You Can Save Your Life (If You Choose)

Since I can remember I have always said, that if I could, I would take all the pain away from all people and give it to myself. I say that I know that I can handle it, as some others may not be able to. I want to help. I always want to fix everyone’s problems and wish for all people to just live in peace. But there is only so much I can do.

For a long time, I thought that maybe if I just keep trying and trying to fix people, it will work. If I take on their pain and make theirs go away, everything will work out. That is until I realized that many people do not want help. Even if they take it, it does not mean that you are truly helping them, they may be just leaning on you.

Being a giver comes with many joys, but also many sorrows. The truth is, you cannot help those who cannot help themselves first.

Learning from my struggles with mental health and talking to millions of people through this blog has taught me many things. The biggest lesson is that some people you just cannot help. And each time, I realize this it breaks my heart over and over again.

You see, the only way a person will live in peace is when they find peace within themselves. And the only way that a person can truly get help is by opening themselves up to the fact that help is needed, not just wanted. There is only so much one person can handle. And if you keep on giving your love, help, support, to others, you will become empty.

In mental health, you can do everything in your power to try and help someone struggling. You can talk them out of bad moments. You can be by their side at all times. But if they are not going to therapy, not taking their medications, or just not understanding the fact that they need more, then nothing will ever change.

If I never went to my mom and told her about my actions and thoughts, I would not be here today. If I did not go to therapy each week, I could be in bed for days. If I stopped taking my medicine then I would be suffering.

I know it is scary. I know it is hard. But you are the only person that can change your life for the better. You are the only person who decides whether or not they want to fight their disorders. And you may not think you have enough strength, but believe me you are stronger than what your mind says.

So please if you are reading thing right now, go get some help. Please live another day, you will never regret it. You are worth the attention. You are worth the love. And you can be another story that saves someone else’s life. You are not another name suicide will add to it’s list. Getting help is the most powerful thing you can do. And I am proud of you.



Get help

I do get hungry for times when I am fed by the sun hitting my eyes. Then sometimes the hunger turns into starvation and my soul lacks life. It gets stuck and I begin to see no sun, no light. My nutrients for life lacks, suffers. As I wilt away into a star that is starting to die out. That is when I know my skin and my mind hurt. When just oxygen doesn’t keep me alive anymore.

I need more.
I need help.

So I tell the mother of my life, “baby we will figure this out.” She squeezes me tight. The next day I tell my therapist, “hospitalization.” I hear the words flow out of her mouth like an endless river that keeps ebbing forever.

That night I sink into the arms of my bed hoping it will hug me back. When I look at the sky from my bed side window. Then a star stares right at me. The brightest star in that night sky.

One day I will be like that again. Shining, glowing with radiant happiness. But first I must gain help. I must go back to the place that made me feel myself again.

Depression and anxiety come in waves. One day is the earth, moon, and sky. The next is dirt, mold, and worms. And when a day turns into a month, it is time. Time to get help. Get what you need. It is okay. It is something more people need to do. Life is rough, but you do not need to struggle alone.

So that is what I am doing. Going back. To get people to help me find my strength in myself. I have lost it, but just for a moment. I will be back as strong as ever, very soon. I can feel it.

Stay A While #suicideprevention

I am alive.
I say today.
As I think about surviving.
One year.
I choose to live.
One day.
To one year later.

Last year, January 15th, I made a promise to myself. To get help. And to live. January 15th, the day I choose to live.

I cannot believe that it has been one whole year later. Of me going through life. I never thought I would be here.  But I took a breath. I decided to see more sunrises, sunsets. To hear more birds sing. To smell more gardens. To taste more snowflakes.

This was the year that I needed in my life.  A year that made me who I am today. Through the lows, I found my highs. I found the people that made me feel like sunlight. I found life. I found courage. And I found pure happiness. The kind that makes me shed tears of joy. I now smell roses at all times and feel velvet covering my scars. I am here. And I am taking my coat off and staying a while.

You can survive. Not only that but you can live while doing so. Keep hope. Stay that one extra moment. You will not know the difference it will make. Breathe for a while longer. Stay, I know you can.



Keep Your Spirit

I was once told I was broken
Like a glass that shatters
when it lands after flying
through the air

I was once told I was heavy
they said they could handle but the handle broke and there I was again
falling holding the handle
that they once had

I was once told I was weak
like an old sick cat
that can only crawl a few steps before
laying down to break

Little did I know how perfectly fit together each of my pieces were
how feather-like my life would be
how each muscle was engaged in my body so I can lift up anything
any being

my loves
listen not
to those whom drag your limbs around
the person who knows

fight back
take back
your being
keep your spirit.



I Haven’t Cried Today

I haven’t cried today.

I haven’t bled.

I haven’t dwelled in darkness.

I saw a bird.

I saw the sun.

I saw a smiling face.

Tomorrow it will all happen again.

I will wake up and know that all is right.  All is true.  The littlest things are our most precious treasures.

I used to think needing more in life was going to make me happy.  But that’s just not it. Not it at all.

You see all you need is yourself.  You need to see the happiness that surrounds you with your own eyes. You don’t need luxury.  You don’t need anything but your hands, eyes, mouth, ears, feet.  So you can feel each lover that surrounds you.  So you can see the sky and birds flying high.  So you can taste the warmth of the sun on you tongue.  Hear the laughter of life that surrounds you.  Sink your toes in the ground, the dirt.

You can be still. And be happy.  Find yourself.  Find your happiness. It’s the little things.



The Rising of Me (and You)

I don’t believe my journey of life really started until I was fourteen.  Of course I still was living from ages 0 to 13 but they were more of passing periods.  Two minutes of running into people, getting lost, and dropping books.

The summer of fourteen.  Week after week of pushing myself to do things I did not want to.  Going out with those who had no intention of keeping me.  Wearing clothes that made me feel like I was part of a show.  Acting as if I was someone else.  Clothing that was made for someone unlike me.  At fourteen I was uncomfortable in my own skin. At fourteen I was as fake as a barbie doll. Balancing only on my tip toes. 

Fourteen.  An age in which I felt I started believing I was a sad story.
At fourteen I starting the process of becoming a woman.  At fourteen I conformed into someone I was not.  At fourteen I began to believe my high school life would be surrounded by a group of best friends, boys, and adventures.  At fourteen I hung out with people who belittled me into becoming less of myself and becoming more like them.  At fourteen I began seeing my body as a lump that no one would ever want.  Then at fourteen I was diagnosed with chronic social anxiety and depression.  At fourteen I thought that me being nervous was just a normal way of living.

The summer of fifteen. Week after week of telling people I was sick, I was busy, I was with my family. I did not want to party. I was too scared. The children there were so big. Everyone is loud. I don’t even know these people and the drinks taste like poison on my tongue.  I did not want to hangout with people every single day of my life. At fifteen I felt all was too much. At fifteen I started losing balance. Balancing on one foot.

Fifteen.  That’s it, I am a sad story. At fifteen the friends I thought would stay with me for a lifetime decided they did not want me, as if I was their toy. A toy in which they kept around but decided to throw out when they were finished. At fifteen they told everyone around them to not speak to me. They told lies about me so it looked like I was just another part of the hatred in the world. At fifteen everyone I had talked to, went away. At fifteen no one knew me as I was. At fifteen my anxiety got higher and higher. At fifteen I became that kid in class that wouldn’t speak, that wouldn’t want to sit in front. At fifteen I was the kid that people called, “weird” “loser” “emo.” At fifteen I could not bare to talk to more than two people in school. I stayed in my bubble until I felt as though everything was too much. At fifteen I decided I did not have anxiety.  No. I told myself I was fine.

The summer of sixteen. Week after week I only stayed with my family. I did not want to see anyone. I did not want to go out near my house. I wanted to go far away. At sixteen I got so nervous to just sit outside, nervous to go on a walk. At sixteen I started losing the light. No balance to be found.

Sixteen.  I am not just a sad story, I am a bad dream. At sixteen I began withering away. At sixteen I lost my aunt. At sixteen I lost my grandpa. At sixteen I lost one who I call cousin at only seven years old. I was lonely, sad. At sixteen I could not understand why I did not feel loved. At sixteen I doubted life. Why did people die when so many loved them? Why did I live, rather than one of them? I could not take it. At sixteen me, myself felt as though I was guilty. At sixteen I could not get out of bed. At sixteen I found that pain takes the numbness away. At sixteen I was put into a partial hospitalization program.

Seventeen.  I am no sad story or bad dream. At seventeen I was discharged from the hospital. At seventeen I asked, “What’s next?” At seventeen I decided I was going to rise. I decided that as before my rising was not to an eternal life but of living on this earth. A rising in which only I can overcome with. At seventeen I realized the love that surrounded me. The hands and arms of my parents were there. At seventeen I found that I needed to start loving more. Loving of myself more. At seventeen the darkness started fading. The balance regaining.

I have gained beauty. It seeps through my veins, through my bloodstream. It slides into my bed each night and rises each morning. It is covered in lavender oil and sunflowers. The sun shining through my pores making each day become a new. Shining the light so others feel and see it too. I am no sad story. I am a story of love, I am a story of power. I am a story of light and strength. My journey has just begun. I will now not ever let it go. I will continue to rise just as sunflowers do to the sky.

-The Rising

Rise with me.



Beautiful Mistakes

I was sent to a hospitalization program because I was needing perfection.  I was not perfect.  I didn’t think I was pretty.  I didn’t think I was kind.  I don’t look like the girls in magazines or the girls on T.V. My high school experience was not like an episode of That 70s Show. My life is not a romantic comedy.  It is a drama.  Filled with ups and downs.  Scenes that were not expected.  I did not plan on me being the opposite of perfection.  You can’t plan on how life goes. But what I didn’t know was that I never needed to be perfect.  I do not ever want to be different from who I am.  Perfection is a lie that is only true when people are faking it.

I made myself hate myself.  Burden myself with the imperfections of life.  Of me.  The pimples on my face.  The grades that I didn’t have.  The times I get sad or mad.  The rolls I have.  Hating myself for eating a cheeseburger from Mcdonalds.  Hating myself for not helping my grandpa enough when he was sick.

The thing is, I cannot change my life.  I am a hormonal teenage girl, I will break out.  Get over it.  Just because geometry makes no sense to me does not mean I can’t be the president one day.  NO ONE can be happy every single day and every single moment.  It is healthy to be sad sometimes.  It is healthy to be mad sometimes.  It is okay.  I am not sorry for the rolls on my body or how much I eat or don’t eat.  In the end I AM beautiful, even if I still struggle to see it. I am no doctor.  I could not cure the cancer my grandpa had.  I did what I could do and that was sit and spend time with him.

Life is unpredictable.  You cannot expect all things in life.  Perfection is impossible.  Do not self-loath because you do not think you are no enough. For you completely are.  Be imperfect.  Make mistakes.  Learn.  Live.  Life changes in seconds.  You cannot control everything.