What the Juice WRLD documentary teaches us about addiction and mental health

"Okay, I get it, I understand/ There's people here to hold my hand, But what happens when, happens when, I can't comprehend someone holding my hand?"

-Juice Wrld, 'Feel Alone' 

Watching the Juice WRLD documentary 'Into the Abyss' this week, I feel so many mixed emotions on the topics of addiction and mental health. I'm seeing a wide range of opinions online about whether the people around him could have or should have done more, if they were enabling him, or if maybe the outcome of his death is what he had hoped for. 

After my struggles with mental health left me flirting with death in the past, I have some thoughts of my own.

Disclaimer: I am not a doctor or mental health professional, these are thoughts I have come to as a result of my own lived experience.

Addiction is complicated

Addiction is a complicated disease, and many people are still learning how to understand it. For loved ones of those suffering, it can be hard to know what to do, because what worked for one person, might not work for another. Everyone's "bottom" is different, the circumstance that leads them to either asking for, or accepting help, and beginning on their recovery journey. Knowing there's not a one-size-fits-all approach to recovery, loving someone suffering can be challenging. You want to help them more than you want anything in life, you wish for nothing, apart from that person getting clean. But you can't want it for someone. You cannot love someone out of addiction. Unfortunately, it is bigger than that. If we were able to love people out of addiction, it might not be the problem it is. 

Recovery is not one-size-fits all

So what do you do if you can't love them through it? Do you leave? Maybe. If that would is necessary for your mental health and you feel that by staying in the person's life you are enabling them, or continuing to allow them to be addicted, then maybe it's an option to consider. 

If you try to force someone into recovery for anything: addiction, mental health issues, etc., it won't last long term. That person has to want it for themselves and be ready to accept help and commit to the process. That person has to commit that if, and when they mess up, because they will, recovery is not perfect and not easy, that they will not allow that slip to let them backslide, but they will dust themselves off and continue trying to do better. In AA, they say progress not perfection for a reason.

I went into treatment for my depression and severe anorexia in late September 2016. I absolutely was not ready to recover. I was in emotional turmoil, and convinced myself that my illnesses were keeping me safe. I was not ready for the help. I was forced into it, so it didn't stick. I continued sending back meals, not sticking with my treatment plan, and continued losing weight. My final semester of college was on the line if I couldn't keep up with my schoolwork, and I was unable to attend work, due to being hospitalized. For some people, that would be bottom. Not being able to walk around campus, or go out for drinks with your friends on your 21st birthday, that would be bottom. 

But it wasn't for me.

Depression, anxiety, other mental illnesses or addiction don't discriminate

Watching the Juice WRLD documentary, if people weren't listening closely to his lyrics and the messages he shared with his fans, one might think he was happy. He was always smiling, laughing, and hanging out with his friends. He was close with his mom, had a girlfriend, and he had all the money in the world at 19-years-old. 

But he wrote: "You can see the pain in my laugh/ Demons comin' back from the past/ Feelin' like I'm bought to relapse/ Voices in my head/ All I can hear them say is 'everybody wants me dead'/ I'm already dead/ - I've been dead for years"

It broke my heart to hear him say he wrote the lyrics that he did, in order to have conversations with his friends about what he was saying.

A lot of people don't understand mental illness/addiction

I saw someone on Twitter say, "haven't you ever loved someone with addiction?" Like the person receiving that question should be ashamed they didn't have their level of knowledge on addiction. It's hard, if not impossible, to understand something you've never experienced first-hand, either yourself, or loving someone who has had the experience, and witnessing it through them. 

I hope you, or someone you know and love didn't experience this first hand. I wish no one had to. 

But, I think it's wrong to shame people who don't intrinsically have that knowledge. If we're hoping that the people who aren't familiar with addiction or mental illness are compassionate, we have to meet them with compassion as well.

Having open conversations that start with, "This is what I've experienced..." "This is what I witnessed..." or "This is what I've learned" can go a long way in helping people understand who have not experienced it themselves.

I always try to speak as openly as I can about what I go through with my depression, because I want people to understand. I want people to understand how they can best help me, and anyone else who might be going through the same things. 

This, I understand is not a comfortable approach for every person, so that's why I do it. 

For example, I've shared: I have great friends, I am close with my mom and my sister, but sometimes when I'm experiencing a bout of depression, it is impossible for me to feel that love is real, that it is there. Depression convinces me I am alone.

Conversation is powerful

The only way, I believe to understand is to have conversations. It makes me so incredibly happy to see a widespread conversation around mental health and addiction being had. Conversations help facilitate understanding, eliminate shame or taboo, and help those suffering feel supported and safe. 

I will never forget feeling so ashamed that I was going to therapy while I was in college. I would lie to my friends about where I was going, say I had a doctor's appointment, and not specify any further. The first time a friend told me he also went to therapy, I immediately felt like a weight was lifted off of my shoulders and felt more connected to him. I was surprised through conversation to learn just how common it was among my friend group. I thought, why hadn't we talked about this sooner?

Suffering in silence is incredibly lonely and isolating. Conversations about how someone is feeling, the thoughts that are running through their head, and if you have an experience that makes them feel not alone that you can share, can save lives.

Getting help is brave

If you think you need help, if you think you could benefit from any kind of support or service, you should. Regardless of whether or not you're insured, there are resources available to you either free or low cost. Some churches offer support groups, there is AA, NA, there are other support groups for grief, eating disorder recovery, etc. Organizations like the National Alliance on Mental Illness (find your local chapter) can help you pinpoint resources offered in your community that can best help you.

Getting help is scary. At first. 

When I entered treatment, I felt like a lost cause. I had lost half my bodyweight and my organs were shutting down. I was so depressed, I didn't care if I lived or died. How could I possibly recovery? I thought to myself. I am too far gone, I might as well give up. 

Recovering is hard.

There will be times you will mess up. Probably many times. You are human. Do not let that completely derail your willingness and commitment to trying. It will be emotional. You will probably encounter emotions you've been trying very hard not to feel, or you will have memories you have tried very hard to suppress. 

There will be times when you'll be angry, upset, and want to quit. 

Don't.

Recovery is worth it.

When I was in treatment, I heard a girl, who was also suffering from an eating disorder say that she wanted to recover so she could ride horses again. 

Why am I here? I thought. So I can go home. I told my doctors, knowing full well, in the mindset I was in, if I were to go home, I would relapse.

What are your goals they asked me, it can't be go home.

I wanted to play sports on a team again. I wanted to be able to wear jeans and have them fit me like a woman, not a child. I wanted to be able to go on dates, and hangout with my friends. I wanted to experience life.

What's your why? Why are you here?

If you or someone you love needs help, the national help line for the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration is 1-800-622-4357

The National Suicide Prevention Line is 1-800-273-8255

"You don't look depressed"

"You don't look depressed, you always look so happy!" "What do you have to be depressed about?" "You're too young/pretty (insert other offensive adjective here) to be depressed"

"Yeah, but you don't look depressed."

Well, thank you, it's because I'm dead inside most of the time. 

I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder as a child. Although it's something I talk very openly about, I still feel some shame in the diagnosis. I know I am extremely privileged, and realistically, there is nothing for me to be depressed about. I am close with my family, I have great friends, I have a roof over my head, clothes on my back, and food on the table. I am able-bodied and healthy for the most part. I was fortunate enough to attend and graduate college and secure a full-time job in the industry I love. I have a pet. I am able to pay my bills and have a little extra left over each month to buy random crap on Amazon as fleeting thoughts pop into my head. 

With all that being said, this is not a brag. I fully acknowledge that I have no reason to be depressed. 

And yet, here I am. 

I've struggled since I was seven years old and still struggle today as a 25-year-old woman. Sometimes between therapy sessions, I feel so overwhelmingly sad that I feel like I may have to phone a friend to come over with an extra large spatula to scrape me up out of my bed to start the day. And there's no reason for it other than I'm just fucking sad and I don't know why. 

Being someone who talks so openly about my struggles, sometimes it feels extra difficult for me to tell someone when I'm in the headspace of feeling depressed. Sometimes more often than not, I don't know. I sleep more, I forget to brush my teeth or eat dinner, and I quit working out cold turkey. In the moment I'm not able to equate it to depression. I know these things will make me feel "good", but depression makes it impossible to do them. 

Sure, I could go for a run, OR I could take a nap. Sure, I could journal, OR I can see how many days in a row I can wear the same pajamas. Sure, I could eat a healthy meal and get sunshine, or I could not open the blinds all day and forget when the last time I'd eaten was. 

Sometimes it feels hard for me to admit when I'm struggling, because I feel like someone will react by rolling their eyes and saying, "Oh this again!?" 

Or worse, asking "why?"

"I'm really depressed today," I say, hoping to feel some kind of solace from the person I'm talking to.

"Why?" they'll ask, in genuine or feigned sympathy, who really knows.

"Uhh, well, because I have d e p r e s s i o n," I think, "So, likely, you know, it's that. The chemical imbalance is well, unbalanced as of right this second." 

It feels frustrating when someone asks why when you say you're feeling depressed or anxious, because more often than not, there's no reason for it. 

When someone has a migraine, you don’t ask why? You offer Advil, or suggest some rest, if someone has a stomachache, you suggest tea or ginger, not "Ugh, why do you have diarrhea again?!" "You're taking Tums again?!" 

It happens. 

When someone says they’re feeling depressed or anxious, let's stop asking "why", because it's not helpful. We need to retrain or brain and reframe our perspective of how we talk to people suffering with mental health issues. Instead, let’s try asking “What can I do?” “How can I help?” 

Asking a person who struggles with anxiety or depression “why” puts added pressure on them when they’ve already displayed courage by opening up and telling someone they are struggling, or having a rough day. Asking “why” can potentially make them feel ashamed, or like they have been a bother and shouldn’t have opened up at all. 

Instead, let’s say “I’m sorry you’re feeling that way, is there anything I can do to help?”

 If it’s the first time someone is opening up to you about their struggles, you can say, “Thank you for trusting me enough to confide in me, what would be the most helpful thing from me right now?” 

Each person is different, sometimes they might need you to just listen and to do so without judgment. Listen without questioning their feelings or trying to offer a solution. Listen and be a friend. Sometimes just knowing someone is there helps to relieve a lot of weight off someone’s shoulders. 

Maybe the person needs space and they’re opening up to you to tell you that if they haven’t been the best communicator lately, it has nothing to do with you. Maybe the person has been going through a bout of depression and for them, getting up in the morning and brushing their hair and their teeth is a win. 

They’re asking for patience. Offer it and reassure them the door will be open whenever they’re ready to be in touch again or if they need an ear. This will help take the pressure off them of feeling like they have to keep up with everyone in their contacts list and/or on social media, or they feel like “a bad friend,” when in reality, they’re struggling just to get out of bed in the morning and get through their day amid the haze. 

Mental health is just like physical health. You need to take care of it, or you will not feel well.

If someone is feeling depressed or anxious or has a stomachache or a migraine, it needs to be addressed, regardless of how it's done.

I've learned firsthand that when you fail to address your mental health, you can become physically ill. Sometimes we need a little help or to know someone cares about us enough to ensure we're taking proper care of ourselves.

Let's start by dropping the "why" and asking "how" how can I help? What do you need from me? What can I do? 

Listen to the answer and honor it, honor what the person says without judgment.

Don't let suffering be in vain

    “There are far too many silent sufferers.  Not because they don't yearn to reach out, but because they've tried and found no one who cares.” -Richelle E. Goodrich

*disclaimer: my posts are solely based on my own personal experience and are not intended to substitute professional help. I am in no way implying addiction or any disorder can be treated without professional guidance. I simply intend to raise awareness about creating and open dialogue and sharing resources to help others 

 I know this post will likely be unpopular or may come across as insensitive, but I've watched it far too many times to not comment on it.

When I was suffering with severe anorexia and depression, I questioned over and over, "what does this mean?" There has to be a reason for my suffering.

"God doesn't give you anything you can't handle," I was told over and over ad nauseum, which frustrated me.

Clearly, I cannot handle this, I thought to myself. I am suffering so much I am literally dying more and more by the day.

My spirit went first, which to me was the hardest to handle, as someone who is grounded in faith. Then  my physical body quickly deteriorated thereafter as a result of the sadness.  

"You have a voice" the people close to me told me. "That is the purpose. You have to share your story."

As a senior in college, that was the absolute last thing I wanted to do, was potentially call attention to myself. I don't think I'm special in any sense, I didn't feel like I had achieved any great feat, and I definitely didn't want sympathy. 

I knew once I left treatment, I could go back to my life of school and work and hanging out with my friends, and pretend like nothing happened and I was totally fine, or I could give meaning to my suffering, and maybe in the process help other families.

I could not pretend I was just fine, because I wasn't. My family wasn't.

My family walked on eggshells for two years after I was discharged from the hospital, treating every word they said to me, every hug as if I was just a second away from folding into myself and disappearing. 

I could not pretend everything was fine, because I'd be lying. 

I knew there was a reason for my suffering. 

My mom cried many nights when I was in the hospital, unable to relate to what I was going through. 

She didn't understand why her daughter, who had always loved baked ziti and fought with her sister over a bag of Dorito's could not "just eat". She did not understand what "reason" I had to be depressed; I had a job, I was attending a private university on scholarship, I had friends and family, I had a roof over my head, clothes on my back, and food available to me, if only I would "just eat". 

There were little resources for her to go to, to try to understand depression and eating disorders. People weren't talking about their experiences with raw honesty. 

No one had said that even if you have health insurance, you might be denied treatment because you weren't "sick enough." And then once they viewed you as "sick enough," you could be "too sick" for treatment, and they would view you as a liability in case God forbid you died in their care. This is a real scenario my family was told. 

I was determined from that point on, if anyone had any questions about depression or eating disorders, I would answer them, whether that be about treatment itself, how to access it or my experience it, I would never be offended by a question, instead grateful that it was asked and someone was seeking information. I lived it, I could tell them first-hand. For anyone who doesn't know what depression or eating disorders are, what happens when you experience it, I want them to ask, because if they encounter someone else who is suffering, I want them to have the knowledge to help them, and maybe even 1/10 of them understand in that moment. 

Educating people about mental health and eating disorders feels like it has become my life purpose. Not by choice, but out of a sense of obligation. I know too much not to share it. I'm able to potentially help families, so why would I not? Out of pride? Have you met me....ever? Have you read anything I've written about myself... ever? 

Maybe that's why I don't understand the people who choose to be silent. If you've lost someone as a result of mental health, addiction, or anything else, why are you not using your free time to raise awareness? As someone with first-hand experience, you have an opportunity to educate others about mental health or addiction to try to help them understand what their loved one is experiencing, and raise awareness about resources offered for people who might be suffering. You have the opportunity to make it known that you're a compassionate ear for people, that speaking to you is safe. You understand. 

Maybe not everyone wants this opportunity or responsibility, but you have to acknowledge that you have it. For the person you loved. 

An artist I love so much passed away last year as a result of addiction. The entire time he was alive, he always openly spoke about addiction and depression and anxiety. He had a platform, he knew it, and used it. 

After he died, his mom launched a foundation in his honor to raise awareness and help families connect with resources for mental health care and addiction treatment. However, the "closest" to him his manager, his "fiance" were silent, never linking to the mother's foundation or linking to other helpful resources. Instead, they often opted to use their large platform to post self-serving materials, ads and links that would make them money. Very rarely, if ever did they talk about addiction or mental health, or link their followers to resources to help others who might be experiencing something similar as their loved one had. 

I understand everyone grieves differently, but if you're able to post an ad, you're able to link a resource to an organization to help someone. That's not revealing anything personal about your situation, but you never know who might be scrolling on your page and need that information. That information could save their life. 

If you loved someone and lost them to something like that, why would you not want to help other families escape a similar fate if you could?

Don't you wish someone had been able to share something with your loved one that might have been able to connect with them?

We need to talk openly about these things, because there is still a wide stigma about doing so. Perpetuating that stigma by silence only ensures that people who need help and could benefit from it, may feel like they cannot do so. This is damaging not only to the sufferer, but their wives, husbands, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, etc. 

Even if you have 100 followers, you have a responsibility. Of those 100 people, you don't know who may be suffering and can benefit from a resource or hearing your personal experience, if you feel comfortable and are ready to share. 

Here are some resources that helped me and my family: 

National Alliance on Mental Health (has local chapters, search your state/city, some chapters offer support groups online or via phone, and other localized resources)

National Eating Disorder Association

Making resolutions with intention

 I've hated New Year's Resolutions ever since the year I vowed to stop cursing. The second the ball dropped, my mom leaned in to hug me, spilling champagne on my lap in the process, 

"Oh what the f-!" I exclaimed. At that moment the whole year ahead flashed before my eyes and I felt shame that I had already 'failed' and had a whole year to live before I could try again.

From that point on, I shifted my perspective and instead looked at each week and each new day as an opportunity to set short-term goals and achieve something that would make me happy and feel accomplished. 

Given my history with depression, sometimes 'accomplished' for the day was as simple as getting out of bed and brushing my teeth and hair. My depression taught me to celebrate the small victories. 

Another reason I hate resolutions, is because they are rarely concrete or measurable. 

"I want to save more" - How much? By when? What habits are you going to change or implement to reach that goal?

"I want to workout more" - What are you going to do? Walk/run, etc.? How often is realistic for your lifestyle to go? Maybe it's once a week, twice, or going for walks on the weekends with your kids. Set a realistic goal for yourself to give yourself the greatest chance for success. You are not going to go to the gym every day, you are not going to spend more than an hour. Take stock of what you're currently doing and what habits you can implement that you are likely to stick to. 

The idea of resolutions are great, in theory, if they are made with intention behind them. Sure, I'd love to find myself with $100,000 in 2021, but it's unlikely. If I can save $1,000, that would be great and more attainable considering I live on a journalist's salary. 

I've always, always hated the resolution "to lose weight" in the new year. Again, it's about the intent behind the resolution. Why do you want to lose weight? In that thinking, it implies there is something wrong currently. 

My mom told me this was among her resolutions, "the traditional lose weight, etc., etc.," it made me sad, because my mom is perfect just how she is and I mean that with every fiber of my being. 

Setting the intention to lose weight in the new year for the sake of seeing a lower number on the scale doesn't cut it. It implies that once you reach a certain number, you will be happy. Wrong. Lower numbers on the scale won't bring you happiness I promise you.

I spent years and years of my life late December promising myself I would be smaller in the new year. "when I reach this pant size," "when I work out this many times a week," "when I drink x amount of gallons of water," "run x amount of miles." I never stuck with it past the second week. I overwhelmed myself to the point of obsession and I overdid it. My mindset was unhealthy and not genuine. I didn't want to do any of those things for a healthy reason. 

Looking through old journals, I feel sad for that girl who wrote that year after year. I feel no sense of accomplishment related to the time I've spent trying to force myself smaller.

At my smallest pant size, I was the most unhappy. I had cut too many things from my diet, I didn't want to go out with my friends for dinner or drinks, and I felt incapable of enjoying a rest day on the couch. I suffered panic attacks, which worsened if I didn't abide by the strict regimen I set for myself. 

If you want to be more active in the new year, that's great. Ask yourself why?

Maybe you were previously a smoker, and walking a mile feels challenging. Setting a goal to go for a walk after dinner a few times a week to work up to that ultimate mile would be a good start. Maybe during that walking time, you can catch up with a friend or family member on the phone. That way you are holding yourself accountable, and also being connected with loved ones. 

Maybe you want to lose weight so you can keep up and play with your kids. That is a genuine intention to want to be healthier in order to be able to stick around and play with your kids. Each time you get to go to the park or the playground with your kids, you will feel happy that you can have that time with them. It's a good time to involve them in healthy decision making and setting those goals for the right reasons. They will be proud of your success. 

In addition to changing my perception about how I think about resolutions, I try to keep my goals specific and not time-related to eliminate the possibility of feeling like I failed in some way. 

I used to say "I'm going to work out more," to me, that meant every day, or I failed, which is unrealistic. Or I'd say I want to achieve X by March, which is also silly, because I felt pressure and rushed to achieve my goals, which wasn't really necessary. 

Now, I like to set 3-5 goals for the whole year. 

Last year I decided I wanted to move, I wanted a new job where I felt appreciated and made more money, I wanted to teach boxing, I wanted to learn CPR, and I wanted to hit a particular savings goal.

I moved twice during the year, once to renting a room from a friend, and the second out of state, where I secured a new job. I had the opportunity to teach boxing classes, which I loved so much. 

The last two goals I didn't hit, but I don't feel in any means like I failed, because I can still do those things. I still want to do those things. I plan to redirect my energy towards achieving them this year. 

Resolutions are supposed to motivate us and make us feel good, not like failures in any way. 

There's no rule book that says "you must set your resolution before midnight Dec. 31, or it's too late," something I used to believe when I was younger as well! 

Take time to think about it, what do you want to achieve and why? Set your intention, and make sure it's a genuine one. You'll have a better chance for success and you'll feel more pride in the long run.

Happy New Year! Here's to a better year. 

Bye, Florida

 It's bittersweet to be leaving Florida, after six years of calling it home.

I never thought I'd leave. 

But when you love what you do, you have to go where the work is, and where the opportunities are. 

Despite growing up on Long Island, I never felt like home there. When I moved to Tampa in 2012, I immediately felt a sense of belonging that I had been looking for. 

I moved to Santa Monica for two years after graduating college, and wanted to come home. I didn't feel like I fit in with the culture of pretending.

To say goodbye, I wanted to recap the memorable moments that have happened here: the good, the bad, the ugly.

• Meeting friends that quickly became like brothers and sisters to me, and will be with me for life

• Graduated college a semester early, and on the Dean's list, while spending the majority of the semester in the hospital

• Having the opportunity to work for the man who inspired me to pursue journalism as a career. (How many people get to say their idol is also their boss?)
  
  
• Organized a school supplies drive for the kids in Charlotte County

• Breaking my nose (in three places. Yep, lesson learned, the bloody way.)
  
  
• Getting to live with two of my best friends on two separate occasions. Having a roommate you work, live, and hangout with and still get along is a blessing. I still don't know how we made it happen, sometimes

• Getting my tonsils out (finally! amid a pandemic, nonetheless)

• My article about eating disorder recovery and misconceptions about the disorder on the front page of the Sunday Tampa Bay Times

• Adopting my Buddha 

• Fell in, and out of love
  
  
• Learned what I will never tolerate from a man

• Took a road trip to Atlanta with my best friend for my birthday to see John Mayer

• Got to live close to my mom again and have monthly weekend visits
  
  
• Buddha made best friends in Finn and Lucy, something that was so sweet to witness, and heartbreaking to separate

• Took a day trip to go hiking in the Everglades (not as cool as I imagined)

• Got to teach my own boxing class, something I had wanted to do for a long, long time
  
  
• Picked up rollerblading, and skated over 150 miles since the pandemic began
  
  
• My best friend asked me to be a bridesmaid in her wedding

• Felt for the first time in a long time truly free from the wrath of my eating disorder and exercise addiction. Intuitive eating and exercise helped me immensely 

So many more amazing memories, that I'm probably forgetting off the top of my head. I can't wait for this new journey and to create new memories in Arkansas. Here's to the future, though Florida will always be my home.

Man Alone Chimes the Hour

 “Try to imagine a life without timekeeping. You probably can’t. You know the month, the year, the day of the week. There is a clock on your wall or the dashboard of your car. You have a schedule, a calendar, a time for dinner or a movie. Yet all around you, timekeeping is ignored. Birds are not late. A dog does not check its watch. Deer do not fret over passing birthdays. an alone measures time. Man alone chimes the hour. And, because of this, man alone suffers a paralyzing fear that no other creature endures. A fear of time running out.”

 

 In our busy-obsessed, zero days off-esque world, how often do we ever truly unplug and enjoy silence?

We always have simulation whether it be from having our phone in our hands, aimlessly scrolling social media, or headphones in our ears playing music, a podcast, or an audiobook. We're afraid of the silence. In silence, all we're left with is our thoughts: our past regrets, wish-we-would-have's, wish-we-could-have's and the dreams we will accomplish when all the stars align and all circumstances are in our favor, and insecurities. At the end of the day, the company of our own thoughts is the last thing we want to keep. It's scary and unpleasant, so we opt for distraction.

My friend Anne did a post where she was challenged to sit with her thoughts in a familiar space for a period of time. I wanted to try it, too.

I went to a hiking trail near my house, initially with headphones in playing calming music. I felt relaxed, but I remembered her post and thought When was the last time I was comfortable with silence? I came here to reconnect with myself, but was I really connecting at all?

I put my phone in my pocket and headphones out of my ears, and immediately noticed a difference.

In between the sounds of geckos big and small scurrying across the leaves, I heard the crunching of the leaves under my sneakers, I felt my footprint I left behind in the dirt. 

I heard the various birds chirping and wondered what breed they might be. I saw two cardinals in the trees. 

I heard a fish jump up and out of the creek, and back in again.

I saw two bunnies run from the cover of one bush, to another on the opposite side of the trail.

I spot a red leaf among the hundreds of brown and green, signaling there may be fall in Florida after all. It reminds me of this time last year, I was in New York on a trail by my house doing a similar exercise. I sipped my coffee as I walked down the dirt path, soaking in the cool mountain air just after sunrise. I enjoyed the silence then, as I did now, a silence that seemingly only comes before the rest of the world wakes up, one much different and calm from the one experienced after the world has returned to bed.

I notice an old splintery bench among the brush, and wonder who placed it there and when, if they commissioned help from a family member in making it, a bonding experience of sorts, a grandpa teaching his grandson that true hard work can only be done with your hands.

I think of the group of picnic benches on the trail back home, positioned near a charcoal grill. A plaque reads a local girl scout troop built them and placed them their for the community to enjoy. 

I wonder if they earned badges for their hard work. I wonder if they considered that badge would mean more than a badge to them at all, a patch to fill their vest. I wonder if they thought of the benches of more than a bench, a silly project to check off their list. A requirement. 

I remember sitting on the bench at six years old, overlooking the creek where my dad taught me how to skip rocks, and which rocks would get the most amount of skips. It's the flat rocks. It's still a skill I never mastered. I was 24 when I came back and the benches are still there, weathered now, but still sturdy. The plaque remains clear, that the troop brought them there. 

I think of them now, and how they may have left the comfort of our small upstate town, opting for a big city with hustle and bustle, forgetting the task altogether and how much they appreciated the silence.

I continue my walk, and notice a squirrel, frozen in the trees, snacking on an acorn. He reminds me of Buddha, and how I have to get home to feed him dinner. I can hear the echos of his meows in my head. I'm late and he's pissed.

There's beauty in silence, though sometimes it can seem loud. 

The longer the silence, the clearer it becomes.

Oh how there's beauty in silence, and how often and easy we forget.

Thank you for the reminder.

I didn't believe in self-talk, and then I tried it

 "How are you using the word when it comes to describing yourself? When you look at yourself in a mirror, do you like what you see, or do you judge your body and use all those symbols to tell yourself lies? Is it really true that you are too short or too tall, too heavy, or too thin? Is it really true that you're not perfect just the way you are?" 

 -Don Miguel Ruiz 

My therapist has been assigning me homework for the last six months, and for the last six months, I haven't done my homework.

"I'm serious. This week I want you to do it," she told me, trying to be encouraging.

For six months she's been trying to get me to write a list of affirmations I can tell myself.

"Not the cheesy ones," she clarified. "Things you can actually believe."

She said I didn't have to tell myself I would be a millionaire, that I am strong, and beautiful, and brave, or any of those popular affirmations you may see on Pinterest or embroidered on a kitchen towel.

"Just three things every day that you like about yourself," she said. 

I promised I'd do it, and laugh as I hung up, fully intending never to do that. 

It was less about the affirmation, but more about challenging negative self-talk and the lies I led myself to believe about myself, as they came up in my mind. 

The problem is, living with depression, you may know what you should do. You may know what will make you feel better, but because you have depression, you don't feel capable of doing any of those things. 

I'd rather watch paint dry, clip my toenails way too short, or cut the grass with kitchen scissors.

But say something nice about myself? It seemed too tough a task. 

As an empath through and through, I don't like to think too much about myself. I don't like to sit alone with my own thoughts. I have depression. It could be scary there. I rather talk about what's bothering you. I'll listen and help you! Yeah, that idea I like! 

But through breakups, pandemics, self-growth, and self-reflection, I'm realizing, that's not always an option. 

What happens when someone's not there to vent to me? Who's left? 

Me. 

Shit. 

Bueller?          Bueller?        Hello?        No?        *Sigh*        

Okay, number one. 

The day I finally completed my homework, I was really excited to start our therapy session.

"I did it!" I proudly told her, chest puffed out.

I listed off one thing after the other that I love about myself. 

When I was done, I smiled at her, waiting for my round of applause, for her to tell me she was proud of me for finally listening. 

It never came. 

"What?" I asked.

"None of those things are about you," she said.

"What?!" 

Each thing I had listed about myself involved another person, she told me. It wasn't truly, at it's core, me. 

Again, I was diverting the attention elsewhere, in order to not have to focus on myself.

Again, she gave me the same lecture about self-talk and affirmations.

I was mad. I could have sworn I nailed it. 

Another thing about living with depression, is you feel impulsive. You may know the thing that will make you feel better, something that is healthy that will lift your mood and remove you out of that dark place, but, because you have depression, your mindset is: 

"Sure I know what to do, but the healthy route may take 45 minutes, while the unhealthy option only takes five!" 

This to me is the "get what you pay for" mindset. If you go the route of a temporary release, like seeing an ex that treats you poorly, drinking, using a drug, sex, gambling, or any other short-term solution, you have to consider the long-term consequences of that choice. 

How will you feel in an hour? six hours? tomorrow?

Probably not good. You may feel more anxious, more depressed, crave comfort food, want to sleep more, etc. 

Depression doesn't allow you to think through those long-term consequences. Depression is a one-track mind that tells you, "I feel horrible, what can I do to feel better right this second?" and laughs when the negative affects of the short-term solution route start to kick in. 

The more I talked with my therapist and she reiterated the idea of affirmations and self-talk, I begun to practice it, without realizing it, which is probably the only way to get me to do something.

Coming home from a stressful day, whether it be from work or a fight with my ex, rather than reaching for a short-term solution, I would take the time to slow down and acknowledge, "hey, I don't feel so great right now, and what I want to do probably isn't what I should do." and rather than reach for the short-term solution and risk the negative affects, I'd lace up my rollerblades, put on my headphones and go for a skate, or have a cuddle with my cat, swim in the pool, color a picture, etc. and I would end up feeling better, for a longer period of time, than I would have if I had chosen the alternative route. 

When I'd settle in for the night and start feeling lonely, rather than text my ex, which I would likely later regret, I'd say, "you know what? I don't need to do that. That isn't the best option for me based on how I'm feeling," and put on a funny TV show and have a laugh instead. 

Self-talk is HARD! It's not easy to take the time, especially in the moment when your emotions are high and unpleasant to slow down, acknowledge that feeling, and choose a healthy option. But I promise you, you will feel better if you choose the healthy option. 

Don't wait until you are in that emotional state to think about what a healthy option is for you. Have three go-to things that make you feel genuinely happy: maybe it's working out, writing, taking a hot bath, lighting your favorite candle and putting on an album, drawing, coloring, whatever it may be. Have them in the bank and know what they are. 

And when you feel yourself start to get in that emotional place, stop. Take a moment to acknowledge the fact that you're in an emotional state, and what got you there. Acknowledge it for what it is, without blaming yourself, and dismiss the desire to reach for a short-term solution. This may be having a cup of tea instead of alcohol, putting your phone on airplane mode, or going for a walk to re-center yourself. 

It may take half an hour longer, but the effects will last way longer and you will feel stronger in your ability to choose that option for yourself.

You can do it.

I believe in you.