My innocence was taken from me when I was fifteen. My first love abused me and broke my heart. He tore me to pieces. I expected my next boyfriend, my best friend, to save me, but he didn’t believe the stories. I had been sexually, physically, and emotionally tattered, and the one person I really trusted turned away.
I sunk into a deep depression, losing my worth, losing my sanity. I didn’t see value in myself. I thought of myself as no one, nothing. I thought I was insignificant. I spent days in bed sleeping or keeping my nose in a book. I lived through the novels I read. I pushed my family away, yelling at them and blaming them for what was happening to me. I once kicked a hole in the wall and screamed bloody murder. This was my downfall. I crumbled and fell apart.
I lost who I was. I was no longer the outgoing, sweet, friendly and funny girl I had once been. The girl I used to be withered and sunk to the bottom of the pit. It felt like she was gone. I didn’t see her. All I saw were tears, loneliness, sadness, darkness, and death.
When I was sixteen, I planned my suicide attempt. I told myself I would just be gone and the pain would leave me. I thought no one would miss me anyway. I didn’t feel like there was anything to live for. I saw no value in whom I was as a person and believed the world would have been a better place without me. What did I have to offer the world?
I waited until the middle of the night to go down to the kitchen to grab a knife. I pressed the knife taut to my left wrist and took a deep breath. My heart raced and pumped through my chest. But I sat still. I stared at the knife’s glare for a minute or two. Then in my disgust, I threw it across the tile floor. I hugged my knees and bowed my head as I cried like I never had before. I sat in the bathtub for a while, just crying, breathing, realizing what I had done.
After my suicide attempt, I prayed and prayed so hard to be saved. I wanted to be redeemed. I wanted to look death in the eyes and say, “I’m not worthless.” Although the days to come were rough, having been diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, depression, and an anxiety disorder, I felt relieved that my feelings weren’t out of the blue and all in my head. For the past four years, I’ve been medicated on a high dose of Prozac, despite the dangers of its side effects.
I tried to get off of my medications a few different times. I was ashamed of feeling like the drug was my crutch. I thought if I could be off my medication, I would feel normal like everyone else. But that didn’t happen. And slowly I realized that I wasn’t ever going to be “normal.” I always felt different and now I knew why.
Some days I feel out of control. Some days I sit and cry for a long time. Some days I feel great and I’m happier than ever. There are many times when I don’t know if I’ll get through the day without hurting myself.
But I know that I have to fight. It’s not all about me anymore. I know now that my family would miss me. They would fall to pieces. My friends would feel a gaping hole from my passing. My boyfriend would have the space next to him in his bed never filled by me again. I wouldn’t exist anymore, only to be remembered as “that girl who killed herself.”
No, I have to fight because I don’t want anyone to feel as alone as I felt. I don’t want anyone to feel so alienated by a mental disorder like I was. The stigma attached to mental illness needs to be annihilated. It’s time for it to end. I’m here because I can see the real beauty in life through my friends and family. Because of my journey, my biggest goal in life is to inspire other people to stay strong. Being strong doesn’t have to mean never having bad days. Those days happen all the time.
Real strength is fighting back by living and breathing. Sharing stories. Inspiring people. And because of my inner strength and those that I love, I’m still fighting today. Whether you’re a suicide survivor, a cancer survivor, or a survivor of the struggles of everyday life, you can always find true hope and fight.
Thursday, February 26, 2015
Tuesday, February 24, 2015
Tuesday, February 10, 2015
Mirrors are funny. Sometimes I can look in the mirror and LOVE the way my legs look. So what if they’re muscular? Other times, I can look at them and think, “Look at those disgusting thunder thighs and all that cellulite.” My brain does that with every part of my body though, nothing is safe from harsh scrutiny. After I was diagnosed, my mom took away all the mirrors….that was about a year ago. Now I have a full body mirror in my dorm room. People say the way it’s angled makes them look skinnier than normal, and I can’t help but hope the opposite. I could spend days crying in front of that mirror. Hoping, waiting for the day I could be happy with all of me. With or without my disorder.
Wednesday, September 10, 2014
Healing the Heart
I want to thank you, foremost, for being brave. A website/blog like this takes courage. The TCU Counseling Center is lacking something strong and personal like this, and I feel like this will revolutionize how mental health is seen on campus. There is absolutely a stigma about mental health, not only at TCU but all around the world. As a nursing major hoping to one day be a Nurse Practitioner in Mental Health, I shouldn't be ashamed of my own history of struggle with emotional traumas, but I am. I tried going to the TCU Counseling Center, but each time I was self-conscious about people that saw me going in the door, people who saw me walking out the door, and especially those in the waiting area. In the waiting area it is almost as if each of us is sitting around trying to guess the others' problems: "Does she have an eating disorder?", "Is he depressed?", "Was she raped?", "Is she a cutter?". All these things and more. Despite the talent of the mental professionals and counselors at the Heath Center and Counseling Center, there is still such a sense of demise and embarrassment when you walk in. Like you've given up "doing it on your own" and need "help," and worst of all: now everyone knows it. After leaving the Counseling Center last year, I suppose someone saw me leaving, because at least three friends texted me asking me if everything was okay. As glad as I was that I had friends that cared, I was more embarrassed than anything that they knew something was wrong. Maybe it wasn't even that something was wrong, but maybe just that something wasn't right. That is why I was so relieved that TCU FrogSpeak began. Not only is a journal a way of healing the heart, but as a blog, it is a way to share your story with others who have gone through the same thing. I appreciate the mission of FrogSpeak and cannot wait to see what amazing and life-changing success it will absolutely have on TCU's campus and in the world.
Wednesday, August 20, 2014
This Too Shall Pass
If you asked me how it started, I would not be able to answer. I’m still trying to figure that out myself. It seemed like it was just one thing after the other, like dominos falling on top of each other. Before I knew it, I was at my lowest weight I had ever been. I did not realize how out of control I was until I saw a picture of myself. The angles of my face were sharp, my elbows were bony, veins could be seen in my legs and arms, and my smile in the photo was not real. I hate that photo. Seeing that photo was the mirror that I had been wanting for so many years so I could see myself for how others saw me. I looked scary and seeing that photo was my wake up call. I knew I SERIOUSLY needed to change.
Through my recovery process I have learned that progress is only made when the person going through recovery WANTS CHANGE. I have tried so many times before to get my weight back up and I would lose weight again. Looking back on those times, I said I wanted to get better but I would not let myself. I was feeling the pressure from people around me to get outside help to get better. I would do it but only to try to relieve the pressure I was feeling around me. I was never doing it FOR ME. After seeing that photo of myself, I wanted to improve my health FOR ME. I was tired of being unhappy with myself and I was finally ready to seriously change my life. A mentor once told me “you have to want it more than breathing”, and that’s how badly I wanted to change.
I will be the first to say that change is not easy. You have to change in all aspects of your life—mentally and physically. There are a lot of days when you feel really crappy about yourself. But there are also days when you feel really awesome about yourself too. Those days when you feel great about yourself happen more often. To get you through the ups and downs of recovery, it’s important you have a good support system behind you. Family, friends, and third party sources such as doctors or therapists become your own personal cheerleaders that help you through your recovery.
Visualizing myself as a healthier person has kept me going through my recovery. Even through the bad days I kept telling myself “this too shall pass”. I share my experience with you because I once heard Robin Roberts say, “Make your mess your message.” My message to people suffering from eating disorders is that while change is scary, it will be the best decision you will have ever made. Sometimes change is necessary in order to achieve happiness in your life and most importantly within yourself.
Through my recovery process I have learned that progress is only made when the person going through recovery WANTS CHANGE. I have tried so many times before to get my weight back up and I would lose weight again. Looking back on those times, I said I wanted to get better but I would not let myself. I was feeling the pressure from people around me to get outside help to get better. I would do it but only to try to relieve the pressure I was feeling around me. I was never doing it FOR ME. After seeing that photo of myself, I wanted to improve my health FOR ME. I was tired of being unhappy with myself and I was finally ready to seriously change my life. A mentor once told me “you have to want it more than breathing”, and that’s how badly I wanted to change.
I will be the first to say that change is not easy. You have to change in all aspects of your life—mentally and physically. There are a lot of days when you feel really crappy about yourself. But there are also days when you feel really awesome about yourself too. Those days when you feel great about yourself happen more often. To get you through the ups and downs of recovery, it’s important you have a good support system behind you. Family, friends, and third party sources such as doctors or therapists become your own personal cheerleaders that help you through your recovery.
Visualizing myself as a healthier person has kept me going through my recovery. Even through the bad days I kept telling myself “this too shall pass”. I share my experience with you because I once heard Robin Roberts say, “Make your mess your message.” My message to people suffering from eating disorders is that while change is scary, it will be the best decision you will have ever made. Sometimes change is necessary in order to achieve happiness in your life and most importantly within yourself.
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
You have permission to find yourself beautiful
I cannot pinpoint the moment it happened, it was sort of like a slide. I started slowly and gained momentum until it was almost too late. I think that is how most addictions begin. You do one thing, like the way it feels, do it again and before you know it that small thing consumes every thought, every action, and is your life.
I remember sitting in my fourth grade math class and noticed my arm was jiggling. I spent about the next 20 minutes looking at every other girls’ arm in my class to see if theirs were jiggling too. That was the first time my weight distracted me from normal life. I went through middle school and high school always concerned about my weight, but never considered myself anorexic. I ate but I didn’t like the way I felt after I finished eating. It was not until the end of my senior year of high school that I began to slowly fall down the slide that is anorexia nervosa.
I had just gone through my first big ‘break-up’ and I found myself struggling to find joy in everyday life. I was so depressed I couldn’t even get myself to eat dinner and as a result of a limited appetite, I began to lose weight. For the first time in a few months I found something to get excited about…going down a pant size! Before I knew it, I could not go a minute without thinking about my weight. I would not chew gum because I knew it had calories; I would skin my grapes because I figured that would save calories; and I ran EVERY TIME food went into my mouth. I ate an apple, I ran five miles. Two months later I had shed 30 lbs, went from a size 6 to a size 2, and was told my heart was in danger.
For the last two months of summer I went to therapy every week, had a personal nutritionist, and I was not allowed to exercise. By the end of summer I had gained 15 lbs and was considered “healthy enough” to go to college—to make a long story short.
Things started off great at TCU! I was making friends, rarely thought about my weight and always reviewed the notes my therapist sent me. I was right on track to recovery. It was not until Halloween 2010, that the slide I had begun to crawl back up took a turn for the worse and I was sliding back down. I can’t remember the exact moment I fell back into the disease, but before I knew it I was throwing up in my room, working out after every meal, feeling sick every time I looked into a mirror, and eating a diet that consisted of lettuce, apples and water. By Thanksgiving break I was at 95 lbs and had lost 20 lbs in one month. I remember the tears in my mom’s eyes as she picked me up from the airport and noticed the weight loss. Her daughter was at it again.
Looking back I think the hardest part of the disease was seeing how much it affected my family. My parents are the best parents anyone could ask for. Therapist after therapist would question me about them as if they were trying to place the blame on my mom and dad for being “too controlling” or “too critical”. That was most definitely not the case. Believe it or not, you can have an eating disorder and have a great family and home life. I had an unhealthy relationship with control and with food. Plain and simple.
I spent the next year and half overcoming both anorexia and bulimia, and it will be 2 years this June that I have been “sober” from both addictions! It is not like life is all smooth sailing now. I will ALWAYS struggle with food. I will ALWAYS feel the need to work out after I eat. I will ALWAYS have an unhealthy relationship with food. It is being strong enough to remind yourself that there is more to life than being rail thin that stops you from acting upon those demons.
I think the best thing anyone ever told me was “you have permission to eat”. Oddly enough, having someone say that to your face in the middle of such dark times does something to you. I know everyone is different, but I hope anyone who reads this knows there is more to beauty than being skinny. You are created the way you are for a specific reason and trying to change that will only kill you. You have permission to eat. You have permission to find yourself beautiful.
I remember sitting in my fourth grade math class and noticed my arm was jiggling. I spent about the next 20 minutes looking at every other girls’ arm in my class to see if theirs were jiggling too. That was the first time my weight distracted me from normal life. I went through middle school and high school always concerned about my weight, but never considered myself anorexic. I ate but I didn’t like the way I felt after I finished eating. It was not until the end of my senior year of high school that I began to slowly fall down the slide that is anorexia nervosa.
I had just gone through my first big ‘break-up’ and I found myself struggling to find joy in everyday life. I was so depressed I couldn’t even get myself to eat dinner and as a result of a limited appetite, I began to lose weight. For the first time in a few months I found something to get excited about…going down a pant size! Before I knew it, I could not go a minute without thinking about my weight. I would not chew gum because I knew it had calories; I would skin my grapes because I figured that would save calories; and I ran EVERY TIME food went into my mouth. I ate an apple, I ran five miles. Two months later I had shed 30 lbs, went from a size 6 to a size 2, and was told my heart was in danger.
For the last two months of summer I went to therapy every week, had a personal nutritionist, and I was not allowed to exercise. By the end of summer I had gained 15 lbs and was considered “healthy enough” to go to college—to make a long story short.
Things started off great at TCU! I was making friends, rarely thought about my weight and always reviewed the notes my therapist sent me. I was right on track to recovery. It was not until Halloween 2010, that the slide I had begun to crawl back up took a turn for the worse and I was sliding back down. I can’t remember the exact moment I fell back into the disease, but before I knew it I was throwing up in my room, working out after every meal, feeling sick every time I looked into a mirror, and eating a diet that consisted of lettuce, apples and water. By Thanksgiving break I was at 95 lbs and had lost 20 lbs in one month. I remember the tears in my mom’s eyes as she picked me up from the airport and noticed the weight loss. Her daughter was at it again.
Looking back I think the hardest part of the disease was seeing how much it affected my family. My parents are the best parents anyone could ask for. Therapist after therapist would question me about them as if they were trying to place the blame on my mom and dad for being “too controlling” or “too critical”. That was most definitely not the case. Believe it or not, you can have an eating disorder and have a great family and home life. I had an unhealthy relationship with control and with food. Plain and simple.
I spent the next year and half overcoming both anorexia and bulimia, and it will be 2 years this June that I have been “sober” from both addictions! It is not like life is all smooth sailing now. I will ALWAYS struggle with food. I will ALWAYS feel the need to work out after I eat. I will ALWAYS have an unhealthy relationship with food. It is being strong enough to remind yourself that there is more to life than being rail thin that stops you from acting upon those demons.
I think the best thing anyone ever told me was “you have permission to eat”. Oddly enough, having someone say that to your face in the middle of such dark times does something to you. I know everyone is different, but I hope anyone who reads this knows there is more to beauty than being skinny. You are created the way you are for a specific reason and trying to change that will only kill you. You have permission to eat. You have permission to find yourself beautiful.
A Simple Conversation
This past year, I had a friend commit suicide. To be honest, I didn’t even believe it when I got the call from one of my friends after it had happened. He was always so loving and caring to everyone around him that it shielded his inner depression from the world. Apparently he had been suffering with depression for quite some time and had also been battling other issues as well: anger, alcohol abuse, etc. This really hit me hard because I had no idea he was suffering.
After I got off the phone with my friend, I immediately began to blame myself for not reaching out to him more. I should have jumped on more opportunities to talk to him. I should have invested more of my time getting to know him. I should have been a better friend. However, I realized that blaming myself wouldn’t change the situation. Therefore I started devoting more of my time to others around me. I began serving more at my church by becoming a leader of first impressions for the college/career ministry there. In this position, I was able to meet so many different people, which provided me the opportunity to speak encouragement in their lives. I have learned that through the giving of myself, I have received more than I could have ever imagined.
Sometimes a simple conversation can have a big impact on individual’s lives. A one-minute chat could mean the world to another person, just because it shows you care enough to talk to them. I hope and pray that people understand the importance and value in investing time in other people. Individuals suffering with depression, anxiety, anger, grief, stress, etc. have to be able to understand that they are not alone.
After I got off the phone with my friend, I immediately began to blame myself for not reaching out to him more. I should have jumped on more opportunities to talk to him. I should have invested more of my time getting to know him. I should have been a better friend. However, I realized that blaming myself wouldn’t change the situation. Therefore I started devoting more of my time to others around me. I began serving more at my church by becoming a leader of first impressions for the college/career ministry there. In this position, I was able to meet so many different people, which provided me the opportunity to speak encouragement in their lives. I have learned that through the giving of myself, I have received more than I could have ever imagined.
Sometimes a simple conversation can have a big impact on individual’s lives. A one-minute chat could mean the world to another person, just because it shows you care enough to talk to them. I hope and pray that people understand the importance and value in investing time in other people. Individuals suffering with depression, anxiety, anger, grief, stress, etc. have to be able to understand that they are not alone.
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