This morning, I sat down to write with an old song stuck in my head. It was Magic by B.O.B. It used to be one of my favorites in college. As I listen to the song, now on the third replay, I can’t help but take a walk down memory lane. All these sweet memories of college mornings when I was in an ultra-peppy mood, listening to my iPod as I walked to class, and generally feeling good about life that day. It was such a sweet and stressful time; when friends were so close, and it felt like anything was possible. It was just the beginning of adulthood. We’d build forts in shared living spaces and watch teenage dramas as we stared down the reality of choosing a major and career for the rest of our lives. The boys’ dorms were barely more than a bed and a laundry basket, while the girls’ dorms were beautifully decorated and smelled nice. We were all growing up together and playing with some of the boundaries of our bodies. Stay up all night before an exam? Sure. Go out to the bars on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday night? Done and done. Walk…
I was trying to make a difficult decision the other day. Indecision causes stress, or, should I say, it causes me stress, so the weight of it all was getting to me. Do I commit to one option and sacrifice the other? How do I know which option guarantees success? What if option A leads to exhaustion and disappointment? What if option B could be really fulfilling? These questions kept rolling over and over in my mind like a hamster on a wheel. I felt stuck, stressed, and desperate for clarity. “I wish I could just google it,” I thought. Wouldn’t it be great if Google had all the answers to our most pressing questions? What should I do with my life? Do I even have a calling? Should I take the leap? Do I need to make a change? Should I take the job? Do they actually care? Is it worth the investment? Will I be safe? Will I be loved? Will I be happy? To my own dismay, I knew Google wouldn’t have the answer I was looking for. As much as I love typing a question into the toggle bar and clicking “search”, I knew the map…
Over the past few weeks, I’ve been watching the Netflix series, Inventing Anna. If you haven’t seen the series yourself, it’s about a young woman faking her way to the height of New York’s elite as a German heiress. She spends A LOT of money that is not hers to spend. She stays at a series of beautiful New York City hotels, never actually paying for her room while having all meals and services added to her room. There’s more to the story, but I’ll let you binge the series if you’d like. As I was pouring my coffee this morning, it occurred to me that many of the stories we tell ourselves could be just as fake as the lies Anna told. There are moments I catch myself comparing my life to the imagined life of another and I have to ask myself, “do I know that story to be the truth?” Sure, there are women I follow on social media whose stories I consume daily. But, for as many days as I’ve clicked on their profile picture to peer into their lives, I’m only getting a portion of their truth. My eyes see the portion of their lives…
Seven years. It’s been seven years since I sat on that cushioned table, giving voice to the thoughts that had, so far, only existed in my head. That day changed the trajectory of my life. The doctor was kind and matter of fact. I was trying to hold myself together, speaking with as much confidence as I could, even though I knew my voice was quivering. She turned her computer screen to face me and I saw the little dot in the red zone. The little dot was supposed to be me. The red zone indicated severe anxiety. That’s where I lived my life until that point – in the land of severe anxiety. I left the clinic that day with a prescription in hand and hope for the future. Life got better after that. The last six weeks of my life felt a whole lot like those days before the clinic visit. Once again, I found myself sitting on my bed thinking, “something is wrong with me”. Once again, I suffered from panic attacks. Once again, anxiety was dominating my life. After seven years on medication, I paid another visit to the doctor this week to review the prescription….
It was the day you woke up asking God, “What’s wrong with me?” It was the moment the thoughts were overwhelming so you crawled into bed and cried yourself to sleep. It was the morning you spent trying to figure out why the panic was there at the same time you had to calm yourself. It was the day you googled “what is wrong with me?” It was the journal entry that made you realize even talking about the shame would leave you feeling shameful, so you decided to keep it to yourself. It was the thought “someone has it worse than me, I should be grateful” playing on repeat. Maybe it was the day that made you feel like even leaving bed was too much to ask. Those moments, those heavy days, they’re really hard. I know, I’ve been there. It feels like you’re lifting the weight of your entire life, feeling the decades stack upon each other as the future grows darker. You think to yourself, “I can’t keep going like this. If the rest is going to be this hard, I can’t keep going like this. I need help.” I wish I could make you see how…
September Musings
This morning, I sat down to write with an old song stuck in my head. It was Magic by B.O.B. It used to be one of my favorites in college. As I listen to the song, now on the third replay, I can’t help but take a walk down memory lane. All these sweet memories of college mornings when I was in an ultra-peppy mood, listening to my iPod as I walked to class, and generally feeling good about life that day. It was such a sweet and stressful time; when friends were so close, and it felt like anything was possible. It was just the beginning of adulthood. We’d build forts in shared living spaces and watch teenage dramas as we stared down the reality of choosing a major and career for the rest of our lives. The boys’ dorms were barely more than a bed and a laundry basket, while the girls’ dorms were beautifully decorated and smelled nice. We were all growing up together and playing with some of the boundaries of our bodies. Stay up all night before an exam? Sure. Go out to the bars on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday night? Done and done. Walk…
The Dark Days Are Behind You
Author’s Note: This blog includes implications of self-harm and suicide.
Hey Google, what should I do with my life?
I was trying to make a difficult decision the other day. Indecision causes stress, or, should I say, it causes me stress, so the weight of it all was getting to me. Do I commit to one option and sacrifice the other? How do I know which option guarantees success? What if option A leads to exhaustion and disappointment? What if option B could be really fulfilling? These questions kept rolling over and over in my mind like a hamster on a wheel. I felt stuck, stressed, and desperate for clarity. “I wish I could just google it,” I thought. Wouldn’t it be great if Google had all the answers to our most pressing questions? What should I do with my life? Do I even have a calling? Should I take the leap? Do I need to make a change? Should I take the job? Do they actually care? Is it worth the investment? Will I be safe? Will I be loved? Will I be happy? To my own dismay, I knew Google wouldn’t have the answer I was looking for. As much as I love typing a question into the toggle bar and clicking “search”, I knew the map…
Lessons Learned from Inventing Anna
Over the past few weeks, I’ve been watching the Netflix series, Inventing Anna. If you haven’t seen the series yourself, it’s about a young woman faking her way to the height of New York’s elite as a German heiress. She spends A LOT of money that is not hers to spend. She stays at a series of beautiful New York City hotels, never actually paying for her room while having all meals and services added to her room. There’s more to the story, but I’ll let you binge the series if you’d like. As I was pouring my coffee this morning, it occurred to me that many of the stories we tell ourselves could be just as fake as the lies Anna told. There are moments I catch myself comparing my life to the imagined life of another and I have to ask myself, “do I know that story to be the truth?” Sure, there are women I follow on social media whose stories I consume daily. But, for as many days as I’ve clicked on their profile picture to peer into their lives, I’m only getting a portion of their truth. My eyes see the portion of their lives…
Sixty Minutes and a Little White Pill
Seven years. It’s been seven years since I sat on that cushioned table, giving voice to the thoughts that had, so far, only existed in my head. That day changed the trajectory of my life. The doctor was kind and matter of fact. I was trying to hold myself together, speaking with as much confidence as I could, even though I knew my voice was quivering. She turned her computer screen to face me and I saw the little dot in the red zone. The little dot was supposed to be me. The red zone indicated severe anxiety. That’s where I lived my life until that point – in the land of severe anxiety. I left the clinic that day with a prescription in hand and hope for the future. Life got better after that. The last six weeks of my life felt a whole lot like those days before the clinic visit. Once again, I found myself sitting on my bed thinking, “something is wrong with me”. Once again, I suffered from panic attacks. Once again, anxiety was dominating my life. After seven years on medication, I paid another visit to the doctor this week to review the prescription….
For the Hard Days
It was the day you woke up asking God, “What’s wrong with me?” It was the moment the thoughts were overwhelming so you crawled into bed and cried yourself to sleep. It was the morning you spent trying to figure out why the panic was there at the same time you had to calm yourself. It was the day you googled “what is wrong with me?” It was the journal entry that made you realize even talking about the shame would leave you feeling shameful, so you decided to keep it to yourself. It was the thought “someone has it worse than me, I should be grateful” playing on repeat. Maybe it was the day that made you feel like even leaving bed was too much to ask. Those moments, those heavy days, they’re really hard. I know, I’ve been there. It feels like you’re lifting the weight of your entire life, feeling the decades stack upon each other as the future grows darker. You think to yourself, “I can’t keep going like this. If the rest is going to be this hard, I can’t keep going like this. I need help.” I wish I could make you see how…