What it really looks like

     As I sit here preparing to write about one of the most difficult trials in my life I can feel my heart racing, my eyes welling up with tears, and the general feeling of anxiety spreading throughout my body. But here is the thing that I have learned about trials. If we don't learn from them, and share that knowledge with others so that their pain might be lessened, then we have learned nothing.
     I am not writing this post to troll for sympathy, or to seek attention. I am writing this post so that others may learn from my experience, and be able to realize that they are not alone in their trials.


  
I suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. This disorder is the result of almost drowning 3 and a half years ago, while swimming in San Diego. The symptoms show themselves gradually. For the first 3 weeks there are flashbacks, and nightmares. At the 2 month mark, loss of attention begins, claustrophobia, shortness of temper. After that, they just start rolling in: Mood swings, depression, anxiety, loss of desire, Isolation and panic attacks My first panic attack started at the movie theater while I was watching "The Deathly Hallows Part II"(The crying started around the time that Snape was dying, So people would have just thought that I was really moved by his love for Lily).  This could also be the time when people look for coping strategies. For me it was eating. Lots and lots of eating.
  After 4 months of having symptoms that I thought were just a result of being on summer vacation, and not being busy, I sought help. I was at the end of my rope and didn't know what to do. I was referred to A Psychologist. I also Learned about Emotional Support animals, and got a dog named Vinny who has been my best friend since the day we met. I got on medication that worked, and my symptoms were significantly lessened.
 
   Fast forward to 1 week ago. I have lived in California for 2 months, and I have been in my Masters program for almost a month. Ever since I moved here I haven't been able to sleep(which triggers my depression and anxiety), I get lost a lot, and I hate not knowing my way around. Add that to 13 hours of class a week, and more time spent doing homework... Not the best combination.

    I came to my breaking point. People use any number of coping skills to help them cope with depression and anxiety: Drinking, Eating, Drugs, T.V., Self-harm, yoga, Relaxation, and Deep Breathing. I try not to eat when I'm stressed out anymore because it's not good for my health, or my waistline. Instead I watch t.v. and when the situation is dire, I Hit myself. in only 3 situations have I cut myself.
  1 week ago was one of those situations. I could not get out of my own head, and thoughts, and wanted to be rid of them so badly. So I hit myself with my CTR (Choose The Right) (Ironic, I know) and used a pair of scissors to cut my arm. After that, I knew that I couldn't do this alone anymore. I called my parents and promised them that I would get help.
   I had an appointment with a psychiatrist on Friday, but knowing Friday couldn't come soon enough, I called another office to see if they could get me in sooner. I had an appointment the next day at 2:30. I was relieved and nervous. Tuesday came, and 2:30 came with it. I found myself sitting the office of a therapist named Judd. Judd asked me what brought me here. I told him about my PTSD, my cutting, and my hitting. And then I started hyperventilating and having a panic attack.... good times.
Judd told me a story about when he was a marine.
  As a marine, he would join his platoon in 8 to 10 mile hikes. Sometimes a Marine would drop out of the hike because of exhaustion. The medics would rush upon the man and fill him with I.V Fluids. Judd and his friends decided that they would not let this happen to each other. When they saw a man start to weary from fatigue, the others would remove his helmet, pack, and other gear, So that he could walk unencumbered for a bit.
  One day, Judd was walking along, and felt hands on his helmet and pack. It was his buddies, working as fast as they could to unburden him. Judd had not noticed that he had began to wobble, but his friends had. Judd said That he was pissed. and he tried to fight them off, unsuccessfully. After a few minutes of walking unencumbered Judd realized that he felt better. Judd Told me, that I should be able to walk without my pack for a bit. He suggested hospitalization... Maybe that was when the panic attack started.

  The only thing I new about psychiatric hospitals, was what I saw on T.V. "Girl Interrupted", and "Shutter Island" to name 2. I did not want to go at first. I thought about school, and what people would think, and what it would mean for my future in my masters program. Judd told me that all that stuff could wait, I needed to focus on me, and getting better. This would mean getting my meds change if needed. 30 minutes later, I was sitting in my friend Emily's' car, and we were driving to the Behavioral Medical Center. 4 hours and 1 urine sample later, I was admitted. I was terrified. I didn't know what to do, so I paced from my room, to the hall. I hate uncertainty and not knowing what to expect. I stayed up the first night reading because I couldn't sleep. I finally got about 3 hours of sleep.

  I was overwhelmed by the amount of report I received was overwhelming. Emily, who is also my mentor at school, took care of everything. She brought me clothes, she got my car back home, and she let my bishop, and my program adviser know what was going on. there were 2 different visiting hours everyday, and even though I only in the hospital for 2 days, I always had visitors. My roommates, Emily and my friend Courtney who is also the relief society president, the bishop, and his wife. It was the time I looked forward to everyday. I was finally letting people help me, and I tried not to think about school, or anything else but getting better. I was the model patient. I went to every group, and did whatever was asked of me.
     I got my meds changed, I started an intensive 4 week therapy, and I am home. I finally have hope that things are going to be okay. I begged God to help me, keep his promises to me, and make this right. After 2 days of trying to argue that i knew what was right for me, he humbled me, and showed me what I needed to do.
I am grateful for a loving God, who sometimes, takes the steering wheel from our hands, pats us on the head, and says "Don't worry, I got this".
I am not better. I try to take things day by day, hour by hour. I am going to work extremely hard these next 4 weeks to get the long-term fix I need to get back to school, and face life head on with confidence.


If you are having suicidal thought, Please get help. THERE IS ALWAYS HELP AVAILABLE
1-800-273-8255National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

wishin' and hopin'

I've been thinking a lot lately about dating, and the beginning of relationships. How they start, what sparks the match, and what makes two people decide that they're a "couple". But more specifically I've been thinking about the first few encounters, that turns a pile of tinder into a smoking almost beginning of a fire. There has always been a lot of rules, and games attached to dating, that I'm not amazed that many people my age adopt Nancy Reagans' slogan and "just say no". There's not so much dating going on, as there is "hanging out", or "making out". Both fine things, but whatever happened to the thrill of the chase? A guy asking a girl "out" and actually going OUTDOORS not just "out" in the proverbial sense? I honestly don't know the reason, but I know that I don't like it. I have only been asked "out" in the real sense, twice in my life, and frankly I'm getting to the age where I don't want to wait around to get asked out; so I might as well start asking. According to the rule book however, this is taboo. Girls shouldn't make the first move, a guy should be the one to ask for a girls' number or ask her out, but I think I might be a skeleton if I wait that long. My point is forthcoming, but first a story.
We've all seen chick flicks, where they make some great and bold declaration of love. whether it be standing below someone's window with a boom box overhead, or building them house, or toting your love fern on the back of a motorcycle to chase your cab down the road; whatever it be, Most of us think, "why can't that happen to me?" But then We walk out of the dark movie theater, shake our head a couple of times, and realize that those types of things don't happen in real life. While I agree that someone will probably never strap shrubbery on the back of a bike and chase me down, and build my dream house, I think that the idea behind it is realistic. I have this life, right now to make things happen. Hell, I probably only have the next 5 years until my daring bone shrivels up and dies. That cute guy at the Coffee shop isn't going to know you like him until you open your mouth. that guy at the new year's eve party I chatted with has know idea that I was about to give him my number; and who suffers because of it? ME! I've regretted ever since that I didn't give him my number. And even if he would have never used it, I would have known that I opened my mouth and told him I was interested.
Dating is hard enough without all the cultural rules, and taboos. Throw away the rule book, and put away the games. It's time to "say what you want to say, and let the words fall out. -Sara Bareilles" Give some one your number, send that text you've been dying to send, Say hello.
Sometimes, that direct yet subtle move, is what will turn that pile of sticks into a raging fire.