See this face? She's still struggling...

Look at this face. This happy, well-adjusted, secure, confident little face. It’s hard to imagine that already, at this age, this sweet little girl’s body and mind were betraying her. Already, the seeds of depression and anxiety were planted. And oh, the havoc they would wreak!

This little face, smile, happiness and security, belonged to me. As everyone else in the world has, I’ve suffered great tragedies and experienced wonderful successes. They’ve all been complicated by my wicked mental health. All along, there has been a very loud voice, a cruel one, telling me I deserved all of the bad things (and more), and none of the good.

I know there are many who understand this cycle. It’s awful. I’ve sought help a number of times, with varying degrees of success. But on February 3 this year, all that help almost lost the battle to that loud, cruel voice in my head. The loud voice came within seconds of winning. Seconds.

I’m ashamed I got there. But I know it’s not because I’m weak, or don’t care. I still have the facebook post I wrote. Letting people know why I’d made the choice I did. I’ve burned all the letters I wrote. I wrote many. As with most things, I planned my exit in an organized, detailed manner. Looking back, I break my own heart.

I don’t know exactly what stopped me. People popped into my mind. My cats, who depend on me, and me alone, popped into my mind. But the pain almost blotted all of that out. The voice shouted it down. I suspect it was my grandmother, to be honest. Whatever it was that finally got me to physically stop my actions, I’m grateful.

Knowing that the cruel voice in my head had complete control, and all the therapy and wise words I’ve read and heard over the years were being silenced by it, I sought more help. I checked myself into treatment.

Here's the kicker. I was working as a contractor. This means I had no insurance. And no job security. The hospital stay for the week was $5,000. I paid it. I have no credit cards. I live on what I have in the bank. 5G hurt. But I truly think this was my only choice. I should honestly have stayed for two months. The people I entered with just checked out last week. But $5K a month? No can do. I threw myself into everything I could the week I was there. I was dedicated.

The therapy was outstanding. I took advantage of every bit of it. The right choice, thank goodness.

While I was there, I was allowed access to my email briefly, and found my contract for work had been terminated because I took the week off. They didn’t even try to word it carefully. They have the law on their side. I was done.

Due to previous times (fairly recent ones) of unemployment and financial terror, when I landed that job, I paid off every loan I’d received, and then I started saving like I never have before. I’m so grateful I did, because these savings have allowed me to concentrate on ME and ONLY ME for the last almost three months. But those savings will come to an end very soon.

Posting this fundraiser is making me feel physically ill. But I have to honor all the work I’ve done lately, and try to keep my head up and the anxiety down. And I have to ask, humbly… AGAIN… for help.

What I can tell you, is that for the first time in about 30 years, I feel like me. The me who was confident and fun and happy in college. I can sense her again. The me before 3/7/94. I thought she was dead. She’s not. It’s almost like having a stranger in my head. But not a stranger… someone I knew really, really well. She’s welcome. But I’m a little trepidatious. I think she’s a friend. I hope so. I’m welcoming her with open arms, and huge hopes for a happy future, free of the loud, mean voice.

That's not to say I'm not still struggling. Because I am. I sleep very little. I have anxiety attacks like nothing I've ever experienced before. Almost daily. Devastating. My depression is much better. The voice is quieter. But still there.

If you can spare it, I can use it. It’s embarrassing, truly mortifying, to ask. But I am alone out here. I don’t have a partner to lean on. That’s you, my chosen family. My parents are not in a position to help (other than a promise that I will never have to live in my car).

So if you can help, I am asking. Heart open.

I am extremely grateful for donations. I am also open to and equally grateful for loans. I can’t promise the pay-back date, but I can promise it will be paid back (my recent history is evidence).

My cats need to eat. We all need to keep our roof over our heads. My car is hanging on by a thread. It needs big help, but it’s drivable. I need to keep it doing that so I can find, and get to, a job. I am job hunting like a maniac, but haven’t had a big bite yet (a few nibbles!). I have continuing mental health expenses, with no insurance. Medicine. Therapy.

Your help will make that possible.

I am grateful to still be here to humble myself to ask. Please help if you can, Silence that loud, cruel voice with me.

Thank you.

#mentalhealthawareness #mentalhealthmatters #mentalhealthrecovery #endthestigma #mindfulness #personalgrowth #selfcarematters #chosenfamily #goodkarma