From A Point Of View

Every once in awhile my husband have a very deep conversation. I'm talking mental scars and unsung anguish deep. It always happens very naturally, and he's always patient as I try to piece an indescribable moment into a befuddled jumble of nouns and verbs. Sometimes it takes me awhile to draw a comparison and make it relatable.

But he always waits.

He wants so desperately to understand. He wants to empathize. He wants to be proactive to counter attack my inner demons.

And so he waits for words.

The hardest part for me in our relationship is communication and learning how to relay how I feel or think. Sometimes I don't have a clue why I feel how I do. But most times, I know the reason but it's easier to deny than face it.

Our latest talk involved something near and dear to probably most of us: Depression. What a fun topic, to say the least.

'What is the difference' He asked, 'between feeling depressed at a specific moment and having depression?'

'Well,' I leaned back and tried to carefully word my opinion, 'I think every person in their life feels depressed at some point. Feeling depressed is just a part of life. But it's different when you can shake it off, so to speak, and move on. See I can't do that. For me, it's a constant thing. And though I would never dismiss anyone's depression, I would say a constant depression causes more mental suffering than say a moment or time of being depressed. I hope that makes sense.' And I laugh and say I don't really know.

But, I kind of do.

I pause and say, 'I wish I knew what that was like.'

'What's that?' Link asks as he shifts in his chair.

I clasp my hands and look thoughtfully at the studs that run through the barn.

'What is it like to brush it off? What is it like to just wake up and not feel tired and feel ready for the day? What is it like to be happy and not have that knowledge that it's only very temporary and it will be taken away from me?'

'Well I have felt that way, waiting for the shoe to drop. Expecting an inevitable downfall.'

'Yes, but in that moment when you're laughing and you feel the euphoria of happiness, do you consciously think "this will be over soon and it will be taken from me"?'

'No, I suppose that's a bit different.' I can see him trying hard to empathize, trying to reach out and brush that nasty darkness away.

'You know, if your life had been different, you wouldn't even be conscious to the idea of depression. You wouldn't recognize how good you have it. I had good parents, so I thought that was normal and I took it for granted. You wouldn't even realive how good you have it.'

'But what is it like to be so blissfully ignorant? I wonder what it is like.' I close my eyes and my shoulders slump. 'I don't think people realize all the ways depression interferes with your day to day life. It affects everything about you - your personality, the way you think, what you believe, how you sleep, how you eat, heck even how your body digests food and the way you walk. Depression changes everything about you. When I walk, I have to remind myself "head up, shoulders out, walk straight and proud" because if I don't, I slump and try to hide as I stare at the ground and hope no one will notice me.'

Link listens thoughtfully, his fingers pressed together, touching his upper lip.

'I think that's the hardest part,' I continue, 'it changes you so much that it's hard sometimes to figure out where the depression ends and you begin.'

'You seem to have it figured out though,' Link replies, ' I mean, no one would look at you and know.'

'But it is such a struggle. It isn't something I can just pick up and put down. It's a constant mind game of convincing myself to take care of myself and to do things and that I am worth it in the end. You combine that with paranoia and crippling social anxiety and you've got it made!' I chuckle at the last bit.

'I'm not as paranoid as I used to be,' I say, 'I've gotten alot better.'

Link laughs in disbelief. 'Paranoia? That's not you. You aren't afraid of anyone.'

'When I first came here, I expected every customer to kill me. I had an escape plan laid out in my head everytime someone pulled in. It was worse when I was in the bakery and your mom was in the store. These fantasies in my head involved saving everyone, but in certain situations, I couldn't see how I could do that.'

Link just looks sad. 'Nothing ever happened.'

'No,' I reply, 'but the mental anguish was real and you've no idea how much that anguish hurt.'

I tear up briefly but stuff those tears back in where they belong.

Link leans back in his chair and I can see him trying to compose a question.

'You say you have good days and bad days and you seem to have more good than bad so doesn't that mean you're getting better?'

'I once read something that said when you have depression, you have neither good or bad, it just is. But me personally, I have good, meh, and bad. I count my good days and am thankful for every single one. Depression is a mental illness. It's a disease. It can destroy you. So I try my best to be conscious of my choices and how they feed my disease.'

I pause and gather my thoughts. ' I avoid people who bring me down or make me angry because that is not good for my mental health. I choose food that is proven to help depression like citrus and fruit. I leave the windows open all day and night because fresh air makes me feel good and clean. I avoid any unpleasant situation that can be easily avoided. I keep to my little group of safe people. I've built a world and place where I feel safe, where I can heal. Do I think one day I'll wake up and depression will be a faded memory? No. There are certain demons I'll always face and depression is one. But I can be conscious of it and counteract it.

I own my depression and it will never own me.."

'I'm sad and angry that you feel this way and there's nothing to stop it. It's wrong and not fair.' Link's fists clench and unclench. 'But I'm glad you talk to me about it and maybe I can't understand everything but at least you will never face this alone.'

'I feel that way sometimes. I feel trapped on the opposite side of a glass wall. It's really lonely.'

Link takes my hand and says, 'Never will you ever be alone. You're very strong.'

'I don't feel strong.' I reply.

He simply nods his head because he knows there's no reasoning to be had there.

It's in these moments, I break a crack into that glass wall and a part of me that is so inaccessible becomes a little more human like and a little bit less like a scary monster.

And I'll keep going and I'll keep trying because these moments with Link remind me that there's much more to be had.


"Getting better from depression demands a lifelong commitment. I've made that commitment for my life's sake and for the sake of those who love me." — Susan Polis Schutz

May the frets be with you.

Fat Shaming, Self Proclaiming

For my entire life I've struggled with positive body image. As a teenager, I saw myself as inferior and ugly in comparison to the other girls my age who rocked short shorts and belly button tops. Girls who could 'get away with it' and 'pull it off'.

I pretend I've beaten my skewed view and that I am confident in the person I am today. At least, I really believed I'd moved on and accepted positive body power. That is, until last weekend.

My husband and I are huge Nerds and one of our favorite pastimes is going to the medieval faire when it's in town. We do the whole shebang - costumes, back stories, accents. We have it down pat.

This year we were accompanied by my friend, Opal. Each weekend features a different theme and last weekend was time travel/steampunk. Being the dedicated fans we are, Opal and I went full on Doctor Who. I was the 10th doctor (insert romantic sigh here) and Opal was my Tardis.

The day started off wonderful and we were waved at and recognized. Things took a downward turn though, as Opal and I seperated from my Jedi Knight. As we were walking down the path, we heard one of the faire folk yelling at us. We thought he was complimenting our costumes, but once we got closer we heard him shout:

'You two need to switch costumes!' He shouted.
'Why?' Opal asked.
'Because,' He said gesturing my way, 'She's bigger than you and would make a better box.'

We were flabbergasted that he would say something like that. I shrugged it off and said it was whatever, but it bothered me. Obviously it bothered me enough because here I am writing about it.

That's not the first time I'd felt humiliated about my size. A few years earlier when I had just started going to the faire with Link, we met up some of his friends and as we were walking I heard them whispering 'Why is he with her? She's so much bigger than he is.'

After the box comment, the rest of the day was ruined and I fought back tears and I stood there feeling stupid for even trying to be cool. All I wanted was to hide.

I know some of you are probably thinking 'you can't let it bother you, it shouldn't matter'. You're right. It shouldn't matter. But it does because my size has been used to make me feel bad and guilty.

And I realized, I body shame myself. I catch myself saying things like:

'You wouldn't know it now, but I used to be thin'

'I can't wear long boots because my legs are too fat'

'Don't mind me, I'm a fatty mcfat-fat'

And I sit there clutching a pillow to my stomach so I hope no one will notice the way my tummy rolls when I sit down.

Yes, I am fat. I'm not unhealthy, I'm just chubby. I've got extra on my tummy that I've been trying for years to make disappear. I live with a body that has been used and abused for years due to my unhealthy mental perception of myself.

But the truth is, even when I was smaller, I still perceived myself as overweight and unattractive.

The reason I can't wear long boots is because my calves are thick due to heritage and my legs are strong and muscular. They are stronger than my husband's legs, and he is a fit man. But because they are thicker, I perceive them as fat and therefore undesirable.

The box comment was a huge blow to my self esteem and the time and effort I have put into changing the way I view myself.

When it really comes down to it, why does it matter if I'm bigger or smaller on the outside in comparison to others?

Shouldn't what's inside matter most? That my love is bigger than prejudice and hate? That my honor is bigger than manipulation and lies? That my intelligence is stronger than click bait sensationalism and media driven propaganda?

That my strength is bigger than these negative comments that both myself and others tell me?

I used to kid myself that if I was thinner, I'd be happier.

Happiness is not quantified by body mass.

I have so much more to offer this place than just my body fat.

How about happy mcjoy-joy instead of fatty mcfat-fat?

Maybe?

(And yes, I'd make a pretty awesome Tardis because I'm a pretty awesome fan)

May the frets be with you.

Born To Choose

I saw something on Facebook yesterday that really disturbed me. It was a status a friend of mine had shared. This status was from a women who talked about her life leading up to today. She talked about being raped at various stages of her childhood, turning to drugs and alcohol, and then becoming a satanist til God then intervened in her life and saved her. So far, it sounds like an amazing testimony. Until I saw the next line which read that God saved her so she could spread the word that being gay is a choice and that no one is born gay.

Her story is that because she was molested, she was afraid of men and she questioned her sexuality because she was attracted to women. She decided (made a choice) to pursue that feeling. She slept with as many women as she could and dared people of faith to attack her. And they did - she was bullied and persecuted for what she was doing.

Eventually she became saved and she says she was saved from the lie she was living. Now she is persecuted for turning the other way and changing her way of life. She says that she now understands both sides and she has a right to say being gay is a choice, not something you are born as.

This is a difficult subject to discuss. This woman has clearly lived a burdened life and been through many trials.

However.

I feel she is wrong for saying she has a right to say you cannot be born gay.

And here is why: I can tell a similar story.

I was raped and molested through out my childhood and early adult hood. The first porn that I ever saw was a magazine that belonged to my stepfather, who was also my abuser. I found it by accident when I was cleaning. It scared the life out of me. It confused me. It made me think and feel things that immediately made me feel ashamed and disgusting. I threw it away. But after years of being subject to sexual depravity and learning to associate sex with pain and love with rape, when I reached puberty and became a woman, I believed that I didn't like what he was doing because I was gay.

I cannot tell you the agony my teenage mind lived through during that period. It took years and living through a very bad dating relationship with a bad man to undo the damage of those years.

I am not gay. I am married to the love of my life, a strong, intelligent young man whom I would do anything for.

I did not make the same choices as the woman from above. She chose one path and I chose another. It could have easily gone either way. When a person destroys you and makes you into a toy for amusement...it changes you in more ways than you realize.

I have read articles of young women so traumatized and changed that yes, they do prefer the company of other women than men. I cannot blame them. Sometimes you cannot fix what has occured, you can only go forward and make a change. They changed, and they changed for the better and they found a way to move on with their life and make something positive out of a tragedy.

How dare you condemn that choice?

When I was in college, I spent many classes studying psychology; gender psychology, child psychology, basic psychology, etc. I took these classes trying to figure out more things about myself. Why was I how I was and what caused it? Along the way, we learned about the differences between males and females, brain wise. Did you know that male brains and female brains are shaped differently? They are. You can tell the difference between the two, not just by how the brain lights up when a person thinks or feels emotion, but also because of a unique structural difference. Now, did you know that we are all female at conception? That's why men have nipples that serve no function. They are left over from when they were females. How fascinating is that? I think that it is incredible.

For those of you who bash the idea that you cannot be born gay, have you ever taken time to do some research? Have you ever examined the differences between male and female brains?

It is biologically possible to have a female brain in a male body and vice versa. It is also possible to have a male mind with dominate female traits and vice versa.

So yes, I believe with all of my heart that you can be born gay. I also believe with all of my heart that you can choose to be gay.

If you are Christian, we live by the adage that God makes no mistakes and that He is the creator of all things.

If you believe that, how dare you say that the gay and lesbian population are mistakes and blasphemies of God?

There is not a righteous man among us, there is not a person who can call himself good. Yet you so easily condemn the people beside you?

How many have committed adultery? How many of lied? Stolen? Coveted? Used His name in vain?

Blasphemies.

So how dare you play God and condemn.

Jesus' message was simple: love, and show grace.

Everytime you use hateful speech toward any person or thing, you are walking over the very teaching you claim to promote.

In closing, I will share a Facebook post I wrote in response to the legalization of gay marriage:

"I am disappointed in many of my Christian friends who have very loudly voiced their opinions on the legalization of gay marriage. I'm talking about the hateful ones. The ones who bitterly insist that it is the gays fault our world is ending. 

Update people. When women earned the right to vote, it was the end of the world. May I respectfully remind you that biblically speaking women are to be silent when it comes to positions of power.

When African Americans earned their freedom it was the end of the world! It was 'unchristianlike' to be associated with them.

Perhaps go back further when divorce became legal. Need I remind that the Bible said no divorce save for adultery or infidelity.

The truth is people, it is not your job as a Christian to have an opinion. It is your job to walk as Jesus did with love and grace. No, you don't need to agree. You don't need to understand. But you do need to see these people for who they are - creations of God. Beautiful, beautiful creations who are human like the rest us.

It is not the gays fault our world is broken. We did it to ourselves and we do it every waking moment. This world is what we as a human race have created. 

So blame yourself.

Why do you think the world is divided? We pick things to fight about on purpose so we can feel more righteous about ourselves. 

Shame on all of us!!

I do not see Jesus in your hateful, ignorant posts. What then, is the point of your opinion when you automatically alienate those whom you desire to reach?"

Where is love?

We all make choices. Is there grace for your choice?

May the Frets be with you.

Where Is Love?

One of the hardest things in life is to be judged by your peers. The harsh, cruel judging - where you aren’t even given a chance and you are written off as a worthless nobody. It could be about your faith, the way you live, your personal choices, your past, and even the way you look.

You are judged.

You are ridiculed.

You are hated.

You are shut out from the world. You’ve become another dirty little secret no one likes to talk about.

What happened to love? Where is that love that transcends all things, knows no boundaries, overlooks all faults, and blooms life rather than destroys?

Where is the love of forgiveness? You can see a wrong, but you can love the person anyway. Maybe they didn’t know. Maybe they are still trying. Maybe you are still trying and haven’t quite gotten there.

Where is the love of compassion? We all know suffering. We all know loss, and you’d think that alone would unite us.

Where is the love of gentleness? Cruel words don’t make you tough - all they do is show the world how broken you really are. Tearing down another person doesn’t make you stronger. It will however, make you colder and more alone.

Where is the love of humility? Saying you are better does not justify you! We have all done wrong. We have all fallen. You know what it’s like. Kind words make a better bridge of healing than heartless, thoughtless ones.

And where, oh where, is the love of grace? Grace to understand a difference, grace to smooth a roughened edge, and grace to conquer hate and fear?

We are supposed to be a people of love; not blind love, not silly love, and not selfish love, but love that is pure.

I may not understand your choices, but I will love you anyway. I hope that you will love me too because I know you can never understand me.

A humble love, that acknowledges we are all the same - humans, struggling to find our identity in a world of ambiguity and darkness.

Where is love?

"If I can speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy
But I don't love, I'm nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate
If I speak God's word with power, revealing all His mysteries
And making everything as plain as day
And if I say to a mountain jump and it jumps
But I don't love, I'm nothing
If I give all I own to the poor
Or if I even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr
But I don't have love, I've gotten nowhere
So, no matter what we say, no matter what we believe, no matter what we do
We're bankrupt without love."1 Corinthians 13: 1-3

May the Frets be with you.

Restoration

I would like to tell you about my upcoming wedding. Part of the reason I haven't written on here as often is because of all the wedding planning. My fiance and I decided that we would plan it ourselves and make our own decorations and party favors to cut down on the cost of the wedding. I also decided to sew my own gown. Though I can proudly say we've saved thousands, I have to be honest and say it was more work than we expected. But, we have done it! and in sixty days I will stand at the altar and give myself to the love and light of my life.

First, I would like to tell you what led up to our meeting.

They say that wherever life leads you, whatever you go through, when you come out in the end you are exactly where you are supposed to be. Sometimes you are happy with it and sometimes you have to adjust and become okay with where you are at. I do believe that things eventually work out, no matter how far gone or out of touch you feel.

So let's start at the beginning. 

I have a lot of happy memories from my childhood. My favorite one is of a warm summer day. It was a little hazy out and the blue sky had big fluffy clouds of cotton spotted here and there. It wasn't too hot and there was a gentle breeze blowing. Me and my young brother Mac were on the front porch blowing bubbles. I was wearing a favorite shirt. It was quiet outside except for the birds and the occasional passing car. I remember watching the bubbles float away with the sunlight gleaming off of them. It made them look like little orbs of glass. That moment lives on in my memory and when I let myself, I am once again standing on the porch with Mac, watching those bubbles in peace and perfect innocence.

I hold onto this memory when the dark ones approach. 

My father died before I was born - just a week before I believe. I often wonder how different would things have been if he hadn't gone out that day. It isn't all sad though. Out of the broken comes the life and out of this pain I was blessed with brothers and a sister I would have never known.

I don't like to talk about the past. Sometimes it still feels so fresh and new. However, to understand the future we must understand the past, right? It would take many, many posts to explain in depth about what we suffered. So, for now, I will touch on some of the things that have impacted me the most.

My stepfather was very abusive. He was a monster. I cannot put a number on the times he hit me, pushed me, beat me, deprived me of sleep, and even starved me. He spent his time drilling into my brain that I was scum, a worthless human being that should be grateful for his instruction and care. He misused the Bible and manipulated it's words to fit his own evil agenda, be it discipline or sexual aggression. We were not allowed to be 'wordly' - no pants for the girls, no makeup, no jewelry, we couldn't cut our hair and we had to keep it covered up. We weren't even allowed to shave our legs. We had to wear shapeless dresses. The boys weren't allowed special clothing or fun t-shirts. Their heads were shaved. Just like prison.

When I was six years old, I was raped several times by this man who was supposed to be my protector. He threatened me afterward and warned me never to tell anyone or I would 'be in big, big trouble.' As I grew, the abuse escalated. He accused me of lying about everything. It didn't matter what the truth was - I was a liar and not to be trusted. So eventually I stopped denying my guilt and gave in. It was easier than fighting. Each time I gave in, I started to believe it a little more. That's when I developed my nervous eating habit. I took food from the pantry and ate some, would be angry with myself, and would dump the rest out the back window behind some bushes. I cannot describe what it was like the day he discovered it...Life itself was a trial. Everything made him angry, any sound would light his fuse - the crackling of grocery bags, the clinking of dishes, our laughter, our tears, the way we chewed our food.

One of the most painful things I remember is when he accused me of molesting my brothers. I was still at an age when I didn't even understand what that meant. The longer I 'lied' about doing it and denied my guilt, the worse the punishments would get, until one day I couldn't take anymore and admitted that I did. A part of me died that day, and it still brings tears to my eyes. I remember the day he took me to the hardware store and he bought some lumber. He took it home, took it to my bedroom and told me that he was downsizing my room. He was building me a cage - and he forced me to help him build it. He took away all my toys, books, and trinkets. He padlocked my closet. He screwed my windows shut. He left me with a blanket and a Bible and locked the door. He told me I was too evil to associate with the family, often beating me until my bruises began to bleed. I wasn't allowed near my brothers. My clothes were picked out for me. I ate there. When I had to go to the bathroom, I had to pound on the door until someone heard me. Sometimes I didn't make it. When I did, I wasn't allowed to close the door because who knew what I might do with the door shut! I don't even know how long this continued for because I lost track of the days. The summer went by, and the fall...and time seemed like an eternity. I used to sing the Psalms out loud. The joyful ones were my favorite. The ones that talked of love and freedom and the great joy David felt when he walked with God. I read the Bible front to back. I knew all the stories. It was the only solace that I had.

But time moves on and so do we and eventually the imprisonment did, too. The abuse got worse as his health began to decline. He had foot surgery and became addicted to his pain killers. It made him even more of a monster, if you can believe that. I will never forget looking into his eyes and seeing the all consuming hate and disgust that lived there. Our life was a day by day kind of thing. And I watched from the windows when he stayed out in his garage expecting him to bring a gun and murder us. He had a full arsenal that he displayed through out the house - a dare for one of us to try to leave. Not that we could anyway. We were isolated from the world - cut off from friends and family  We only had one vehicle - a rusted work van that only had two seats and he slept with the keys and his wallet which controlled all the money. We were trapped in this hell.

When I turned 18, I was no longer a child. It wasn't considered child abuse anymore. For twelve years I kept his dirty secret. I guess he thought he was safe. Two days after my birthday, it began. A whole new level of hell. He would make me come out to his garage and keep me up all hours of the night and then wake me early in the morning. Its a form of control so you don't fight back because you are too tired. Every day, sometimes multiple times a day, my stepfather would sexually assault me. I would cry and beg him to stop and he would - for awhile. Then it would begin all over again and with more control and disregard for what I said. I didn't want to stop fighting, but eventually I got too tired. I would stand or sit until it was over and then cry myself to sleep.

This lasted for a full year. And in that year, I begged God to let me die. I begged him to let me go to sleep and not wake up. I was broken and there was no way to salvation - none that I could see. And it was in that moment, that I felt God's presence and in my heart He told me 'it will be okay. I promise. It will end soon.'

That kept me alive. That, and my brothers whom I love more than life. I couldn't let them face the darkness without me.

In December of 2009 we received our salvation. We escaped and we never looked backed. At a different time, I will tell you about that day. It was scary and he chased us but we made it to safety.

We lived in a shelter for three months. There, we learned about the cycle of abuse. We began therapy to help us work through the trauma. We learned about the outside world. I wore make up for the first time, and had jewelry and a black pair of denim jeans. I still have them.

It's not easy to begin a new life in a strange country and that is what it was like for us. There was so much we had to learn, most by trial and error.

There was a lot I had to learn. A lot I needed to overcome or find a way around. I still do. These things still hurt. They don't go away just because the inflictor is gone. They don't disappear although I wish they could. There is no magic wand, no perfect word, and no therapy that can undo what has occured.

During the hard times when I felt like everything was over, I would recite this one verse to myself. It was a reminder, a director of hope : 'There is surely a future hope for you, and your hope will not be cut off.' Proverbs 23:18. I wanted to believe it more than anything. I wanted all of this darkness to mean something, because then what was the point? There is surely a future hope for you. Trust me, there is. I didn't think there was one for me. I never believed someone would ever love me because I was so damaged. Damaged goods. That's how I saw myself. Unworthy, unwanted, unloveable. It's a terrible, terrible place to be.

But I kept going because this time I wasn't going to give in, I was done giving in! I was done letting someone break me day in and day out. I have fought every single day to maintain the breath in my lungs and the beat in my heart. I have worked every day to find a reason to keep walking. It wasn't easy.

They say that wherever life leads you, whatever you go through, when you come out in the end you are exactly where you are supposed to be. 

Despite all that I have been through, I have come to the place I was meant to be. When I met Link, my fiance, I was dating someone else. A bad someone else who I dumped for cheating on me. I was at a low point in my depression. I was cutting non stop back then and Link knew. He didn't try to stop me because he knew it wouldn't do any good. He just reasoned with me. One day he called me while I was cutting. I had carved 'ugly' and 'perfect' into my upper right thigh. I was angry and told him exactly what I was doing. Do you know what he did? He got into his car, came to my house, and cleaned and bandaged my wounds. And he cried over them. He cried because he hated to see the pain I was in.

Someone who had just started getting to know me cared so much.

Eventually, I stopped cutting. I stopped for Link. I wanted a future with him and I wasn't willing to mess it up. I wasn't willing to stop fighting. Our relationship isn't perfect. Of course we fight sometimes, but he is my best friend. He gets me on a deeper level than I ever thought possible. He never expects an explanation. He's patient when I'm angry or distant. He reasons when I'm irrational and heated. He's there when I wake up from the nightmares.

I do believe there is someone for everyone. When you get to where you need to be, you will find him or her. And maybe you don't need a someone, maybe you just need a chance, just a moment to escape. I promise that you will find one of those, too. It's coming, please hold on!

There is another verse in the Bible, Joel 2:25, and it says that 'the Lord will restore the years that the locust have eaten', meaning he will right the wrongs that came to you. This time in my life, despite the daily ups and downs, this time is my restoration. And I'm telling you whether you believe in God or not, that your life will not always be in darkness. I promise you, because I have been there.

I have walked to the edge of the darkness and I have stared Death straight in the eyes and I still turned around and walked the other way! It is never too late and you are never too far gone.

It will get better.

This wedding is so huge for me. It is something I never believed I would have. There is no where I would rather be than by Link's side. This new life is my restoration. This wedding is. But this wedding also holds a lot of symbolism, too. We leave our old life behind to begin anew. That's what I'm going to do. I'm going to let it go and let the restoration wash over me.

It will be one of the happiest moments of my life. However, I will never forget that moment with Mac, on our porch in the summer. From that moment, I traveled to where I needed to be.

Wherever you are, don't give up. Please, please don't give up. There is surely a future hope for you. Your life will be restored.

Believe in yourself.

Don't stop fighting.

I won't. I can't, because I have something to live for.

So do you.

I wasn't the only one to live through the horror. My mother and my siblings lived it too. They are survivors. They are strong, and I am proud of all of them. I know they all have their own stories to tell. They have their own nightmares and flash backs to contend with. But not once have I ever seen them stop fighting, struggling to get free. I know they haven't found all their words yet. I hope some day they will. I hope they recognize their restoration as well.

Please, please don't give up! I promise that it gets better! 

May the Frets be with you.

Guest Speaker: Rachelove

I am honored to welcome my first guest speaker known as Rachelove. I have known her for a few years now and I can confidently say that my life is much more awesome having known her. We all go through that feeling of isolation, believing no one knows what we are going through. Rachelove does a beautiful job not only describing her depression and how it affects her day to day life, but also how she fights it. I hope you all find it as inspiring as I did.


I would like to start by introducing myself and say that I hope my blog is relatable. I hope that you can read what I write and feel that you are not alone because we all struggle.

I'm 21, married, with a daughter that's 17 months. She is everything to me. I've been married just under a year. I've struggled with depression for a large portion of my life. When I met my husband I was at a very low point. I had imprisoned myself in my house until I eventually had a fear of stepping outside my door. My doctor diagnosed me with agoraphobia. Saying the word makes me sick. I have never felt more lost until I became housebound.  My anxiety at some of it's scariest points and my depression at some of my lowest points. I was only 17 years old. I should have been focused on my school work and graduating high school, but instead I was inside my home fearful of life in general. I did not graduate. I had a boyfriend who was a very active gamer, while at first I did not agree with his habits, I eventually took on gaming myself as an "outlet" for everything I was coping with. It was easier living in a virtual world then reality. The game we played was World of Warcraft. I loved it! I could become a badass fearless character without having to leave my bedroom! I could explore the world and travel anywhere I wanted without actually have to leave my "safe zone" of course it was a fake world but nevertheless a world I wasn't afraid of. I met some great people on the game, some friends I still talk to. I also met one special person in particular, my husband. Another entry Id love to share more with you about how we were eventually led to making the decision to meet.

My depression

A little about how I feel when I'm depressed, helpless, angry, temperamental, and much more. I tend to not eat and like to talk to a few of my friends (which I tend to use as "safety nets") about how miserable I am in hopes that someone will randomly take all my pain away.  A safety net is someone or something you run to when your feeling out of control. I have 3 friends that go back and forth with me, I even have one friend that I am his safety net as well. We tend to pull people like magnets without even thinking about it. Naturally we are drawn to each other's pain and misery and we keep switching roles to help each other or victimize ourselves. It' a triangle that keeps going.

 I struggle with acceptance and being independent, when I reach these lows I feel I cannot be alone. I'm terrified of sleeping alone, being alone in a room for long periods of time, traveling alone etc I still do all of these things by myself because I have to. There are days though when I do not get up to pee until I can't hold it anymore. I'll feel my stomach growl but not eat, I'll smell my b.o. And bad breath and just continue laying in my bed. It takes everything to just snap out of it and say "ok, I'm going to go shower and feed myself and finally go to the bathroom" etc. When I tell people about my depression they tell me things like "shame on you, you have a baby shouldn't that be enough motivation to do better?" As if I don't love her or as if she's not good enough to pull me out of my funk. My baby girl is more than my everything to me.  I do not love her any less than any mom not struggling with these conditions. I will continue to use her as my motivation to keep going. She always will be.

Depression after fighting

My husband has been watching me go through some of the toughest times and unfortunately has been a victim of tough times himself. Our situation is unique and not so simple. We are both from two different countries. Even though we are practically neighbors, this is 2015 and being married doesn't mean you get to just work and live here in the USA. We have been trying to get him a green card for 2 years now. We do not have the finances. This has put a huge barrier on our relationship. Lately we have found out some more disappointing news and as usual it isn't looking good for us living in the United States. It's time to face fact, it's time I live with him. I am struggling to do so and we fight. We have both said things we don't mean. We are hurting each other more often, saying things we don't really mean. Our fights are a dead trigger to my anxiety and my depression. I feel a never ending knot in my stomach, the more out of control I act the further away I push him. I yell, I blame him. Through it all he still tries to reassure me he loves me until he's had enough, then the phone calls stop and the messages, leaving me to feel isolated, alone, and abandoned. This is when the lack of eating starts and the leaning on my safety nets. I push him to a breaking point because I'm feeling out of control until I get what I feared would happen. He still reluctantly answers my phone calls and when he feels he needs space still listens to me.  I'm still not satisfied. This dark cloud that lingers above my head won't be satisfied until I'm never happy.  I am hanging onto a string while it's blowing me around in a circle of storms. While I believe I deserve to be happy and when I get the courage to say I won't let this rule my life anymore, my brains yells "NOPE" "you are bound to suffer and it's your fault."

I still fight it and I will continue until I succeed.

If you would like to follow Rachelove's blog, click the link below and show her some well deserved and much needed love. I encourage you all to leave a comment for her, showing your support:

Depression after fighting

May the Frets be with you.

In The Words Of...

This morning I was browsing the all powerful Internet. I was looking for an inspirational quote to use as a status on my blog's Facebook page. Click. Click. Click. I wanted something that really spoke to me, something that was powerful.

Click.

Whoosh!

You know those moments when you feel like you been struck by lightening, or that you walked right into an invisible wall and had the breath knocked out of you? 

Ladies and gentleman, meet my invisible wall:

What a powerful quote and an even more extraordinary idea. 

I was kind of dumbfounded and my little peewee brain struggled with the emotions I have been harboring for years - resentment, loss, and hate.

Ever had people hanging on your arms and all of them want you to do something different? Well, that is how I have felt for a very long time. As if my wrists had been bound my this invisible leather and these skeletal  hands with long bony fingers grabbed at my elbows stopping my blood flow and rendering me helpless.

Resentment. Loathing. You name it, its a dangerous load to carry around.

But I have always felt that if I just let it go, that they won. I felt like someone needed to remember the bad things, the bone breaking moments. I didn't want it to be like none of it ever happened because then what was the point of it all?

But I suppose that by harboring the hate, I really am giving into what they wanted in the first place. They say misery loves company, and I can agree with that. The person who brings you down must be altogether desperate and miserable.

Where ever you are in life, I encourage you to remember these wise words of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. No man or woman should get the enjoyment of seeing you suffer while their pain holds you hostage.

Don't go there, you are better than that.

And so am I.

Break the bonds that bind you, 
Let the shadows flee your sight
For though Misery loves company,
She cannot withstand a fight.

May the Frets be with you.