Let Me Be Alive

In the worst moments I experienced while dealing with depression, people would say a lot of the same things to me.

"Stop wasting your time feeling sad."
"Focus on the positive things."
"Hey, here's a silver lining..."
"Don't spend so much energy on negativity."

And my least favorite: "Don't worry, be happy."
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Now, almost two years later, I'm not battling depression anymore. That said, I still deal with emotional breakdowns and tantrums that I can't explain. During those episodes, people still try to comfort me by saying similar things.

Towards the end of my freshman year of college, there was one particular week that I thought may as well have been the end of my world. I had caught my boyfriend cheating on me with a girl I had been friends with, my phone had died completely so I had no way to even talk to my best friends about what was going on, and on top of that I found out I had been reported by several people for expressing my personal emotions online via social media and my blog. Nothing explicit- but my stating how I was feeling apparently crossed lines.

"We're here to support you," one of those people said to me. "Come to us first."

"Really?" I said, half angry and half confused. "That's funny to me. Because if you really supported me, you'd come to me to see if I'm okay or if I need help. If I meant anything to you I'd think you'd at least talk to me about it before reporting me for nothing."

I never got a response.
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The following Monday night when I came home around 11, wasn't talkative and had no appetite, my mom knew something was up.

"He was seeing another girl," I told her. "The whole time and he didn't tell me."

I made a number of bad decisions that night. I don't know if someone has ever hurt you so badly or if so many things have gone so wrong for you all at once before, but I can promise you it isn't a fun thing to go through.

Especially when you're already not emotionally okay.

I was hyperventilating. I was coughing so hard I wondered if it would ever stop. My throat was burning, I was crying, and I felt indescribably sick. After leaving more than a few scratches on the surfaces of my own arms, I gave it all up and just sat there doing nothing. Not thinking. Not writing. Not contacting anyone. Just sitting there, breathing and being alive- even though alive isn't how I felt.

My mom sat with me for the several hours it took to calm me down, at first trying to distract me by asking me if I wanted to do any of my favorite things later on that week.

I shook my head after each question, until she asked one that changed my entire view on emotion.

"Do you want me to just let you be miserable for a while?"

I nodded. 

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In that moment, I only nodded because I felt like that was the only way to go. I didn't particularly want to be miserable, but I also just didn't want to be happy. That sounds crazy, I know- but hear me out.

I've never been the kind of person you can distract from feelings. I've never been the person who deals with heartbreak by eating ice cream and "putting myself back out there" right away. I've never been the person to get jealous and want revenge. I've never kissed someone just to get over someone else. I've never been stressed and been able to believe anyone who tells me "it'll all work out," at the same time.
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And I definitely haven't mastered the art of forgive and forget yet, but that's because I don't think I ought to.

The forgiving part, yes. That much I have learned well because in the years, the Xanax, and the bad decisions made since then, I've realized that I NEED to forgive people. Whether or not they deserve it, I do- and I also believe that in refusing to forgive even those who were the cause of my absolute worst days, I am hurting myself. I can promise you I will forgive you for almost anything you ever do to me, but I will not forget it.

I will not forget- in part simply because my memory will allow nothing to escape. But it also has a lot to do with the idea that if you hurt me, I need to be able to keep (at least in the back of my mind) that you might be a toxic person.

I've always been a believer in second chances, but anything after the first sign of trouble is going to result in me being considerably more careful when it comes to you. If you hurt someone once, you might not do it again. But you also very well could, and that's a risk that I have grown to be a little bit too aware of. And as much as I'd like to tell you I don't hold grudges-- sometimes I do. But there are people in this world who have hurt me enough to not deserve the best of me.

I do not think that when someone does you wrong, you should forgive them and forget about it and act like nothing happened. I think that's naive and I think it is a waste of your life. Forgive them. Please. For your own sake, unless they are so toxic that you have to shove them out of your little slice of the universe completely, but either way- don't forget what that person did.

History books never would have been written if that was the way people chose to live.

You deserve to make your own mental notes that include things like, "Self, be careful, this person hurt you," or "Please don't forget the things this person said."
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I used to get so angry when people would tell me what to feel and what not to. When people would say things to me like that I should stop "wasting my time" feeling sad or being upset, it did more harm than anything. When people would say, "Don't worry, be happy," I all-too-often wished I could just grab them and yell at them until my voice would give out.

This still holds true.

Because I've always had an odd sense of appreciation for every emotion under the sun. I've always felt things, everyone around me has always felt things, and I've always been genuinely interested which is a large part of why I chose to make Psychology my second major when I got to college.

I don't accept any emotional advice anymore. I think that's the only thing that has really changed in the last few years as I've navigated the stages of depression and through the healing process that followed. I don't listen to people when they tell me that things will be okay, that I shouldn't worry, or that I should handle my feelings one way over another.

I don't do anything to distract myself from my feelings. I simply let them happen. I embrace them. I don't tuck them away or ignore them. I let myself be their victim- without fighting back- and I let them have their way with me until I can say I'm a survivor. At the end of the day, I know I will come out alive. Maybe a little bit bruised and beaten, maybe scarred and maybe in pain, but alive.

The thing is, that takes time. Sometimes hours, sometimes weeks, and sometimes as much as years or even decades. Some things don't ever really go away. I'm happier now than I have ever been, but in saying that I also have to tell you that there are days when I overthink or I remember a situation that kind of just shuts me down and makes me feel downright miserable. Sometimes I'll hear a song on the radio that reminds me of a heartbreak or I'll see something that reminds me of someone I'm no longer on good terms with and it does break me. I wouldn't be being honest if I told you I've gotten to a point where I'm perfectly okay with my past and everything that has ever happened.

But I have gotten to a point where I don't rely on medications or the company of other people to keep me happy. I also have no desire to be happy all the time. Happiness is great, but it doesn't always make me feel alive.

My emotional state now is similar to building a sandcastle riiiiight along the shoreline, where at high tide the water comes up jusssssst enough to knock it down. I know damn well as I build that castle up and admire it for its strength that something will happen and it will come crashing down. That doesn't scare me away or stop me from anything. Every time that castle gets knocked down, some of the grains it was made with get washed away. By the time I rebuild it, those grains are replaced with different ones- and that happens over and over and over again.

That's the reason I chose this metaphor. Think about it.

A sandcastle is made entirely of the tiniest little pieces of the world, just like the way your life is made up of little moments and unique people. When things get tough, some of those people get washed away in the storm of whatever you're feeling. Some of them. Some of them stay and get to be part of the rebuilding.

Sometimes you will feel like you're drowning. Sometimes the sun is going to be shining on you. Sometimes you'll get kicked over because someone thinks they can just walk all over you.

But sometimes, even if it is only for a few seconds, you are going to be standing strong and you will feel that way. I can promise you that, because I've been there.
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I've also learned that a lot of times, I feel the most alive when I'm anything but happy. If I'm sad I will cry until I physically can't anymore. I'm not afraid of staying up all night just letting myself feel the way I'm feeling. I'll rant to people just for the sake of ranting, now. Not to get support or advice from them, but just to tell SOMEONE what's happening inside my brain.

This blog, for instance, was born around the hour of 5 a.m. on a Thursday morning when I had a 9:30 a.m. class to stay awake for- and an exam in that class, too.

This blog is a result of me staying up the entire night thinking, playing back moments in my head, asking myself millions of questions, crying, journaling, writing angry letters and feeling more alive than ever. Miserable--- but alive.

Feeling alive is the greatest thing I've ever experienced. No matter what emotion is behind it, I know enough to understand that there is no such thing as "wasting" time feeling something. Spending, yes. Wasting? Never.

I don't (anymore) and I never will (again) suppress anything I feel.

I'm not about to go out and do something just to get my mind off of whatever I'm thinking. I'm not going to put a bottle or a pill to my lips just so I can blackout hours later and forget everything.

I may curse your name, drink a little bit too much coffee the next morning and take a little bit too long to get over it, but just let me feel it for a while.

Let me be miserable or be jealous or be happy.
Give me that space and let me cry about it.
Don't try and stop me when I'm three pages into a spiteful letter because it won't go anywhere or see anyone's hands but mine- I just need to write it.
Allow me that triple shot of espresso even though I might be bouncing off the walls.
If I say I don't want to talk about it do not press me on it, just trust me that when I am ready I will tell you.
Let me be alive and I'll let you do the same.
This really shouldn't be that complicated.

Don't tell me not to worry because if I am already, I won't stop. Don't tell me to not be sad because that won't make me not be sad anymore. Let me feel things and let yourself feel things. Trust me.

Just...

Be fucking brave. This is the human experience. This is the biggest mind game you will ever play, and that's seriously all it is.
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note from the author:

I have found myself in very dark places.

I have lost myself over and over

and given parts of me to people who never deserved them.

I have cried over silly things, given up long before I should've, 

said a few too many of the wrong things and swallowed my pride when I should have spit.

I have found scratches on my own arms that are there because of my own hands. 

I have run from confrontation enough to know that I shouldn't.

I have gotten far too drunk on grande lattes in the middle of the day to say that coffee can't fix most anything.

I have written a collection of letters to those who have done me wrong and I have kept them because in my years as a writer I've learned that sometimes you just have to pull the demons out of your head and pour them out onto paper without that paper having to ever meet the eyes of the one it is written to.

I have made friends and I have made enemies.

I have spoken my peace, I have fought, I have waved my white flag a few times and other times I have won.

I am grateful to you for letting me feel things.

I am lucky in that with every heartbreak, I was given another excuse to write a new chapter of my book or try a new coffee or buy a new bold shade of lipstick.

I am grateful for having found a home and just as grateful for having to leave.

I am grateful because more than anything, you have let me alive. 

Thank you for letting me be alive and for letting me be free.

Shoutout to the friend I called crying my heart out to one Wednesday at 2 AM who said,

"But freedom suits you," and left it at that because that was incredible and I will never forget it.

xox - sandcastle builder, storm survivor and human experience enthusiast 

Image credit: Suzanne Tobias

(we never know when high tide is coming but we can welcome all waves with open arms)