Category Archives: Depression

May 9 2012

We’re living up to standards that don’t exist.

This is a video that I made about a year ago. Please watch, and feel free to share.

If we all live like this, nobody will be happy. Every single person on this planet will be a mess. A broken, shattered mess. 
Sadly, this is all caused by society. We can’t help it. We can’t stop society from judging every single person based on their looks. We stereotype every single person, just so it makes ourselves feel better. We think of everything so closed mindedly- as if it HAS to be this way. As if it’s simply the way we have to be, and can’t be ourselves. We’re being forced into living up to standards that don’t exist, that are simply phantoms, myths. 

May 2 2012

People are not mirrors.

Many of us have struggled with self-image issues at some point, and with increase in social media and the setting of higher standards, it’s becoming a very predominant problem. The range of age of those struggling is becoming wider and wider.  The issue is growing, but not becoming any less severe or serious than it ever has been.

A lot of times, it’s pushed aside as a “phase” or simply an act for attention. The thing these people don’t understand is that it isn’t just “grown out of”. One problem causes another, and a lot of times, a few cruel words can spiral into an inescapable mess of depression and hopelessness.

I’ve always been extremely aware of society’s impact on young women and men. It’s extremely frightening to fall into a place where you’re happy with nothing and start relying on last resorts. The only thing we can really do is to show the world that nothing is impossible. A lot of the things we’re insecure about, nobody else notices. If there is something about yourself that you desperately want to change, take the SAFE path. Don’t go to extremes that will leave you in a worse place than you started in. Human beings are not mirrors. The things that you are insecure about are probably perfect in someone else’s eyes. The first step to being happy is loving you for who you are.

Apr 23 2012

Maybe this beauty I see is a sign of something more.

As I get ready to walk out the door this morning to start off the week, I’m stopping to take a loot around at all of the miracles that happen all around me. I never truly realized how amazing it is that life falls together in the way that it does. As suddenly as it can fall apart, it can pull itself right back together. When one door slams shut on your finger, a whole hallway of new paths can stand wide open waiting to be explored.

Every day when I open my eyes to the sun rising once again, I realize that my life has once again been touched by grace. The way everything happens so perfectly, the way the sky can shift hues in a matter of minutes… all of it is extraordinary. I see the world in such a different light than I had just months before. I was in a very bad place at the time, both physically and emotionally. Everyone I talked to would tell me that it would get better. That there was hope. To keep fighting. To start better habits. That I was needed here.

And now, three years later, I’m starting to believe it. Maybe it’s a matter of trust. Maybe it’s because of all the things that have changed for the good. I still have my days and weeks where nothing works right. I remember the mistakes I’ve made and the promises I’ve broken. I miss the people I’ve let down and talk to the ones I unknowingly push away. And then, there are the days when I feel surrounded and embraced in unexpected love. I notice the beauty and perfection of a tiny flower blooming out in the front yard. My eyes are opened to the opportunities I’ve been gracefully and carefully given in order to make my life what I want it to be. All of the little signs start adding up to something so great.

As the months fly by, revelations and sacrifices come and go. Some are good ideas; and some, well…aren’t. I’m finally starting to see the scratches I’ve made on the surface of the earth become something deeper, more permanent. I’m starting to claim my spot here, and really committing myself to it. I’ve come to terms with the fact that maybe I wasn’t meant to be your normal teenager. I never have been. And maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe this beauty I see is a sign of something more.

Apr 4 2012

How to return the favor? I had no clue.

Since this will be my last post before Easter arrives, I wanted to share my own personal story of grace. I hope that you are able to take something from it, and never forget.

I wasn’t that huge of a Christian just two years or so ago. I would pray on occasion and go to church every once in a while, but God hadn’t quite made His home in my heart at the time. I’ve been battling depression, anxiety, and things alike since about 2007. I just never found faith at my fingertips, even though I will admit to eventually becoming too tired and out of “survival skills” to be able to battle alone for much longer. The ache and will to surrender and accept help grew stronger over time. At last, it turned into pleading. I was waiting. Waiting for something I wasn’t quite sure of. I always have believed that God has me in His heart, but how to return the favor? I had no clue.
In early 2010, I hit a pretty low point. I was barely eating, refused to talk to anyone, and didn’t keep up with school whatsoever. Moving forward to February, I was in for a wake-up call. It changed my life in some heartbreaking ways and in other miraculous ways.
I still wonder if it was the piercing blue eyes, the gorgeous beanie covering her bald head, or the brave smile on her face that captured my attention. I’m not sure if I ever will know. The only thing I’m certain of is that it’s stuck with me until this very day, and is bound to until I’m there in heaven with her.
For the first time in my life, I was praying ever so fervently. I was half way on my bed; both knees on the ground and my head rested on the mattress. The tears simply wouldn’t stop. They were a new kind of tears, though. My head was filling with regret, fear, and sorrowful sympathy.
I just found out that an innocent two year old- only eighteen pounds but full of compassion for the whole world- was losing her fight with cancer before we could even have a chance to think. This girl was as tough as nails and undoubtedly a hero. She paved her own medical path and taught doctors and nurses things they’d never learn in school. How is it that she was so suddenly being taken from her two older sisters and loving parents?
I’m sure you have all seen the commercials for St. Jude’s and maybe participated in a Relay for Life event or two. Once you put a name to the fight… everything turns around and becomes much more real.
I’m sure her parents named her Layla Grace for a reason. It definitely did fit her personality and “sparky” attitude. To me, her name ties together the entire battle she fought for eleven months. She wasn’t your ordinary cancer patient that walks in and out of the clinic. This child captured the attention of millions of people worldwide, teaching everyone lessons through the words that she couldn’t even speak yet. She and her family had a very strong faith that held them together through it all. Her dad was deployed in Iraq a few years before she was born.

It’s the legacy that keeps her memory alive that really stands out, though. During her celebration of life in March 2010, hundreds came from across the country to gather. The lessons I continue to learn through her bringing me closer to God continues to guide me through life. It’s hard to understand, even for me, how such a small person and little interaction could completely define who I am today. It all pulls together when I realize that she was brought into my heart for a reason. She touched my life, through God’s grace. I will always believe that she was an angel on earth, and being part of her story will always be the greatest honor. She brought to me what I begged for years to have in my life. And now that it’s here, it will never be gone.
Now, I want to give you something to remember from Layla’s legacy. Her father gave me an entirely new way to look at society and our power as I watched her celebration of life program. Picture all of humanity standing on a beach, each of us holding a shovel and pail in our hands. Some of us are closer to the water, and others have different advantages. It is entirely up to us as to what to spend our time doing. Some people will try to impress with huge mounds of sand, while others will sculpt a masterpiece or lend a hand to another person. Layla, though, would drop all of the tools she was given and run across the shorelines of the beach. She would tap every person she could reach and offer an encouraging word and a drop of pure grace to brighten a day.
I believe that all of us can do the same. We have the ability to think outside the box and do greater things, things that are unheard of. The smallest actions can make a huge impact if we choose the right ones. All it takes is a little start to give an opportunity to change your life. Never miss a chance. Always remember that you have something in your hands to work with. We are never left empty-handed.

Mar 28 2012

March Guest Blogger: Teddie Edmonds

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How do I even begin? Do I go right into my life story?
Should I?
I think the better question is “Will I?”
The answer to that question is the answer to most of the questions people ask me.
“I don’t know.”
It is a simple statement, but so unclear. So vague yet has so much depth. It’s also very uncertain.
Just like my future.
I don’t know what’s going to happen to me in 10 years. I don’t even know what I’m going to do tomorrow. All I know is today. At this moment. Right now.
What am I doing right now?
I’m thinking about these past few years, realizing how far I’ve come.
It’s almost funny, in a rather unfunny way.
I honestly didn’t think I’d made it to 2012.
But here I am, listening to Riceboy Sleeps’ “Indian Summer”, smiling to myself and feeling somewhat warm inside.
Warm.
I used to feel so cold. So icily cold to the point I’d feel a burning fire within myself.
But never warm.
My heart feels… almost whole. Almost. I still feel the coldness in the depths of my being. I still feel the burning in my body, but my heart, it feels warm.
Maybe it’s the song. Indian Summer tends to make me feel like I’m floating on air. Gliding like a flying squirrel.
Oh how I love flying squirrels. They’re so cute and furry and I just want to touch them really gently.
(I also want to be one, but that’s another story.)
I hope I made you laugh or smile. Nothing makes me feel better than brightening someone’s day, even just a bit. It makes my day a little bit brighter when I’m lost in a storm.
Storms.. I tend to find myself stuck in a lot of storms and dark holes. (Not literally.)
What I mean is that I tend to feel down often, more often than I’d like.
I’m only sixteen. I shouldn’t feel this down but I do. Way too much to be honest.
There are days (too many days) where I just feel so broken inside. So torn apart that I just can’t handle anything.
There are days when I’m so depressed that I don’t do anything but think. I think negatively, pessimistically, as if there is nothing left for me in this world.
Actually, there are a lot of reasons for me to want to be here. A lot of things I have but feel I don’t deserve any of them.
On those days, I battle with my thoughts. Sometimes I lose. And when I lose, I lose my mind.
I lose myself.
I have never attempted suicide to the point where I end up in a hospital. It’s more like I’ve attempted to attempt suicide. I never do anything completely drastic, because I’m so afraid of physical pain and dying and knowing that
I’d hurt people.
I don’t want to picture all my friends and family crying at my funeral over me. Me.
Who ever thought little ole’ me would have as much as an affect on people as I now realize?
My teachers care. They care so much and I feel so… undeserving. They let me slide on assignments because I was too depressed to do them, they gave me extensions on projects I couldn’t bring myself to work on, etc.
And Ms W. Oh Ms W.
I remember this time last year when I was too afraid to speak to her because she was so beautiful. When she spoke to me, my voice would get caught up in my throat or I’d mutter a small “hi” and avoid eye contact because I was ridiculously attracted to her and I didn’t want her to catch me staring if she turned away for a moment.
Then things changed. It was this year (technically last year but this school year).
She approached me, like always. But this time, I was caught completely off guard. I was depressed that day. I don’t remember why but I remember what she said and what she did.
She sat across from where I was sitting in the cafeteria. She spoke to me, asked if I was okay. She noticed how I put my hands up to my face and unexpectedly, she took a hold of my wrists. Her touch was light and soft, like a feather. She told me that her door was always open.
Since then, I’ve opened up to her. She’s nice and intelligent and funny.
She said I “intrigue” her. She also called me eloquent, which I disagree with but being called eloquent never fails to put a smile on my face.
And here I am, babbling about a teacher 12 years older than I instead of discussing how I deal with depression and suicidal thoughts.
I’ve come to realize that this is how I deal with it. I talk about things that make me smile or laugh or feel all warm inside about, or I play video games. They make me feel good.
And I’m not talking about COD. I play RPGs mostly, like Skyrim, Dragon Age, and Mass Effect. It gives me a sense of comfort. Being a hero. Being this cool character that kills dragons and absorbs their soul, or playing as Commander Shepard and saving the galaxy.
Because there’s nothing better than feeling like you’re important. That you mean something.
I don’t feel like that in real life. Not often.
I’m not even myself in real life. Not openly anyway. Some people are aware but I can never truly be myself. I’ll never be that I guy I know I am because of the body I was born with. I look at myself and cry sometimes. I ask God why he created me with a mind opposite to that of my birth sex. Why I feel like a boy and why I don’t have the body of one.
I’ll never really know the answer to that, I guess.
I do believe that most things happen for a reason, and if I wasn’t born this way I might be a totally different person, and I can’t say I like the idea of being an asshole.
Guess I was meant to be a sensitive guy with a love for flying squirrels and an attachment to fictional characters (I’m looking at you, Mass Effect characters).