Instead I Live on National Suicide Prevention Day

I know that National Suicide Prevention Day isn’t a national holiday. It’s a day dedicated to the prevention of suicides around the world celebrated on the 10th of September each year. Does the general public know of this day? Absolutely not. To be honest with you, I didn’t even know the exact date until I was approached by a mental health organization on IG. So, as a mental health advocate and blog owner, I didn’t know the day of the year that we show our commitment to preventing suicides for the entire year. Something is wrong with that. So, today, I chose to write about my experience, my story, and my commitment to preventing suicide 365 days a year. *TRIGGER WARNING: Suicide, suicidal thoughts, depression*

I would never have classified myself as someone that was suicidal. Even now, despite sharing a bunch of vulnerable stories online, I’m hesitant to put that out there. Suicide feels too dark and real to put online sometimes. But, like everything I put online, I share because it might make someone else feel a sense of community, belonging, and comfort.

My Story

In my file, you’d find a note from my high school years that reads something like “Displays Suicidal Tendencies.” The things I said were in line with someone who didn’t care whether they were on this earth or not. Goals that I had for the future were nowhere to be found – partially because I couldn’t imagine a future.

My experience with suicidal thoughts or how to combat them is different than others. It’s not the same as what you see in the movies or even on those videos that they show you in health class. For me, everything just kind of was numb. I didn’t care about grades, friends, or anything that had given me joy. All I had the energy to do was sleep & sleeping forever seemed like a pretty good solution to these problems.

My story as you’ll find, is not a one size fit all. Some people have trauma that pushes them into depression and suicidal tendencies. Some have depression in their biology that deals them a rough hand of cards from the start. After that, problem solving feels harder and harder every time. There’s some like me, who have an amazing life, an amazing family, and essentially all the right tools to make it, yet still fall into the trap of having dark thoughts. Some people fit none of those descriptions.

The Realities of Suicide Prevention

Understanding suicide and treating it as a reality in our world is always the first step to combatting it. First, let’s just get this out there: suicide exists. Unlike popular opinion, it’s not just 20-somethings who have been mentally disturbed their whole life. In fact, the highest demographic affected by suicide is middle aged white men, according to the American Foundation of Suicide Prevention. It’s K-12 students who’ve been bullied, gone through trauma, or just dealt with undiagnosed mental illness. Our elderly population is not immune either. Though we have a schema for suicide, understanding that prevention goes far beyond a classroom or social media screen is extremely important.

I’m not a doctor, a therapist, or even a volunteer for a mental health organization. The credibility I speak from is having gone through my own issues. Thus, I can’t sit here and say all the ways you can combat suicidal thoughts and tendencies. I can, however, talk about how I learned to live when all I wanted to do was die.

MY Suicide Prevention

I was talking very openly about death (a huge warning sign – follow this link for more info) even if I hadn’t begun to develop a plan. It was clear to those that loved me the most that I cared very little about things that happened in my life – good or bad. In fact, I was ready to disconnect from anything that made me feel committed. Speaking very candidly here, I started to imagine what other’s lives would be like without mine. Would they be better off? My anxieties pushed me to think so, but something about that felt wrong. I couldn’t imagine my baby brother talking about the sister he “used” to have. No matter how irritable, angry, or just confusing I had been I was still his big sister.

I Started Talking

Thank you to HeartSupport for this graphic and the #InsteadILive campaign that inspired this blog!

The first time I said “I’m not okay” outloud was really difficult. I had been getting through the day, going through the motions, and crashing into rock bottom as time went on. When I finally let those words out of my body, it felt like a tidal wave.

Talking about my depression, anxiety, and dark thoughts has been hugely therapeutic for me. Even now, speaking openly about things that might be uncomfortable has made me feel empowered to be exactly who I am. Speaking about thoughts that I had allowed my family and I to pinpoint some areas of my life that were at an absolute breaking point, even if I didn’t see them as such. When you’re talking about your feelings, you can also get to realizations faster than just keeping it all bottled up.

It was so hard for the people I love to hear me speak about life so apathetically, but it also allowed us all to work towards a healthy solution to the problem.

I Created

Courtesy of HeartSupport and the #InsteadILive campaign

If you guys couldn’t tell, I do have a blog. LOL. No, but I’ve been writing about mental health and those moments of pure mental anguish for a long, long time. Even before they were under the name “EmyD”. I also used song, dance, and art to express thoughts that I literally could not formulate into words. Throwing myself headfirst into hobbies allowed me to give a shit, for lack of a better term. When all else failed, I had something that actually made me feel productive and a bit more human.

Don’t get me wrong. There were days that I was so mentally exhausted I couldn’t get out of bed. The idea of “perking myself up with a painting” would have made me vomit. Let me tell you, though, learning to live for something is a game-changer. I couldn’t put all of that on my brother because it’s not fair, nor does it give me autonomy as a young woman. I had to learn how to love what I could say, do, write, and create all on my own.

I Advocate

While I still have a mental illness, it’s been a long time since my mind has had a suicidal thought. It’s not because I’ve grown out of it or completely changed. Rather, it’s because I found value in life that I couldn’t see. I learned coping mechanisms for mental illness that only worsened it. Lastly, I learned that saying “I need help” doesn’t make you any less of a badass.

These days, I still have really bad days. They come much more in frequently now. Between them are many really great days to ward off the darkness. But, I still have bad days. I advocate for people with mental illness and suicidal tendencies because living is the best decision I’ve ever made.

I advocate now because six years ago, I needed someone else to advocate for me. I commit myself to preventing suicide in any way I possibly can on this National Suicide Prevention Day. Even when it gets dark and scary, I have to remind myself that I can defy the thoughts that want to put me down by saying, “Instead, I live.”

Thank you so much @HeartSupport for creating such an important initiative and constantly advocating for important things. Thank you, Taylor Palmby, for encouraging me to look into the #InsteadILive campaign!

Join the conversation on any of my socials or find valuable resources through HeartSupport!

Why I Wear My Mask

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** This post may contain affiliate links, which means I may receive a small commission, at no cost to you, if you make a purchase through one of the links! **

I live in a place where not everyone is sold on masks. It’s not like New York City where people want to wear masks because nearly everyone has either had this virus or seen a loved one have it. I live in Wisconsin where open farmland stretches between every big city. There’s a lot more space and less people so the case numbers don’t look so bad on paper. You’d think that it would only push people to wear masks in the bigger cities…nope. I guess I never really had to think about why I wear my mask.

People DON’T Wear Masks?

I’m not going to trash Wisconsin too much in this post. There’s too many die-hard Badgers on all of my social media feeds. Also, it’s still the place that I call home. Milwaukee and Madison make up a huge percentage of the State’s population which tend to be very liberal parts of the state. Smaller counties tend to be more conservative with far less people. There’s obvious outliers like cities with big universities or one’s that are closer to the Illinois border, but you generally see those liberal vs. conservative trends throughout the state. Living in two fairly liberal counties for all my life, I always thought that Wisconsin was split. Then, I started to go up north.

After we all took COVID tests, self-quarantined, and bought enough hand sanitizer to fill a bathtub, my friends and I went to an AirBNB in Somerset, Wisconsin. It’s a tiny little town near the Minnesota border. I would definitely consider it “up north” even if my friends would laugh at me.

The most outrageous P. Diddy party that you’ve ever seen. We know. But, we got swabs up our nose for this so cut us some slack.

While I’ve been buying disposable masks for my car and researching where to buy good hand sanitizer, I would bet money that half the residents of these small towns didn’t even think to buy one yet. In small town Wisconsin, the threat of a pandemic truly hadn’t brought stress to their everyday lives – not because they couldn’t see it on their TV or weren’t worried about their families, but because they hadn’t necessarily seen it with their own eyes yet.

Why DO We Wear Masks?

As humans, empathy can be hard. We have to watch our role models care about things that might not directly be affecting them. We feel sad when mommy cries even if we have no idea what’s going on. As we grow up, we’re really angry that our friend got bullied on the playground, even if it wasn’t us. We learn that the actions toward others and of others can affect us. Enter global pandemic and perfect opportunity for us to show our empathetic sides!

My sweet friends, Megan and Nathan, have put masks on their children since March. Their kids are a whopping 2 years old and 3 years old (he would tell you he’s about to be 4 and he wants an ankylosaurus for his birthday). They know that taking their children into public places, like a quick Target run, does not guarantee anyone in their house safety. They know that the little piece of fabric covering their child’s face doesn’t protect against everything. They’ve taught their children, however, that masks are what superheroes wear to keep everyone else safe.

They know that they have to wear their masks to keep others safe. So, those little babes and my sweet friends teaching them empathy are why I wear my mask. Because if toddlers can wear masks for a grocery run to keep other people safe, my grown 23-year old ass can.

I Wear My Mask Because…

I wear my mask to keep people like my grandma safe. That little lady has spent the better part of 5 months in her house with only a couple adventures to the outside world. As someone who is extremely high risk, my grandma and other people’s grandparents are braving it to get their errands done. I wear my mask to do whatever possible to keep them safe!

I wear my mask for my amazing hair dresser. I’ve been seeing her for years. Even if I wasn’t picketing with signs about it, my roots were looking pretty rough in quarantine. I’ve done enough hair treatments to sing “Beauty School Dropout” as my theme song. Truthfully, I will be adding those Shea moisture products (here are the ones I use) as a source of amazing self care long after COVID, but a girl needs some stylist attention too! Her business and clients are a livelihood that she depends on for financial security and her own sanity. I wear my mask to keep her safe so that she can snuggle her grandkids on the days she has off. If I want to enjoy the luxury that is going to get my hair done, I can prioritize health in that process.

I wear a mask for my immunocompromised friends who’ve already had a hard go at life. I’ve watched some take their blood sugar before we go out and give themselves insulin. Some have lost a ton of muscle mass just trying to figure out what they could eat. Others can’t even go a week without having a fever. I wear a mask for my friends with asthma, allergies, and colds. Those who normally feel fine but wouldn’t be okay I exposed them to something.

I Wear My Mask Because I’m a Superhero

At the end of the day, I wear a mask for me. I wear a mask because it sends the message that I want to send out into the world. It says that I care about others – that I’m empathetic to their health, well-being, and lives. It shows that I will do what’s in my power to end this weird period of pandemic. I wear a mask to set an example that it’s the “cool” thing to do even though I’m surprised it’s a discussion. I wear a mask because I’m a superhero and they always help others.

Why do you wear YOUR mask? Tell me using the links to any of the socials below! I want to hear your story!

How A Celebrity Can Change Your Mental Health Journey

TW: Substance abuse, self harm, suicidal thoughts

My life was at its absolute worst when I was a Junior in high school. My mental health was undiagnosed and running rampant. I was smart enough to get good grades in school but had become completely apathetic of actually learning or retaining anything. Being civil, I was able to hold it together but I pushed away those closest to me with a sharp tongue. I turned to hurting myself to feel anything at all.

If you’ve never been through this kind of low, it’s really hard to understand. If you’ve never felt the jagged rocks of “rock bottom” in your back as you stared blankly at your bedroom ceiling, this might be hard to wrap your head around. Honestly, I wouldn’t wish this feeling – or lack thereof – on my worst enemy.

My friend, Ross, had already met Demi before. I clung to him that year as one of my only sources of sanity. There was something about his overwhelming obsession with her that I didn’t really understand. Then, I really listened. Instead of staring at my ceiling in my dark bedroom in silence, I did it to the tune of “Skyscraper” coming off of my iPhone. I listened to her pain – something that I could understand. The triumphs in her lyrics faintly reminded me of moments before the depression got so bad. I actually listened to the music.

Ross and I in the second row at my first Demi Lovato concert. I only cried three times!!!

To me, Demi wasn’t a Disney-star-gone-rogue. She was talented and misunderstood. She was forced into a box for so long that she simply couldn’t take anymore – which is exactly how I was starting to feel. As I got diagnosed with new mental illnesses, I felt more and more like a freak show. Suddenly, I went from the blonde, preppy girl who was in everything to the depressed, anxious girl who was constantly absent. I was meant to fit in a box that my undiagnosed mental illness wasn’t allowing me to and the promise of an absolute shit show was looming.

Her honesty about addiction and drug use was something that I found really admirable. Her ability to speak about addiction in young people was something I didn’t even realize was a problem until my college years. By then, I had been following her for so long I saw the red flags a little more clearly. Most of all, I related to her because she wasn’t a Barbie. She was human – flawed, vulnerable, and damaged. Yet, someone that people could look up to. Something that I hoped I could be one day with my mental health.

“Now, I’m a Warrior”

I don’t know if I would have started talking about my mental health if it wasn’t for Demi’s story. More specifically, for the music. I started to pay attention to my drives to school. The actual words on the songs playing out of the speakers in my Chevy Malibu. On the DEMI album, there’s a song called “Warrior” which is my absolute favorite song to this day. So, if you ever need to answer trivia about me, there you go. It truly is about her coming to terms with a story that’s never been made public. That story finally makes her feel like a survivor; a warrior.

Even if I didn’t feel it at that moment, I knew that my mental health was something that I could handle. It was something that would change me forever and it didn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing. I knew that this was just another chapter in the story of my life that I would tell someday to my kids, my friends, or really anyone that would listen. Somewhere inside of me, I felt comfort in the words that Demi sang. Maybe our hardest moments really are there to bring out the warrior within us.

Demi’s influence on love & relationships

Now, six years later, there are still moments where you can see the place I “wear my battle scars” of depression as the song says. My partners have seen me be “ashamed and confused” of the person I was for a long time.

Demi went through a couple relationships that always looked like love. To me, it gave me hope that someone could love me even if my brain didn’t produce enough serotonin. Demi had breakups, just like me. She sang about them in ways I didn’t think I needed, but I did. She empathized with me in loving someone we no longer had. Ripped my heart out in ballads just aching for them. But, she ultimately reminded me that I didn’t need anyone. I was a baddie just being me. Just like I was still a warrior from all those years ago.

Demi just got engaged. It was kind of like my best friend from kindergarten got engaged. You know the feeling, right? You haven’t seen them in a really long time. They’re not a huge influence on your daily life. But, at one point, they were all you had. In that moment, I was reminded that mental illness, addiction, self harm, and negative body image doesn’t make you less lovable.

https://www.instagram.com/p/CC-S49WhMDR/

The person that I had looked up to as a positive light for all those things had pushed through to find love, but what if she never really pushed through? What if part of our journey to happiness, acceptance, and healing is finding someone who jumps on that mental health rollercoaster with us? What if true love is finding someone to squeeze our hand when our stomach drops? Not make you get off and hold you, but just squeeze your hand. What if true love is someone that will scream at the top of their lungs alongside us at the very top? Not someone who just takes pics for the IG? Demi reminded me that mental illness doesn’t mean you’re half. It means that you have to look a little bit harder to find all the parts of your whole.

STILL, I’m a Warrior

At the end of the day, though, I do feel like a warrior. I know that I’ve survived every single hard day that life has thrown at me. I know that having a mental illness might absolutely suck some days. There will be temporary people who don’t understand. Mean words are going to be flung my way. Never again, though, will I try to fit into a box and deny who I am.

I have severe clinical depression. I can say I have generalized anxiety. Sometimes, my severe social anxiety is noticeable. I suffer from panic disorder. I take medicine. But, I am me. I am a warrior. Demi was the first person I saw that made it cool to NOT be okay. Her music was the way that I understood the rollercoaster of the struggle and that I’m not the only one riding it.

Have you had a celebrity that changed your life? Tell me about them in any of my DMs below – I want to hear your story!

My Therapist Left

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We tend to forget that therapists, counsellors, and psychiatrists are humans just like us. They have families and responsibilities outside their jobs. They have bills to pay, children to watch, and relationships to foster just like the rest of us. We see them as guides through really tough times in our life. Sometimes, they’re the only voice that can speak to us while we’re drowning. It’s natural that they seem almost untouchable; above our everyday problems. Still, they have them. Sometimes, you might find yourself in my boat: my therapist left.

Clearly, I don’t have any photos with my therapist…. but, this is right around the time that I started seeing her in 2016! Lipstick is killing it. Mental health? Not so much.

The best thing in the world is meeting and working with someone that you click with. The therapist that I’ve had for the last few years has been that. Where others have been quick to prescribe meds, she knew that I always wanted to try another route first. She knew that I was unbelievably analytical, so self-diagnosis was a serious problem if I let myself go too long without seeing her. Lastly, she knew that I was stubborn. I would go to my dying day saying that I was fine. If I had to handle school, work, and stress while dealing with a severe mental illness, I would without help. But, I would do so until I absolutely broke down.

The Realities of Having a Therapist

Finding the right therapist can be difficult. It’s like a blind date. You’re not really sure how you’re going to click with this person. However, you’re expected to unload a lot of intimate thoughts onto them. I’ve definitely done an intake with someone who I totally did not click with and requested a new therapist.

Sometimes, the therapist you’ve heard amazing things about isn’t taking new clients. You have to wait for a referral from someone that’s higher up the food chain. In the hospitals, where these therapists are more accessible and insurance carriers are more likely to cover it, the faster therapists fill up. Can we all just agree that we need more mental health resources at LOWER COSTS?!

Once you find someone that clicks, you kind of cling to them like a weird stuffed animal. You get attached pretty fast. They become part of your family, but like an objective part that will tell you that you’re being irrational. You know? It’s all part of the realities of having a therapist and being a client.

My Therapist Left

Another harsh reality is that your therapist might move! As I said before, these people are human beings with families, lives, and responsibilities that exist outside of their offices. In my experience, therapists that have moved practices or from one state to another have done so with ample notice to their patients. Obviously, I’ve been blessed with finding a great couple of providers, but I’ve never called to make an appointment to find out they’ve vanished. Usually, when they leave, they’ll refer you to another therapist that they think will work for you. You get the final say, of course. They give you time to see them and make those arrangements.

All of that being said, however, doesn’t make that loss any easier. Being understanding about the fact that my therapist had children and a life outside, doesn’t invalidate that that is a loss in my life! A therapist is someone that you share intimate thoughts and traumas with and you are allowed to feel a sense of loss – they know that which is why they try to make the transition as easy as possible!

Truthfully, it’s not something that is a “typical” occurrence by any means. You’re more likely to move to a new place or need to switch providers far before you’d ever deal with a therapist moving, but it does happen. When it does, we need to know that it’s okay to feel that loss, feel it all, and reach out for help during that transition.

The Takeaway

Here’s me without a therapist! A LOT of healing has happened since the first photo. As with any human, I still have more to heal, more to work on, and growth to make in this life of mine! Therapy ROCKS because we make it rock, not just because of our therapists…. even if they rock too 😉

Most recently, I called my nurse practitioner about some more guidance in choosing who to schedule my next appointment with. Something that I thought was totally in my own hands was made very comfortable by having a professional walk me through my file and talk to me about therapy I preferred! A quick telephone call can save you hours of scouring the Internet looking for a name to jump out at you, when you might not really know what you’re looking for! There’s NOTHING wrong with asking for help in times of these weird transitions – in fact, everyone involved wants you to!

So yes, my therapist left a couple months ago. She absolutely rocked. I’m going to miss meeting with her. The relationship that I had with her was so beneficial for me in some of the darkest times of my life. At the end of the day, I’m allowed to miss her! But, I know that there’s therapists that are smart, able, and willing to accompany me in my mental health journey just as she was all those years ago!

If you’re having trouble finding a therapist, getting yourself involved, or just want to talk about other options/my experience with therapy, PLEASE get in my DMs below! I want to chat!

A Look Into a Depressive Episode

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For the most part, I’m okay. I haven’t always been able to say that. I mean, for most of my formative years I would grumble, “I’m fine.” Everyone around me knew that was a lie, but I thought I was pulling it off decently. It wasn’t until I found myself in writing that I felt comfortable sharing that maybe I wasn’t okay. At that time, I needed help and I needed it fast.

I wrote a blog at the beginning of Mental Health Awareness Month about the guilt associated with my happiness as a vocal advocate for the mental health community. In that blog, I talked about how I have mostly considered myself to be in the recovery part of my mental health journey. The bad days don’t come as often as they used to. When they do, I’m usually equipped to handle them in a healthy way.

You already KNOW that I’m all about habits and habit tracking. I make my bed everyday and try to keep my environment clean….unless I’m in a depressive episode.

That doesn’t, however, mean that I’m cured. I absolutely love to hear success stories of patients who struggle for a bit, go through some intense therapy, and move on with their life leaving depression in the past. I absolutely believe it’s possible. Everyone’s mental health looks so different. What might need temporary help for one person might require lifelong care for another.

Personally, I feel great. I feel healthier and happier than I ever have. The group of friends that I have are ones that I would call my “forever friends.” The things that I’m doing and planning right now are setting me up for my life, rather than just for next month or next year. I’m genuinely recovering. However, I still have my depression and I still take medication.

Like every human on the face of the Earth, I have bad days. Like every person who’s ever gone through a treatment or recovery, I have moments of weakness. You put being a human together with the natural rollercoaster that is “getting better” and VIOLA! You’ve got some perfect storms brewing!

My depressive episodes are nothing like what they were at 16. Even though I occasionally get sassy with my family (Sorry, guys), they’re mostly full of tears and isolation. Here’s an example: During a depressive episode, I won’t change my clothes for 3 days. I’ll sit and cry over seemingly small things, do everything in my power to stay in my bed, and lash out when someone tries to motivate me. Then, I’ll start feeling bad for not working out, showing up for the business, or blowing my friends off and I’ll cry some more. I eat as many carbs as I can find, which I subsequently will beat myself up for later. All of this is separated by about 4 two-hour naps throughout the day to aid my emotional exhaustion.

The aftermath of a few days of depressive episode. Honestly, this is pretty tame compared to other times. I removed the Taco Bell wrappers pre-photoshoot 😉

I don’t want you to pity me. I want you to look at this situation for what it is: reality. To be honest, my episodes are pretty mild compared to those who suffer from bipolar disorder or those who haven’t had any sort of mental health treatment. Episodes look different on everyone, but I can promise with 100% certainty that they’re never glorious

I’m lucky. My family and friends are loving enough for me to approach and explain how I’m feeling to them. We openly talk about mental health a lot. But, being able to explicitly say, “I’m not okay and need some time,” is never easy! If you’re years into this battle or just starting off, speaking the fact that you’re having a little bit of a breakdown into verbal existence can be extremely difficult. But, it can also lead to much easier communication down the road. You don’t owe anyone an in-depth look at your psyche, but simply saying that you need time and space is neither selfish nor rude.

I’ve been hesitant to share my breakdowns on social media. I’m supposed to be a mental health blogger and aspiring coach. In my head, that means I’m supposed to have this knowledge that makes me valuable to you. You know what, though? I have breakdowns. I have moments of weakness when I cry over getting the wrong taco (seriously, that happened). I have times when there’s total chaos and I’m not as centered in my life as I would want to be. But, above all, I am human.

Reading this, right now, so are you. You are a human being with feelings, emotions, weaknesses, strengths, blood, guts, and boogers all making up this beautiful thing that is you. You get to have moments of tears where you don’t need to flex your muscles. Because you are human, you are bound to have moments when life hits a little too hard. It could be a depressive episode, an anxiety attack, a breakdown, or just a big bitch fit. Guess what? It is OKAY.

We’re not going to stay in that space, though. We’re not going to waste time letting life beat us up. We’ll let out a few cuss words or tears and get back up. Got it? It’s not about what the episode looks like. It’s about how you recover from it. Because yeah, I might have cried over a taco, but you’re damn sure I got Taco Bell right after that.

How has your mental health been? Are you flying high, experiencing a little bit of an episode, or chilling somewhere in the middle? Connect with me on any of my social media accounts below. I want to hear your story!

Edited by Vanessa Reza. Contact information can be found on the “Work With Me” page.

To A High School Grad, Sincerely 5 Years Later

Don’t Worry, Be Happy

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My brother and I were pondering what could be the most contradictory message that I could sharenon my blog. Maybe something like “You Shouldn’t Talk About Your Mental Health,” where I advocate for everyone keeping their traps shut. There are already many people in this world who spend their time writing articles with titles such as “Depression is a Choice,” so I think we have that base covered. Then I started to realize, I should probably write that contradictory blog. I should probably address all the people that scroll through my website and roll their eyes.

No, I’m not going to sit here and side with you. First off, it would piss off quite a few people who trust me to write with an open mind and heart when approaching something as delicate as our mental states. Secondly, I wholeheartedly disagree. Every single blog that I write has a goal of connecting to your inner self, your mental health, and your mind. If you don’t believe that some people might face some problems in that department then maybe this blog will change your mind. Seeing the world as more than just a binary of “happy” and “sad” will seriously change your life.

My parents knew almost nothing about depression when I first started my high school cry for help. They didn’t say they were clueless. They definitely didn’t know what to do or where to start when it came to addressing a situation that was unraveling before their eyes. Like most in their generation, they were raised to rub some dirt on it, wipe away tears, and get back up again. For all intents and purposes, this isn’t a terrible mindset to have. I mean, these are the men and women who have fought a couple of wars and whose parents survived the Great Depression. Was there really another way?

Generally speaking, in their generation, problems were dealt with in the home. Even then, no one really had the resources, technology, or knowledge about mental health to advocate for it or understand it like we do now. We constantly say that more and more people have mental illnesses now, but what if people just weren’t willing to be anything other than “normal?”

All that being said, my parents are definitely outliers amongst their peers. When others didn’t really understand or support my confusing disdain for everything around me, my dad was driving the mental health support train with my mom blowing the whistle. I’m blessed. People often applaud me for being open about my mental health journey, but they never think to applaud my parents for taking the leap with me. Being so vocal about my experiences has meant putting some really vulnerable moments online that people don’t always understand, especially when they think that I just wake up every day and choose to have depression or anxiety.

Yes, I did have pink hair & no, I don’t regret it.

I was probably 19 when I first had someone ask why I couldn’t just be happy. The look on their face was a mix of judgement and genuine curiosity. I’ve gotten the whole “I would NEVER take medicine,” thing too many times to count. I still tease my mom about saying “I think you should just get some exercise and you’d feel way better,” when she started to notice my mood shift downward.

If there was any possible way that I could wake up, press a button, and decide my diagnoses wouldn’t bother me that day, I would do so in a heartbeat. I’m going to take a leap of faith in saying that literally every single person that has a mental illness would do the same thing. I absolutely don’t blame people for not feeling like medicine is their thing. It’s not my thing either! But damn, you don’t wanna hang out with this homegirl without her meds because it’s what WORKS FOR ME! Also, I would love to just sweat/eat right/meditate/sleep/work all of it out, but that’s not how it works.

Mental illness is exactly that: mental. You can’t see my social anxiety from across the room at the doctor’s office, but it’s very much there and it’s very much real! That classic Bob Marley song that I conveniently used as the title for this blog also used to piss me off when I was younger because I was worrying all the time which in turn made me the exact opposite of happy. You know the one. I get it. It’s a song. It’s supposed to make you feel good. But, just because you haven’t felt mental illness in your mind or coursing through your body doesn’t make the experience less real for someone else.

I haven’t personally broken my leg, but I understand that it would probably hurt. I don’t need to feel my bone break to believe in that kind of pain or suffering. More importantly, I trust the opinion of doctors that study and treat those people in the best way that they know how. Does a psychologist need to put someone’s head in a cast to have the world believe that you can’t just wake up and be healed? Maybe I’m comparing apples and oranges, but if someone asked why you can’t just choose to start running on your broken leg you wouldn’t know where to start. If they shamed you for taking ibuprofen because when THEY broke their leg THEY didn’t have to, how would you feel? If they told you to just get some more sleep and it would go away, what would you say?

So yeah, don’t worry and be happy, my friends. But know, that there’s a time and place where you or the people around you can’t easily fit into the mold that is “happy.” Understanding each other is the first step in advocacy for mental illness. Even if you’re lucky enough to not have a first hand experience with mental illness, knowledge in the fact that there’s not just two camps of “happy” and “sad” can go a long way in how we love and treat one another.

Even if this blog still seems like some sort of persuasive essay and you still haven’t been convinced, I hope you’ll take a look at resources like National Alliance on Mental Illness who can say all this stuff more technically and less based on personal experience. Moral of the blog: I hope you never ever question why someone’s “choosing” to be sad. I hope you tell your kids, grandma, dog, lizard, succulent, and any other life form that will listen that happiness isn’t a choice. It’s something that you work at. Some of us just need a little support in that department.

Here at EmyD you’ll see an ongoing narrative that if you’re trying your best, no one can ask anything else of you. That goes for happiness too. If you’re trying your best to get up, show up, and just survive, in whatever that looks like right now, I’m proud of you!

Have you ever felt misunderstood or misrepresented in your mental state? Even after explanations, examples, and tears? You are not alone! Connect with me on any of the social below – I want to hear your story!

Edited by Vanessa Reza. Contact info can be found on the ‘Contact Me’ page.

Can you be Intelligent AND Emotional?

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I have a habit of crying when I’m going through something. I mean, I’m a blogger. I should be able to use all of the adjectives, nouns, and adverbs to accurately express how I’m feeling before I get that upset, right? Lately, though, I’ve been having these overwhelming moments where it’s hard for me to separate my emotion from my narrative. It’s difficult for me to say what I really mean without adding some tears behind it.

Normally, this would be a journal post. It would just be a couple pages of scribbles before bed that I would sleep on and only think about when I went to therapy a month later. Normally, this wouldn’t make me think twice. But, I am. I’m thinking twice, three, even four times about this. Why is my mind so caught up on separating an emotional thought from an intellectual one? This week, I officially verbalized that my frustration is that I’ve never felt I could be emotional and intellectual at the same time – even though they are huge parts of who I am as a person. So, the question remains, can you really be intelligent and emotional at the same time?

Not to toot my own horn, but I’ve always been a little too smart for my own good. Take that at face value, of course. I didn’t graduate medical school at 14 or invent something to change the world, but I pride myself on being smart. I let everyone around me know from about the time that I could formulate words together.

After confirming with my parents, I would also say that I’m fiercely independent. So much so that I began to subconsciously believe that the things that my parents wanted me to succeed at were things that I did alone – swim, school, theatre. That’s a conversation we had behind closed doors, but we all agreed that I was obsessed with things that I could do all by myself and take all the glory for. I seem like a gem, right?

I didn’t start getting outwardly emotional until I felt it well up inside me and had nowhere to put it. Part of adolescence is learning how to effectively express your emotion without punching a hole through your wall or slamming your entire body on the floor. I failed in this area. Sure, maybe my behavior wasn’t as visible to the public eye, but my way of dealing with any emotion was to bottle it up, let it fester, and eventually let it come bursting out on whatever family member was closest.

I started using the phrase “I cry because I’m frustrated,” a lot throughout my late teens and very early 20s. I was especially using them in romantic relationships when prodded about why I was getting so upset. Essentially, I was telling my partner, the world, and anyone that would listen that when I’m emotional I’m not able to coherently speak my truth. Damn, did I believe that truth for so long.

Fast forward to a couple years later and my twenty third year of existence, I’m feeling more woke than ever. I feel more in touch with my emotions and my intelligence in ways that I never thought that I would before. There are moments, though, that make me realize there are still wounds from my past that still need a remedy. There are still issues that I need to realize, accept, speak out loud, and move on from.

Like I said before, I’ve been getting really emotional for reasons that seemingly go over my head. My dad recently said I’ve been “overreacting” and I reacted as if he called me the worst curse name in the book. I couldn’t understand what triggered me in that scenario to make me SO upset.

You can look through my blog feed and learn a little bit about a past relationship that shaped who I am as a person today. I feel so strong and healthy that it’s hard to imagine that there’s still realizations for me to make about why I said or did something all those years ago. There are still connections that I can make to help me better understand myself in all of my relationships.

This is right around the time that I completely compartmentalized intelligent thoughts and emotional ones – never allowing the two to meet.

In those formative years, I thought that I had to make a clear distinction between emotion and intelligence. Every time I let a tear escape my water line, my argument suddenly became a little less valid. When conversations needed to be had, it was to be done without tears and without too much emotion behind my words. Twenty year old Emily began to link emotion to weakness and intelligence to strength. I started to hold my tongue when I knew the tears were coming. I started to question my intelligence if I felt anything in my head. Most of all, I started to question who I was as a person.

Now, my dad never taught me to think like this, nor did he mean any harm in saying that I was overreacting. But, he did unleash a dragon that felt like her intelligence and emotion could not coincide in the same castle – which absolutely destroyed me.

Let’s just get something abundantly clear here; and I’m saying this just as much for you as I am for me. I am a grown-ass, educated woman. I can properly express how I’m feeling because I know the words to do so, I’ve been practicing them since I was way too smart for my own age, remember? I don’t need anyone to write my narrative for me or tell the world how they think I feel. Got it? That being said, I am a grown-ass, educated woman! So, me crying because I feel bad does not diminish my intelligence level. If I feel the urge to cry, I can cry! If I feel the need to scream, I can scream! Having emotion does not equate to a lower intelligence level, nor does it make your argument weaker.

You know you’ve felt that prickle behind your eyes of tears at exactly the wrong time, but what exactly makes it the wrong time? Tears can help us put up clear boundaries of where our heart and minds want to go, even when society is pushing us to keep going. Tears can help signal to the world that you fucking care! Tears can tell stories that sometimes, even all the words in the dictionary can’t be strung together to tell. You, my beautiful reader, are not less because of the emotion that you let out of your body. It’s what you do with that emotion, how you harness it, and how you put it back into the world that makes or breaks you. Because emotion and intellect together, they are an extremely powerful thing.

Smart & I cry a lot…. I won’t be sorry for that.

So, I’m no scientist. I haven’t looked at the scans of a brain with all the colors to give an official answer. But, if I could put all my money on one argument it would be: Yes, you CAN be intelligent and emotional all at the same time. Furthermore, anyone that’s telling you otherwise is scared of how powerful you are when you are both… I’m just saying.

Have you ever had a problem separating your intellectual thought from your emotional ones? If so, why are you separating them? Get into the DMs of any of the socials below to tell me your story!

Edited by Vanessa Reza. Contact info can be found on the ‘Contact Me’ page.

I Was Scared of Working Out

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I gained an exceptional amount of weight in a short amount of time. I packed on about 60 pounds in three years. It doesn’t sound like a ton when you’re reading it, but it felt like a hell of a lot when I was looking in the mirror.

This is the part of the blog when everyone gets excited because I’m about to uncover the magic recipe to how I lost 60+ pounds quickly and easily. It’s the blog where I tell you how you can unlock the secret too.

A day when I was celebrating two of my favorite people getting married and I look back and I remember how scared I was to take care of myself. I remember how sad I was behind that smile.

SIKE. This is the blog where I get unbelievably vulnerable about the “rock bottom” of my relationship with weight. It’s about the photos that I would cry over, because I had no idea where to start. I hated every single part of my body which in turn made me hate myself as a whole. In the perfect story, this would be the part where I went to the gym everyday, only ate things that were green, and lost all that weight and then some. Honestly, though, I was terrified of working out.

I would say I am decently athletic. I’m no marathon runner, but I could swim some damn laps. I wasn’t necessarily a star, but if I put my mind to it I would at least be better than average.

When I looked in the mirror and saw inches in places that I had never seen, I couldn’t even imagine myself back in the pool. Do people get back in the pool when they’ve retired from their high school swimming career? Where do ‘fat’ people go to buy workout clothes? My Nike shorts were so tight at this point that there was no possible way that I would be seen at my local YMCA. So, seriously, where do you start? At that point, I couldn’t even get in touch with the bones holding me together. I felt gigantic. All I wanted to feel was tiny.

At that point in my life, I needed to work out to lose weight. I didn’t care about my health – mental, emotional, or otherwise. Working out because I loved myself wasn’t something I would learn for a long, long time.

When I started to rationalize that paying $15.00 for an Uber was better than walking 3 blocks to the bars, I realized I had a problem. It wasn’t because I had heels on… When I gained a bunch of weight, I didn’t like wearing heels anymore. It definitely wasn’t because I was too drunk. Nope, I just got all sweaty walking a relatively small distance.

So, I had to start at home. I had to do something in the privacy of my own home that I could sweat unbelievably hard and quit after just 10 minutes. (If you’re looking for a workout that you can do at your own pace but that gets you GOING check out TheFitnessMarshall) I started following women who were in the same place that I was in. They validated me, knowing that I wasn’t able to do everything I previously was able to, but they also inspired me to work hard.

https://www.instagram.com/p/B3pql2ijfJY/

Slowly, I started to feel like I could do more. I made it to the YMCA and worked out in front of people for the first time. I felt totally out of my element and I was extremely aware of the amount of sweat falling from my face onto the machines. I loved looking up those body transformations on Instagram and dreaming about what it must be like.

I started to see actual changes; little toned up muscles here and there. I started to dance a little longer at Latin Night without feeling like I was actually going to die. The accounts that I followed started to multiply and turn into body positive ones.

A big part of fixing my fear of working out in public was fixing my mind. It was convincing myself that people weren’t watching every step that I was taking on the elliptical. I healed emotional wounds that led me to a bunch of binge eating fits. I reformed my inner dialogue after many sessions of therapy.

It wasn’t easy. I tried to take the easy way out with pills or crash diets just to see a different number on the scale and avoid facing that fear. I still have days when I have to work incredibly hard on my positive inner dialogue when I look in the mirror. There are still days when I avoid my workout at all costs because I still can’t do two hours like I could when I was 15.

But now, working out is something I get up and plan. It’s something that I want to do. Now I am an ambassador for FNXFit – a role where I can prove that supplements and gear aren’t limited to one type of person. I am an example that any body type can benefit from fitness. I am a member of a gym that I love (even if I’ve had to get really creative while staying home).

I’m still carrying a lot more weight than I want to be carrying, but I’m not scared of the starting point. I don’t have to hate my body anymore. I am not terrified of the workout. In fact, there’s even times I crave it.

You can also get involved with FNXFit by trying out any of their amazing supplements or gear. I’m not kidding when I say it made me feel like a total beast & made me actually want to workout! My current favorite is Recharge preworkout in Blackberry Lemonade. You can use my code “emyd” at checkout for an additional 15% off your entire purchase!

What is your relationship with working out look like? Are you having trouble getting into the gym? Contact me on any of my socials below to tell me your story!

Edited by Vanessa Reza. Contact info can be found on the ‘Contact Me’ page!

Tag: mentalhealth

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