Don't Fear the Word

I've been trying/intending to write this blog for so long that after I wrote my post about turning 25, I searched for a line I thought I'd written. It was nowhere to be found. It's a difficult subject to tackle, but that's exactly why I feel it's necessary to write a a little bit about my journey with depression. I often think of Dumbledore when I think of this subject; "Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself." We're afraid to bring up depression or any dark feelings we may have, but forcing them down inside us only gives them more power. So, it is my hope that I can bring some of my darkest thoughts into the light. Part of me has been afraid that this will cause more darkness, but I think that's just the fear talking. I know so many people who have struggled through this and have felt completely isolated because of it. This is for you. You're not alone. (Back away now if you're sensitive to people graphically talking about suicidal thoughts.)

I'm going to start by saying that I've never been diagnosed with depression or anxiety disorder. It's not difficult to figure out that if you frequently want to die you have depressive issues. It's not difficult to figure out that when you're getting stress headaches at the age of ten, you have anxiety issues. I'm no sort of expert, I'm simply sharing my experiences with you. A lot of these experiences have surely been referenced at other times throughout this blog, sorry if you are subjected to them multiple times.

I've always been sort of a misfit. I would hop friend group to friend group. I was always sort of the third wheel hanging out with a couple of best friends. I suppose lots of people liked me, but everyone seemed to have their own groups established that they would only sort of let me be apart of. Looking back, my friends in junior high and high school would invite me places and I would make up excuses, unable to find a way to express my introversion and need to spend time by myself. Heck, I didn't really understand it. I was a bit of a class clown and back then I was outgoing, so I didn't really understand that I was introverted. I assumed I was an extrovert because I was Chatterbox (my actual camp name) and loved to run off at the mouth. I think that's why teenagers are so anxiety: they're constantly battling not only everyone else's misconceptions, but their own misconceptions of themselves. I'm not sure that entirely goes away in your twenties, but you start to get a bit of a grasp on who you are and how you relate to others. In high school, I sort of remember thinking I wanted to be sad. It was like teenagers were supposed to be sad so I wanted to do that. And I did. I wrote sad poetry and imagined leaving town and my parent's house. I remember questioning why God would let the boy who sat next to me in my English class junior year die in a car accident. I remember wanting to be someone else. I don't ever remember it  getting more serious than fairly typical teenage angst.

Almost as soon as I left high school, I started having problems. Everyone was asking me what I wanted to do and beyond, "I'm going to the JC," I had nothing to tell them. I wanted to learn some Italian so I could go to Italy, but I dropped my classes the first semester I enrolled before I set foot in them. I didn't feel motivated to be in school when I didn't know what I wanted to do with myself. Once I did go to school a year later, my anxiety was pretty awful. It was a struggle to be in class and to talk to other students, but more than anything it was a struggle to be called on. I specifically remember my English class and literally praying for strength to raise my hand and say something before she could call on me out of the blue. Even when I volunteered I would turn bright red. So much anxiety.

In 2009, things got really bad. I still had no idea what I wanted to do and I just imagined being stuck at Michael's and at home for the rest of my life. I constantly, actively wanted to die. I imagined slicing my body like meat with a sword. I imagined driving of a cliff. I imagined jumping off a cliff into the ocean. I imagined swallowing lots and lots of pills. I dropped all my classes that fall after sitting in a Spanish class and being unable to focus on anything because I was too busy imagining my body hanging from the rafters. I lived from big event to big adventure. I would tell myself that after my next Disneyland trip would be when I'd get to go. I drove myself on a trip for the first time that October and I'm not sure how I got home because I fully intended not to. I did make it home, though, obviously. I frequently prayed that Jesus would just end my life and let me be with him. I felt useless. Getting out of bed was the most tedious task. What possible reason was there for me to be on the earth? My view of myself and the people around me became so incredibly warped. I assumed none of my friends wanted me around, that they just let me be around out of some strange sense of obligation or convenience, because what could they possibly see in me? I was nobody. In thinking that, I became difficult to be around. I couldn't think of anything but my own uselessness so I was actually a really terrible friend. I'm so grateful to the friends who did stick around through all that. I drove to the beach a lot, never knowing if I would make it home, but the time I came closest to jumping, a family suddenly appeared next to me. I know Jesus was right there with me that whole time. It's hard to know that while knowing all the pain in my heart, but I know I wouldn't be here without him. Really, I was praying more than I ever had in my life and just breaking down in complete worship. It still hurt all the time, but when I thought I would break, He was always there next to me.

In February of 2010, my friend showed me a Charlie McDonnell video: Song About Love. I adored it, and proceed to watch all of his videos. I had no idea what video blogs were until that time. I started watching other vloggers through him, and came across Hank and John Green. In a way, it sort of saved my life. These men and the community they created taught me that it was okay to be myself. I'd spent so much time feeling like a misfit, I never really embraced the things that made me unique. I realised I had been sort of guarded to who I was and never fully allowed myself to enjoy certain things. That summer I led a bible study as well so I was spending a lot more time in the word, and also going out and having adventures with the girls in the group. I think it was sometime in the fall that I woke up and realised, "Whoa, I haven't thought about killing myself in a really long time. I think it's been a couple months." Nothing about my circumstances had changed very much if at all, I was simply embracing myself more, and immersing myself in the word. My darkest time was over.

I intended to talk about this up to about present day, but I think this blog is plenty long. I will say this: keep going. When you think you can't, keep going. Life may not necessarily get better but YOU can get better. And don't be afraid to talk about depression. Don't fear the word. 

Notes and Changes

Last night as I was making a list of 25 Things to do at 25, I remembered I'd written Facebook notes with summer goals for a couple of years. I checked them out to get some ideas for my list (although I had already written several of them down; I'm apparently terrible at completing goals) and then I started reading some of my old notes. Someone told me years ago that I was good at doing Myspace surveys. I may have carried those over to Facebook as Myspace started to become less and less used. Reading through those surveys and things that are up to six years old was a very interesting way to look at how I've changed. 

My first note is from December 2008, I was 19 and it was that August that I had gone to Disneyland for the first time as an adult. That February, I bought my first annual pass. It shows. I bring up Disneyland at every possible moment. The first note starts with me saying, "If I could be anywhere right now, it would be Disneyland" and that's pretty much the same as it would be now except I might throw in EPCOT as a back up plan. It's funny because I hadn't realised Disney had become my second home after my very first visit.

I was so sassy and sarcastic! Good thing I've gotten over that. I use every opportunity to turn answers into comedy, or a pop culture reference. What alarmed me is that those references used to come from Twilight. Luckily, one of them was a really great reference to Jim and Pam in The Office. I don't think I will ever not be the girl to make references to The Office at every possible turn. 

I laughed because in comments Chloe told me to let something go. Five years and I'm just now learning to let things go. And by that I mean I've made slight progress but still have a terrible time letting things go. 

I still sing loudly in my car. I still adore getting letters in the mail. I'm still horrified of spiders and mistake black fuzz for said insects. I still have a tendency to think I'm not really good at anything. I still love cheesy movies (though I've learned how to spell "cheesy".) I still buy things just because they're blue. I still love me a good thunderstorm. I still hate mushrooms. Dr. Pepper is still icky.

I mentioned a couple of times that I would never get a tattoo but now I plan on getting at least one. I hated beer back then. I would love to go back in time and tell 19-year-old Chelsea that she would one day drink an entire boot of beer. Speaking of time travel, I said I'd only want to time travel with Hiro Nakamura. I'm wearing a shirt with a TARDIS on it so that's definitely no longer a thing. I hated children for a time. I forgot that I did not always have baby fever. 

One thing that is super obvious to me is how depressed I was when I wrote a lot of these. I was clearly so unhappy with my life. I got through life only by looking forward to my next big adventure, just hoping the days would pass. I'm clearly counting down to something (usually Disneyland) in almost every note. It kind of transported me back to that time when I was that girl, a strange sense of empathy for my past self. I'm gonna keep this light and not talk about that until I make myself write the blog about depression that's been swimming around my brain for months. I will say that I do think I am a little bit more optimistic, a little bit more trusting of God, and don't question whether or not my friends actually want me around anymore. My greatest fear is no longer not being loved. I know how deeply I am loved by my Father and that is more than enough for me. I was hopeless then; now my heart is full of hope.

Thoughts of a 25-Year-Old

My mind is like The Civil War: a destructive war in which one side is clearly wrong. Fighting on the side of the Confederates is the voice that tells me I'm useless. It tells me that I'm just a girl who has accomplished nothing, will live with her parents forever, has no discernible talents, someone who is unlovable. It tells me that my life is crap and won't get better and I certainly won't be able to live my dreams. Standing on the side of the North is The Truth. It's the knowledge that I am the child of a God who has my future planned and has created me on purpose for a purpose. 

Yesterday, my 25th birthday, was Gettysburg. To me, the day represented all my failures; a monument of dreams unfulfilled, a milestone to mark achievement-less existence. The South was winning, willing me to sleep the day away. The thing about Gettysburg? There were a lot of casualties, but it turned out to be sort of a turning point, and (spoiler alert!) The North wins. Jesus wins. I have victory in and through Him.

As much as I wanted to ignore my birthday, my friends did not. On Saturday I got to go on a hike in the beautiful redwoods with two of my amazing friends, one of whom had lovely picnic surprises for me. A friend brought me bacon at church yesterday. Other friends took me out to dinner and then (sort of) played Catan with me. One gave me a box full of things from The Office which was so me right down to the argyle paper she wrapped it in. The other made me the most gorgeous cupcakes I've ever seen, covered in things that are special to us. My thoughtful, wonderful friends showed me that I matter to them, that they love me. 

I also received a letter. Ashleigh likes to make me cry, so she told me that she's proud of me and that we're going to make all of our dreams come true, but what I can't get out of my mind is, "I can't wait for this next chapter in your life. You're going to be great." 24 was absolutely the most difficult year of my life so far. But Ashleigh's right, now is a new chapter. I've talked about how much I love the promise of the New Year and have been sort of ignoring the fact that a birthday is kind of the same thing, except more personally. Yeah, it's arbitrary, but that crap year of my life is behind me. But it also grew me. I'm certainly not the person I was when I had my last birthday. I know that growth is what Ashleigh is referring to when she says, "You're going to be great." It's honestly one of the most meaningful things that has ever been said to me. So many people would have said, "It's going to be great." That means nothing. You know nothing about the future. But if just one person has faith in the person I've become, I know I can do it. I know she will support me and cheer me on as I learn to be a person.

Anyway, this isn't meant to be another love post about Ashleigh. It's a post about growing and learning and life. I've had several conversations with my fellow 20-somethings about how we don't feel like we are where we're "supposed to be" at this point in our lives. I advised them to stop comparing their lives to others. Of course, I am a hypocrite. It's so easy to scroll through our News Feed and see updates from people getting degrees, starting families, getting fancy jobs, doing things we feel like we should have done by this point in our lives. We see those people and get depressed that they have it all together and we don't. PSA: No one has it all together. Everyone sees something when they look into the Mirror of Erised. When we compare our lives to others, particularly on social media, we forget that we don't see everything. People choose what they put on Facebook. Most people aren't going to put their biggest mistakes on Facebook. It's so easy to forget to imagine people complexly. 

Life isn't a formula. You're not "supposed" to do anything. There are no timelines, no maps, no guidelines. You don't need to go to college, get married, have babies, have a solid career EVER if you choose not to, let alone do those things by a certain age. You are not defined by your achievements. There's no measuring tape that says you're less of a person because you don't have that degree or that house or that anything.  There's no progress report to tell you if you're doing life the way you should be. You're not a pile of mistakes. You're not half a person without romance. You're not worthless just because you haven't done the things some other person who is completely different than you has done. One day, you may just be given an opportunity that you wouldn't have been able to take if you had done things in the order that someone once made you feel was necessary.

With this being said, I'm going into my 25th year of the precious life I've been given with my Savior by my side, my friends on the other, regret behind me. I'm vowing to myself to do some of those things I can't believe I haven't yet done in a quarter of a century. I'm vowing to see the endless blessings in my life. I'm vowing to do my best not to compare myself to others. I'm vowing to see myself as something other than a compilation of my mistakes. I'm vowing to make better choices. I'm vowing to put my life, my future, my perspective, in the hands of the Almighty. It was always His anyway.

The Perks of Home

Today's post is going to be the opposite of yesterday's post. Being practically alone away from everything you know makes you appreciate the things you once took for granted. I'm gonna make lists because lists are fun and this is my blog and I do what I want.

Perks of living with my parents:

• I was just watching TV the other day and my mom brought me an ice cream bar (oh, my brother just brought me some cake)
• I get free meals. Like, all the time! Whenever I'm home! Food! That's free!
• I can get free physical therapy (from my dad) any time I need it which is fantastic because today I overworked my hip flexor
• I no longer have to spend my own money on things like toilet paper, paper towels, soap, detergent, toothbrushes, and other stupid crap I need but don't want to pay for
• The internet is free!
• Electricity is free!
• DVR is a phenomenal beauty
• I don't have to be in an apartment complex where I can here my neighbors constantly
• Sometimes it's cool to not go days at a time without seeing another human face that Netflix isn't showing me

Perks of living in Petaluma:

• My best friend is close and works in my town and I can pretend to cheer her up on bad days
• My best friend works at a cupcakery
• I have like actual real friends to drink tea and watch movies with
• I live in one of the most beautiful places on the planet
• I can go hiking in redwoods and other glorious places
• I'm near pesto burgers
• There are dozens of glorious taquerias within driving distance
• Hello, In N Out
• The weather here is actually pretty great
• I live within driving distance of San Francisco where endless dreams can come true
• I get to hang out with the babies at church
• I get to go to a church where people talk to me
• We have Trader Joe's!
• I can go to an amazing book store where a lot of authors like to come
• Someone brought a baby goat to church last week. Where else is that going to happen?

Despite my silly mood, the best thing about being here is that I'm surrounded by love and support.

Why It's Hard to Be Home

I wasn't ready to leave Jacksonville. It was a decision I made out of desperation and loneliness. Yeah, I was dead broke, but I didn't even try to find a better job. I knew I needed to, but I gave up on myself. I decided I wasn't worth it, that I would just give up and go back to the house I swore I'd never live in again. That would be preferable to more failure. 

It's not easy being (almost) 25 and living with your parents. I had this lady come up to me a few weeks ago and ask me how it was being back home, my mom standing right next to us. I said something non-committal, and she said something along the lines of, "Kids are meant to move out when they're 18. It's not easy to come back." WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO SAY TO THAT WITH MY MOTHER STANDING RIGHT THERE? Was that supposed to be helpful? Because it most definitely was not. It wasn't easy being here the first time around, hence the 3000 mile move, and it sure as crap is not easy being here all over again.

I'm a very independent person, I always knew I needed to be on my own. Now, having experienced that, it is so incredibly difficult to have that stripped away. I have to go back to telling someone whenever I leave the house, being expected to call if I'm going to miss dinner. I have to justify every move that I make, which is especially difficult amid all the anxiety attacks I've been having. I can't really have people over, which is unfortunate now that I'm back in a place where I have more friends. In Florida, I was learning how to be an adult. Now, I have to learn how to be somebody's kid again. I have to re-learn what it is like to have people in the house with me most of the time. I can feel my family tip-toeing around me as I tip-toe around them and pretend to be okay.

It's not just being back in this house, but this town that's hard. Every conversation I have with a person who is not super close with me (mainly "adults")  is so difficult. I have to smile through all the "I told you so's" and all the pity I receive for being an unemployed 25-year-old living with her parents with nothing but retail in her sad little future. I have never liked small talk, but now it is completely unbearable.

The real reason it's so hard to be here is that I tried to do something to make my life better. I failed. Now, my life is more difficult than it was before I left because now I have all this debt and am so far from ever being able to live anywhere besides this house. And home? Home isn't home anymore. 

Friend Love

Exactly a month ago, my best friend, Ashleigh, flew from Oakland to Jacksonville in order to drive from Jacksonville, FL to Petaluma/Rohnert Park, CA with me. After several difficult, lonely months, and a difficult week of (not) packing and lots of panicking, having my best friend fly across the country was exactly what I needed. I'm still so grateful for it that I'm crying as I write this. That someone loves me enough to buy a plane ticket in order to sit in a car for 7-10 hours a day with me for a week is sort of more than I can fathom. I'm tremendously thankful for her love and support always.

Ashleigh and I have a very strange relationship. She's one of very few people I can spend days at a time with and not get sick of her. (That might sound awful, but I'm terribly introverted, which means I rely on a lot of alone time to recharge.) When we are together, I can say exactly what I'm thinking all the time. I'm like J.D. from Scrubs, but out loud. I'm myself around all my friends, otherwise I don't consider them friends, but I think we all sort of censor ourselves around most people. Having a filter is good (not that I have much of one ever), but I think it's important to have people in our lives with whom we can share our unfiltered thoughts. She's always willing to go on adventures with me, even if she knows nothing about them. In fact, when she got to Florida, she had apparently missed my text with our itinerary: she had no idea what we were doing or where we were going besides, like, Disneyland. She didn't seem to mind. Furthermore, at midnight, we decided to wake up at 5 AM to repeat one of our first adventures together and drive 2 1/2 hours each way to EPCOT the day before hitting the road to drive through the entire south part of the United States. We don't agree all the time (I mean, seriously, who doesn't like bacon?) but we don't fight with each other. Like, we've never had a single serious argument in our 5 years of knowing each other (except she did used to think I hated her lololol). 

Due to our somewhat unconventional relationship and the fact that we openly say sappy things to each other, (okay, I say most of the sappy, nostalgic things), people often refer to us as a couple. This doesn't really bother me, it's mostly in good fun and I make jokes about it almost every day, but it does point to a problem with the world we live in: Friendships are undervalued. Can't two people love on each other and be there for each other as simply two people who connect on a platonic level?

Movies, songs, novels, the media, our family, our friends, seemingly every force around us perpetuates this idea that we are not "whole" without someone to love romantically. Yes, romantic love is great, but it is not THE thing that will make your life fantastic. Friend love is something that should be sought after and celebrated, not degraded by this idea that romantic love is far superior. Friends are there to support you and laugh with you. They point out when you need a haircut. They tell you whether or not you should buy that dress you've had your eye on. Friends make tea for you and tell you when you're being an idiot. Friends wait hours in line with you to see movies at midnight or get that exclusive beer that's only available for two weeks. Friends text you when you're crying and remind you that you are someone worthwhile, that you are a Child of God. They are those wonderful people who enhance your life in unexpected ways, and frankly the ways they put up with us sometimes is nothing short of miraculous.

You don't need to fall in love to have your life touched by people in amazing ways. If you open yourself up to other people, they will fill you with great joy. There's this great line in Regina Spektor's "Firewood" that says, "Love what you have and you'll have more love." We're a culture that is always wanting more and more and it's gluttonous. You may be lonely sometimes, but I'm guessing, no matter who you are, there is SOMEONE who loves you. Love that. Love them. Let that be enough.

To all my other friends: I love you guys. I appreciate your support. You are wonderful people and I'm lucky to have you in my life.