Because it isn't until you start making things easier that life gets easier. It sounds redundant but things only get easier when you let them be easy. Things get hard and life screws you over almost every chance it gets but if we learn to let the smaller things roll of our backs then things get easier. Getting upset over the big things is appropriate of course and even crying over an accumulation of small things is okay but we just have to accept them for what they are. Being able to look at it and say "wow I had a shit day and nothing went right but hell that's life" is the most important skill we will ever learn. Don't compare yourself to the pictures you see on snapchat or instagram. Those pictures are so posed and and show everyone's best moments but they aren't real. It is easy to look at them and pity yourself because they have a better body or a better vacation but there is so much more to it. My sister, the most beautiful young woman I know, posts these pictures on facebook of her with her sorority and friends and I am always jealous but then I get calls in the middle of the night about how she drank too much and is lost in the city and got in a big fight with her boyfriend baout how they are both alcoholics and I realize that even those girls that look like they have everything, they just don't. So don't compare your life to a poster or picture perfect moment. Don't compare yourself to anyone or anything because it will never end well. Just accept the fact that your life is your own and you got to make it worth while because it is the only shot you will ever have.
So to answer your question, things get easier when you accept your life for exactly what it is; imperfect, screwey, messy, wonderful, and full of surprises, beautiful views and terrible disasters. Life gets better when you just start living! Let things go and just start walking towards whatever the hell you want. Do something you find meaningful and just go for it. Take what you got and make it into something special. Sincerely a -Survivor
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*trigger warning*
Wow this was a really emotional question for me. A reader asked "Was it worth it? Staying alive through all of these shitty times and emotions and pain. Why is it worth living through any of it?" Sometimes our hearts tell us it isn't worth it, that nothing on this planet could possibly be worth suffering through so much hurt and pain. Sometimes it takes everything in you to just hold off on hurting yourself or committing suicide because there just isn't anything left worth fighting for so you just tell yourself "maybe tomorrow or next week but not today." To parents and family and friends that sounds scary because thoughts thoughts are still lingering for us and your worried that tomorrow or next week will be the day we finally end it. But just take a second to acknowledge the strength it took for that person to say 'not today.' All through my depression it was a series of, "Not today, maybe after camp, camp will be fun." "Not today, maybe after christmas break." "Not today, maybe after parents weekend." The only way I survived was by putting it off to see if maybe something was worth it. It was SO worth it. I have suffered and cried myself to sleep more times than most people will in their lives but it was worth it. I watched my mom grow as her own person and open her own store. I watched my niece get older and find something she was good at and loved. I saw my sister get engaged. I saw my brother graduate from Caltech. I saw myself love. I loved someone. Yeah we ended things because we live on two different continents but I, a clinical sufferer of depression, loved someone. It was beautiful and easy and worth more than I could have ever imagined. I loved! I thought I never could because I was so broken inside. Moreover I thought no one else would ever love me because I had been violated by a gross man, or because of my crazy mood swings or my lack of any sort of self-confidence. I am not broken or untouchable or unworthy of every good thing I happen upon. I am worth it, my life was worth it, not killing myself was worth it. So for now my friend, start with just not doing it today. Let yourself see your parents again, your friends again. Find any excuse to not do something stupid today and take that as an accomplishment. That took bravery and once you find enough excuses, eventually you'll realize there is so much in this world worth living for, the thought wont even cross your mind. Sincerely a -Survivor I don't actually remember the exact moment when I was. I remember the first time I felt depressed though so I guess I'll just start there.
It sounds silly but I remember so vividly walking into class in 4th grade with my stupid monkey hoodie with the little thumb holes that I thought made me look cooler, and feeling like I absolutely did not belong. I had started to 'grow' earlier than the other girls in my class, so much so that the little target baby bras my mom had bought me the previous year no longer served any sort of use and I was constantly bouncing and nipping in ways I was completely ashamed by. That being said, I walked into school in jeans and a hoodie all year long even though it was almost always over 100 degrees outside (not even joking, welcome to Texas). I hated myself for the way people looked at me and for the way I felt about me. I remember all of the kids looking straight at me during the sex ed class when boobs were mentioned. I remember kids teasing me about me smelling bad because of that stupid hoodie. I remember going home and crying all the freaking time but trying to hide it from my parents. After elementary school I thought it would get better but I was wrong. My embarrassment meant I was too shy to ask for real bras until way too late in my 6th grade year. I also had made the mistake of making friends with the wrong girls and long story short ended up bullied and had to leave the school halfway through 7th grade and this was the first time I had actually wanted to kill myself. 7th grade was scary for my entire family because they saw some of the pain I had endured from these bitches but they didn't see the scars that I left on my stomach from the lighters and matches, or the bruises from the things I tried to strangle myself with that I hid from them. Things went okay after leaving that school but even on the good days it took everything not to put on a hoodie and hide all the things I hated about myself behind it. I knew I was broken and sad but didn't know what that meant yet, I just thought I had done something wrong and this was God's punishment. At some point in this general time period I did see a psychiatrist who told me I was depressed and probably bipolar but I bounced between so many homes with my parents divorce and moves and different schools and therapists that I don't recall the date or therapist that finally labeled my misery. Once labeled, I went to school #1, wilderness therapy, online school, school #2, residential treatment academy and then boarding school. In that time people called me other labels and illnesses that they were just kind of guessing I had since the antidepressants/ mood stabilizers didn't seem to be doing anything but piss me off. They put me on every drug in the book and it all just sunk me deeper into this pit of despair and loneliness. Days were dark and hard but I figured it out. Not everything, God no! But I figured out enough to live day by day and survive without hurting myself or my loved ones (not intentionally at least). I learned what diagnosis I felt was most accurate and relatable and stuck to it. I accepted my life for what it is and what it is not. Long story short, I have no idea when I was first exactly diagnosed but that really is just the start of the story, I think it's the middle of the story that is so much more important. It's like asking when exactly did the sun start to rise? Well I'm not sure but it was sure to wonderful to watch once it started! Thanks love for the question, sorry I didn't exactly answer it the way you probably expected! -Survivor This is actually really funny to ask.
Well unknown human, I don't think I 'know' anything at all. In fact I Know that I know nothing. I write to sooth myself and provide others with some of the tools/ methods I like to use to survive every day. I don't know anything for a fact except that these silly little things I write about have kept me here through the last 8 years of severe bipolar depression and suicidal tendencies. I Know nothing except that I am still here and that in my darkest days, I wish someone had been there to give me even the slightest bit of encouragement and help. I hope no one who reads anything on this site believes that I am writing from a position of power or complete omniscience. This is why I have been asking to share other people's stories since they obviously will have different methods and experiences than me but I am still waiting for permission to publish a few of them. I hope one day everyone will get the chance to share their insight but for now you are stuck with me. If our readers do feel that I am coming off as if I 'Know' all the answers then I am doing this very, Very wrong and I am sorry. I hope that you understand where I am coming from and maybe you can share your story with us too. I wish you the best, from a fellow -Survivor Well that's difficult to answer. In theory I want more people like you, who are curious about how other people cope with similar disorders, to read these and share their own stories but realistically, I write these for myself.
I write because that is how I make myself feel stronger and how I tell myself that I am doing a good job. I am still surviving in this big world and that is an accomplishment that I want to remind myself and others about. It is an accomplishment when each one of us goes through another day without cutting, self mutilating or committing the final act. It is something to be proud about even though media and public opinion says that just the fact that we have these disorders makes us less worthy humans. I say screw them. I am writing for me, for you, for everyone else out there so that we can all fight back together. My Dream is that one day we will all find each other and yell out to the world that we are worth and capable of so much more than anyone ever gives us credit for. Hope that answers your question! -Survivor |