meant it, nor is it how I felt/feel. BUT, that’s the thing babe – the only thing you can control is you. If you give a genuine apology or act from a genuine place in your heart, you can’t change how people react to that.

I said sorry because that’s what I needed to do for myself. The weight on my chest that I had clearly acted out of a toxic place and out of character still bothered me to this day – after months of no contact. It was a signal to myself and the universe, “hey dude, I’m done here. Let’s move on.”

In the message, which you can see a bit of above, I said that I’m happy for my ex and his new girlfriend. For the first time in years, I genuinely am. I struggled so much with the complicated emotions of not wanting to personally be with him, but also not wanting him to be happy with someone new. It sounds crazy, I know. But that’s totally natural, and takes a lot to get over!

Now, just as I hope it for myself, I hope that he finds a fulfilling and healthy relationship. I was not put on this Earth to love him as I once thought I was. But, he was also not put onto this Earth to have a presence in my life. As soon as I took that power back, I let it go like it never had existed.

I had to find closure myself. Which is unfair and shitty – but clearly, it helped me reach a higher form of myself and a higher form of clarity. Honestly guys, I did go a little loco. I let myself sink to a place that was dangerous for another person & almost blame my mental health deficits completely on them; taking responsibility for nothing. It made it really easy to move on physically, but hard to actually turn the page without getting some paper cuts.

Babe, that closure and calm is there. I found it. Today, I am able to wish someone who hurt the fuck out of me healing and strength. I didn’t feel genuine about that for a long, long time. But now, as I hope it for myself, I hope it for those who have ever been touched by me. I hope it for him and his new girlfriend. Their mistakes and memories are theirs. They have absolutely nothing to do with what we had. Furthermore, because he’s in a new relationship doesn’t mean that I wasn’t enough. It means that I finally figured out what I was worth, what I wanted, and what I would stand for – and none of that was him. At the end of the day, he will never be with another girl like me – and that’s good because IT WAS TOXIC AND ABUSIVE.

No, I don’t ever want another girl to be hurt like I was again. That part still stands even in the presence of an apology. I’m not condoning his treatment of me. The difference here, is that my apology is for MY words and MY actions. My healing, however, will fill the void of an apology from him. I don’t need it. I don’t really want it. An apology shouldn’t be given in hopes of being reciprocated and it’s definitely not some ploy to get back into their life. There is so much power in being able to say “Yeah, you fucked me over, but I forgive YOU because I’m strong.” After sending that message, I felt like a badass. I felt like an adult for apologizing for acting out, but also felt like a queen for forgiving people who I don’t want as friends, followers, or loved ones. I apologized purely because I felt I needed to. Empowering af.

And babe, you will KNOW when you’re ready to take ownership and apologize. There’s a difference between saying you’re happy for them and actually being happy for them. For the first time, I don’t give a shit if I’m blocked or not. I don’t give a fuck if they’re talking badly about me. I said my peace and I can’t control anyone’s actions from here. Another thing – you can want happiness for someone without being an active part of their life. As I said in my message, my life runs more smoothly all the way around when he’s not here. Lesson learned. So, I can just have positive vibes in the world without being a bystander of that happiness, ya know?

So, my friends, don’t forgive because you think it will make the situation better. If you don’t feel it, don’t say it. In my case, part of my forgiveness process was recognizing myself as a player in this back and forth. For me, it meant apologizing for acting as someone I wasn’t for so long and it might not for you! If you’re gonna forgive someone, don’t disservice yourself or them by just blowing smoke. Feel it. Speak it. Analyze it. Forgive for others, but don’t forget to forgive for your own healing and serenity too.

Purpose from Pain

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For a long time, I’ve felt like the victim in my own life. I’ve constantly questioned why the Universe, or God, or whatever the hell is up there calling the shots. I’m a good person, good friend, and I was a really good girlfriend. So, why was I being tested?

Honestly, this mindset is just exhausting though. Constantly questioning the energy that surrounds you and feeling like a victim is just draining. I was definitely ready to stop feeling this way, to let go of the past, and to finally move on.

I’ve always been interested in mental health advocacy and restructuring of thoughts. I’ve been in therapy since I was 16. I’ve read all the books, done all the guided meditation, and done so many journal entries my hands eternally hurt. A few weeks back, I came across an amazing podcast (Align Your Life with Namaste Jenay – seriously, check it out!) that changed a lot about my life. It was divine timing, for sure – hearing about how to approach my lasting pain and understanding how to move forward.

Faces blurred for HIS privacy. You can see that we had that cute, Insta-worthy love. No disrespect… but this one is finally about me, not him.

To understand my purpose, you’ve gotta understand the pain. My ex, let’s call him Tommy, and I started dating at the ripe age of 17. We had dated before, been friends through all those gross acne-filled years, and been through a lot. Even five years later, I can honestly say that I loved that kid with all of my heart. Every fiber of my being that could feel love, did.

I don’t want to discredit him. He worshiped the ground that I walked on, let me be the drama queen I crave to be, and never really argued with me when I got worked up.

Red flags definitely presented themselves, but I loved him too much to see them. I didn’t believe the girls that told me things that should have had me running for the hills. Three years later, our breakup had the ability to be civil, but it wasn’t. After three years, we came to the conclusion that something felt different over text. I moved all of my stuff out of our apartment in an hour… even taking the shower curtain as a middle finger to the dude I thought I would spend my life with.

It wasn’t the breakup that hurt though. Yes, it was shitty. Yes, I cried a lot and felt pain, but it was a temporary, easy to heal pain. The pain came after – days, months, and even years after. The pain came when he was promising that he was coming back, only to be consistently hooking up with girls I was told not to worry about. The pain came from crying on the bathroom floor begging him for closure, only to be ignored. The pain came from being used for attention while three girls were in his back pocket. It came from being driven to the clinic and hearing “I have class at 1, so this better be done by then” as if my mental, physical, and emotional was a chore for him. My pain was centered around trying to articulate what my tears were from, only for him to threaten to hurt himself and result in me needing to apologize. My pain came from him throwing the irrationally thoughts I had hyperventilated in my panic attacks right back in my face, as if him speaking them made them fact. My pain was from finally finding my voice only to be called every name by someone I still loved with all my heart.

I was abused. It took me a long time to come to terms with that and say it out loud. I was allowed to feel like the victim without feeling guilty. Sure, there were moments when I was toxic, let’s not glass over that. There were also things that I said that were not okay; that I wish I could take back.

Life has a funny way of rewarding you or continuing to kick based on whether you learn the lesson or not. The emotional scars he left on me will change how I approach relationships forever. At least now I know that this pain, was the Universe’s purpose. My purpose.

I was forcing myself to laugh here. I left that wedding early to cry in the shower – despite having all of my absolute favorite people around me. I had let my pain run wild – picking up food, packing on the pounds, desperately calling him on the off chance he had something positive to say, and losing all hope on life.

My purpose

When Namaste Jenay first started talking about purpose from pain, I thought “fuck that, there’s some pain that is just unfair and too bad to have a purpose”. I mean, there are still therapy sessions when all I can do is cry at how messed up I feel. There are still times when all I want to do is check up on him. There’s still times when I get jealous of the new girl that I know he’s cheating on. So, shouldn’t all of my purpose be negative? That’s the thing that changed my life… the purpose of my pain is all positive lessons from the Universe.

Your toughest obstacle is your biggest teacher.

— Namaste Jenay

Let’s get one thing straight. You’re body is MADE to fight pain. All types of pain. When you roll an ankle, the other muscles step up to overcompensate. When you have strep throat, cells in your body are made just to kick all those nasty virus asses. Same thing for emotional pain. All your brain and heart want to do is heal, but you won’t do that until you accept the pain and find it’s purpose.

In sending me Tommy, the Universe was trying to teach me a lesson about life and love. A lesson that I clearly wasn’t ready to listen to as I took him back for the millionth time. Today, I can finally say that I’m ready for the lessons that the Universe intended for me to learn in this pain. Also today, the Universe can finally say that it believes me!

Thanks Evan MacDougall with e.mac Photography for these pictures that genuinely show the healing. I’ve lost the weight, turned to family, and found the healthiest coping mechanisms for the bad days.

I’ve bare minimum standards for myself. For so long, I let him come back in no matter what he did. The standards that I thought I had got lost in a desperation of getting him to stay. Now, I can say with 100% certainty that I will never stay with someone when trust doesn’t exist. I will never beg someone to hear me, listen to me, or care. No, it’s not healthy to project my issues onto the next man that enters my life. But, I’m never going to be a “You cheated, let’s work it out” girlfriend again. Never. I will never believe that someone who says they love me can continue to hurt me.

I have the power to help other women. With all the bullshit I went through, I was under the assertion that no one could ever go through what I did. That was my own ego getting in the way. It was a lesson that I refused to learn. Not only are there other women who went through similar pain at the hands of Tommy, but there are millions of people who are in emotionally manipulative relationships. There are millions of people whose standards have been blinded by the intense love for one person. So, if the Universe needed me to feel pain and learn lessons so that I can shed light for someone else, it was worth it. If I can be an advocate for one’s voice, even when it’s been silenced, THAT is my purpose.

Even in the absolute best part of my relationship, Tommy didn’t make me as happy as I’m making myself right now.

I needed to find my own strength. Sure, in 2017 I thought I was the baddest bitch on the street. I was in a relationship with a cute boy and for all intents and purposes, I was really strong. But, I wasn’t strong enough for LIFE. Going through my first breakup, I genuinely thought that death would have been easier. (Yes, I’m aware how dramatic that sounds.) But, I had let a guy complete me for so long, I didn’t really know how to be strong. Now, I see girls going through what I did. All their friends want to do is shake them and tell them to step away, but babe, it’s okay if you don’t see that strength there. It exists. It’s there, it just takes time to tap into. The Universe needed me to learn strength. It needed me to learn that the strength I had wasn’t gone forever as a result of him, it was just hidden until I was ready to find it. And now, let me tell you. I feel so strong. Taking the lesson, running with it, and acting upon it has made me so so so strong – physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Life challenged me. For years, I wasn’t ready to find the purpose, see the red flags, or learn the lesson. So, every time he came back in, I welcomed him with open arms; signalling to the Universe that I hadn’t learned last time. My body wanted to heal. My coping mechanisms were in place to guide me to purpose, but I had to let them. I know it’s much easier said than done. But everyday, I had to get up and say “I’m going to heal a little bit more today. I deserve to let my body find the peace that it deserves.” I promise that it will feel like speaking to a brick wall at first. Someday, though, you’ll start to believe an itty bitty part of it. It’s time, my love. Right now. Today.

Today, I struggle with an ability to connect and trust. It’s been easy to blame that on him. But, for the first time, it’s NOT FUCKING ABOUT HIM. This is about growth in me. Fears that I personally have that will hold me back until I face them. But the lessons, they’re there. On bad days when I seem to be reverting to whatever form allowed so much pain in my life, the purpose is ingrained enough to stop me. To save me.

Tommy is dating a new girl now. For a long time, I found it my duty to let these girls know my story to warn them about him. Now, I know, that my purpose is to share my strength, empowerment, and support as living and breathing proof that you CAN get through it. It’s not my job to air his grievances or make sure he doesn’t hurt people. It’s my job to leave him in the past, leave that abuse and pain in the past, and show that though the journey is long, it’s so so so worth it.

There I am, in all my glory. So, this one’s for you, EmyD! Are YOU ready to let your body, mind, and soul heal with me?

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