To preface: I feel really uncomfortable putting this out there. But it’s important. It’s my reality, and it is so many other people’s realities with their mental health. Suicide Prevention week just passed and I wanted to share my story of survival. My story is fortunate in some ways - I have had the resources and ability to seek help. I have always had a support system and I have always had a safe environment to return to. This is not the same as many other realities, and I am very fortunate for that. But either way - my brain was wired in a way that made each day hard, each thing harder than it needed to be. It’s not always circumstantial, and that is perfectly okay. You do not need a visible, tangible reason to feel pain.
It is perplexing how the brain works. When reflecting on my childhood, my memories are pretty cloudy. I don’t remember a lot. I have a great family, I got to go to every activity in school, I always had food, I stayed in the same schools and home for my entire childhood, I was safe in my home and well cared for. I was set up for a good life. It’s not that life wasn’t good, it just was always hard.
I’ve spent 10 years in therapy. I have had 4 different therapists - one was a weird guy I played games with in 5th grade (play therapy…thought it was boring), another one of my therapists had me at my worst when I was 15, another one in college, and another one now - my favorite one (actually, I had 5 but I only saw the other one a few times - it was an old jewish woman working out of her home…that one was reaaaaally weird). The point is, I worked my ass off. Because I had to. Not because I wanted to. All I wanted? To not spend every second of my life living in depression and anxiety and self-hatred.
My most transformative healing period was between ages 21 and 23. Life got hard at around 10 years old. My brain was constantly wired to be hard on myself, I was so quiet and anxious and sad. I was always so sad. Would my teachers say that? No. I was a pleasure to have in class. I had tons of friends. Would they say that I was sad? Probably not. I believe I generally presented as happy, respectful, smart, kind. Maybe also weird? I don’t know, I had a bob cut for years and I was obsessed with ducks for most of my pre-teen years. I was also maybe 90lbs and pretty bullied. There were just things within my little head that I never told anyone.
I remember being so little and thinking that I didn’t want to be alive anymore. I am at the age now where I couldn't even picture myself alive. Like...for years I did not picture myself ever living past 20. I really, genuinely saw nothing coming for my future (despite having all the resources for a great one). I had researched how to die in a painless way pretty young, I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone how young I was - but I remember. My suicide attempt was when I was 15. I had just experienced my first break up, I was self-harming, I was raped, and I was getting bullied - all within a short timeframe.
April 3, 2014, my first & only grippy sock vacation began. I am glad I didn’t die, and I know I was close. When returning from my grippy sock vacation, I actively sought hope. I tried to find my joy. I tried to be less hard on myself. I was trying my hardest because I never wanted to get to the point of actively wanting to die again. I kept telling myself there was more to life than this, and there is.
It’s weird to think all that I would have missed out on. I would’ve missed prom, senior sunrise, high school graduation, college, seeing my brother graduate, studying abroad, finding a love for travel, college graduation, my career, the 100’s of people I have helped by sharing my story publicly through the church, I would have missed love, I would’ve never been able to live my authentic gay self, never adopted my cat, I would've missed so many sunsets. I would have never seen myself turn into who I am now. And I really like her. I really truly love her, actually…and I wouldn’t be her without the bad times.
A majority of my pain was from my own brain. It also was from the bullies and my rapist and the things that people said that I ruminated on, but the most powerful thing I learned? If you are whole within yourself and you know how to handle situations as they arise - no one can disturb your peace except for you. You are your peace. I just never knew what “peace” was. I had to learn.
In the last two years, I reached the point in my therapy where it is upkeep. I’ve unpacked my shit, found ways to overcome it, learned how my brain works and the things I need to do to be healthy. I am one of the lucky people who needs medication in order for my brain to work in my favor, fine with me. It’s weird now - I go into therapy and share whatever is happening in my life, share how i handled it, and I am consistently reminded of how “old Brooke” would have acted. I don’t see “old Brooke” anymore. I don’t actually know her. I look at myself and see someone who overcame a lot. I see someone who handles conflict in a respectful way, I see someone who sticks up for herself, I see someone who is unapologetically herself in every situation, I see someone who sees the best in people because I once was someone who was destructive and hurt people, I was someone who was not happy with myself and projected that in some ways. So I get it. I've also had a lot of situations in the past 6 months that would have put "old Brooke" into a total spin - but it didn't now. I am actually pretty good despite a lot and handled all of it in a way that I am proud of.
In those last two years, I started finding a lot of joy in the little moments. I love laughing with people. I love watching people's eyes light up when they talk about things they love. I love meeting people even if it is just for a second. I love being nice to random people. I love politics? I love watching trash reality tv. I love reading happy news stories. I love 'five minute craft' videos mostly because they make no sense. I love listening to music from when I was younger. I love replacing bad memories with good ones. I love working with teenagers. I love the noise my cat makes when she jumps. I love buying flowers just because. I love bad dancing. I love dancing with someone I care about. I love singing in the car. I love being so weird that other people feel comfortable to be themselves, because at least they aren't as weird as me. I love dealing with conflict in a healthy way. I love having self-care nights. I love writing my stupid little articles for this silly little blog that no one reads. I love skylines. I love random adventures. I love spontaneity. I love public speaking. I love how the sky looks right after it rains. I love telling people to look at the moon when I'm not with them, mostly because we are under the same sky. I love texting my friends to watch the sunset. I realized I apparently like the sky...anyway... I just love life and I am so happy I am here.
I wanted to write this to share my story of surviving some really shitty cards with mental health. I survived and overcame a lot. It was not easy, it was not fun - but it was possible. It is possible for anyone. Life is worth living. Please choose life, every single time. I just hope that everyone can see just how good life can get.
**to be noted, this sounds overtly positive about how my life is now - I still have bad days. I am in a really shitty time right now and I still have to work on my mental health daily - I just know how to take care of it. There is and always have been beauty in the bad days. I am learning more every day. It just took years to get here, but there is so much more room for growth - and that is pretty exciting too, right? :)**
Comments