It Gets Better, So Much Better

So, bullying is not something I usually talk about for a variety of reasons. For one, I'm very torn on the issue. I do think our society has become a little over sensitive and that you have to have tough skin to make it in this world. On the other hand, I think it is truly tragic for anyone who hasn't even graduated from High School yet to lose their life because they feel that they aren't worth anything.

I was bullied a lot in Middle School to the point that I physically made myself ill with anxiety before school every day. I missed classes, whole days and I will never get that time back. Time I could've spent learning, which I was truly passionate about. I was a weirdo. I listened to different music than everyone else. I was into things they didn't understand and I always had my hands up first in class. It made me a target, and at the time I didn't have the social grace or understand of "normative" behavior to stick up for myself or "fit in". I'm so glad I didn't.

I got really lucky. I went to an "alternative school" Sturgis Charter School. Check it out if you're not familiar with it. Attending there, saved my life. I got to go to school with a bunch of other kids who loved education, most of which were weirdos like myself. I also got a great education for free. What beats that?

Then I grew up, and I found other people who love the weird stuff that I do, including my husband. I had 2 beautiful children. All that drive, and intelligence that made me a target in Elementary and Middle School, pushed me to be a hustler in real life. It got me an amazing professional job, where I am appreciated, for who I am. Nobody makes fun of me for playing video games, or listening to bands they've never heard of. They think it's kick ass that I'm a "know it all". My friends play MTG with me, and are down for a game of League before bed. I am happy. I am loved. I am fulfilled. I'm not afraid to tell people about my sexuality. I'm passionate, and strong. I am me.

If you're struggling. If it is hard, just to get out of bed. If every breath feels like fire in your chest. If there are people in your life who don't appreciate you. Don't give up. I'm proud of you. Just keep going. Someday you will find your people. You will find where you belong. You will be loved. There will be moments, that will take your breath away in all of the best ways. You can do it. You can make it through today to see tomorrow. I promise. It will make you stronger, and better. Someday there will be people who need you. Stay here, so you can be there for them. Keep it up.

Oh, and those bullies. My bullies? They're still right where they were then. Stuck on Cape Cod. Some of them are junkies. Some of them are flipping burgers. Because it doesn't translate. Eventually they run out of people to push down to make themselves feel better, and being "popular" in school doesn't mean anything in the real world.

Homelessness in America

Over time our opinions and beliefs change. For that reason I'd like to share with you some facts, and personal experiences relating to an issue that has grown near and dear to my heart over the last year.

Lets start with the stats:

     In 2013 the U.S. Census Bureau reported that approximately 610,000 people were homeless in America. Another report indicated that up to 3.5 MILLION people would experience some form of homelessness in any given year.

     There are 32,000 homeless individuals in Florida. 8% of the nations homeless population resides HERE, and yet we have the most violence against homeless people. We have been deemed the most dangerous state for homeless people year after year. Our state legislature goes so far as to outlaw us from helping the less fortunate. 

I want to help change this. 

2 years ago if you'd asked me how I felt about homelessness I probably wouldn't have had much to say. Which isn't because I didn't care or empathize. I just wasn't educated, and I didn't understand. 

I went to school on Main St in Hyannis, MA. I talked to homeless people every day, and I never truly  saw their struggles. They didn't show them to me. I just saw them as peers. I was always willing to share a cigarette or my sandwich with them but I didn't really understand what homelessness was, or how close most of us are to it. 

A little over a year ago I read an article on cracked.com, about how easy it is to become homeless, and what it entails. It really spoke to me, although I didn't do anything about it right away.

This year I put a lot of thought into what I'd like our Christmas traditions to be, and what kind of legacy I'd like to give to my children. I realized that I want to teach them about love, and about giving with no hope for a "return on investment". I wanted them to understand how lucky we are and also how much we have in common with those who aren't as lucky. So we made stockings for the local homeless people, and we brought the stockings to them. It was a small gesture but we all felt great afterwards.

Then, a few days ago, I recognized a homeless man outside of Firehouse, and I asked him to come inside and have lunch with me. He told me his story, he cried, and he thanked me, not just for the meal but for spending time with him and listening. Here is a snippet of what he told me:

He became homeless less than 6 months ago when his wife divorced him, for another man she had been cheating on him for 5 years of their 28 year marriage. He became unstable and had a mental breakdown. He selflessly checked himself into a mental health facility for a little under 3 months. When he got out he had defaulted on his mortgage, lost his car and a big chunk of his other assets. His job was not waiting for him. At this point he was heavily dependent on medication, considered himself unstable and violent and had no health insurance, however he did have a decent amount of savings. He went thru over 20 thousand dollars in the past 3 months. Staying in hotels, eating out constantly, paying for his medication, etc. Admittedly his decisions were not awesome, but at the time he was mostly worried about NOT murdering anyone. Despite the fact that he is now living on the street, without a job and coming off of almost all his medication he says that going to the hospital was still a good decision because he can live with nothing, but he could not live with blood on his hands. He was visibly anxious during our lunch, and I told him that I too suffer from anxiety and depression, that it's nothing to be ashamed of, and that I appreciated him sharing his story with me when it must have been very difficult. He once again teared up and told me that his 3 grown children didnt know he was in the hospital, or that he's homeless. That his parents, friends, ex wife etc are all clueless. That he hasn't been in touch with anyone. I gave him the change I had in my car and asked him to please call his family and atleast say merry christmas. I also gave him my "card" because it had my number on it and asked him to please call me if he needed to talk.

This brings me to my major point. The revelation I've had this year thru my own financial blunders and inexperience mistakes: It could happen to me. It could happen to you. It could happen to anyone. 

Homelessness is not always the result of a lifetime of fucks ups. Sometime's it's just one or two mistakes that can leave you on the street. Sometimes, no mistakes are even made at all. So before you look down on someone and assume they have a drug or alcohol problem or that they just aren't willing to try just imagine the hundreds of ways circumstances could put YOU in their shoes.

I'm not saying I'm gonna make a huge difference in the homeless populace. I'm probably not. But I AM going to treat them with dignity and respect. I'm going to continue to have lunch with people I know need it, and I'm going to bring some dollar store necessities to the homeless camps when I can. I'm going to treat these people like they're my friends because any one of my friends could easily be in their position. 

Enjoying the small things

Sometimes depression can be an abyss that you can't imagine escaping from. It can be so very heavy.  The weight of it can push you so deep into the darkness that you can't picture a life with any light at all. The last week has been like this for me.

Some people will tell you that you can't give into it at all or that you have to fight it every single day. Others may say that there's nothing you can do about it, that it's a hormone imbalance and you need medication. I have my own view.

For me depression has been a lifelong struggle. I can remember battling it long before I knew the proper name for it. When bad things happen I spiral. When good things happen I have trouble recognizing them and truly feeling the joy in them.

So when my grandma died immediately after I lost my job and I sprained my ankle on my trip back home I spiraled. I laid in bed all day. I took 4 hour naps. I had anxiety attacks about leaving my bedroom. I couldn't breathe when the phone rang. I stopped talking to my friends and family. I hid, and I only came out to perform the basic functions of being a mother. I didn't play with my children. I fed them and bathed them but I did not take joy in them.

I let my depression win. I let grief and anxiety cripple me... but I knew I would take myself back. This is how I manage what has and will continue to be my disease. I ate ice cream and didn't exercise. I barely left the house. I gave it 7 days. And on the 7th day, today I took myself back. I got up and I watched my children play in the sunlight on our porch and I laughed with them. I smiled. I played. I made dinner for my family. I tickled my babies. I talked to my son about his day. I played video games with him. I did laundry.  I exercised. I went for a walk with my family. I watched the sunset through a rainstorm and appreciated the symbolism. I took a long shower. I shaved. I kissed my children. I had sex (sorry mom). I laid with my baby and snuggled him to sleep and was thankful for all the blessings in my life. I found things to be grateful for instead of things to be angry or sad about. I took joy in the little things.

This does not mean my war with mental illness is over. It means that I have won a very small battle. A victory that I should, and will, celebrate. Today I chose to chisel out my own happiness. My world is a little bit brighter. Will I have an anxiety attack tomorrow?  Probably. But I have promised myself that I will pick up my baby and squeeze him and remember how lucky I am to have such abundant love in my life.