The Best Christmas Yet

As you get older, the excitement over the Holiday Season tends to wither away as the need to materialize our affection for others grows greater and greater. We buy into the hype of stressing over purchasing the right gift and budgeting until we cry ourselves to sleep, but why? Why do we do this?

I grew up surrounded by very selfless people. My Abuelo Cepero (he passed in 2010...the most amazing man on the face of this earth) was always putting others first, and I never forgot that. At times, it was hard to watch, because I believe there were those who unfortunately took advantage of his giving nature. My mother inherited the selfless gene from him. She goes above and beyond almost to the point of exhaustion. I love you Mom, but you do sometimes take on more than you should! However, I respect and love you so much for this...and this is why:

I'm no different.

I have had numerous people say I'm insane, including Greg and my therapist (jokingly), because I take on so many things voluntarily just in order to help people. I technically have four jobs...only one that I get legitimately paid for...and that one does not give me the satisfaction the others do. I would rather work 55 hours a week doing advocacy work pro-bono than anything else that may pay a decent amount without the ability to help people.

When it comes to materialistic things, as much as I inherited my father's love for new gadgets, gizmos, and instruments....I much more prefer to bless others with gifts above myself. My grandfather would always be trying to help me monetarily during my teen years by offering up a 20-dollar-bill for gas or as he said " 'ahm-BURgers"and every time I would push the money away. Of course he would shove it back at me and get angry if I didn't accept it.

When I first started therapy, I was actually scolded because I refused help in any way. When our insurance switched over to a very high-deductible plan, the only way I could afford therapy without draining our savings, was to accept assistance. I felt horrible that I even had to do that, because yet again, my pride got in the way. I figured "I'm strong enough! I don't need therapy...other people need that money more!"

My therapist just kept reminding me how important it was to continue therapy. Hurting my pride is not as bad as not healing and maybe losing myself in the process.

My marriage is often tricky because with a lot of things my husband and I are both selfless, so we never really speak up when it comes to what we really want. Especially around this time of the year. Greg is usually so busy working that he doesn't have time to go shopping for me, which I don't really care, but then he compensates by letting me just get whatever I want for like half the year. It's silly really. I usually have a lot of time to shop...so I just keep getting him surprises...and then that makes him feel even worse.

This year...is different.

For the first time, I have decided not to let my pride get in the way. This doesn't mean I'm being the opposite and being greedy. I'm just not going to feel bad when people overload me with gifts and love, because I realized, it probably hurts them when I am overwhelmed with gratitude and find it hard to accept their gift. I know with how I love to give, if someone says "this is too much, I can't accept it," it does sting a little.

Once again I have realized you can live in the gray area and not be judged.  You can give and love giving, while enjoying the benefits of receiving as well.  So I vow to be as excited when my son opens up his new ukulele as I will be when I open up mine (even though I already know I'm getting it. THANKS MOM AND DAD!)

This is going to be the best Christmas yet.

On a more serious note, there are gifts I have received that are more rewarding than anything anyone could buy for me:

• One of them is the chance at fighting for my life that my therapist bestowed on me by pushing me, yet validating my every emotion and thought. She has truly been a blessing, regardless of the fact that it takes the work on my part, there are few people who can drill through my shell of stubbornness and she is one of them.
• Another is the amount of new friends that God has blessed me with that have helped me through a transition I am going through at the moment, and have stuck by me and not judged me in the least bit.
• The last, but not least, is for Greg. Ever since a year ago, when I started falling apart, he has become the most supportive person in my life. Even though I can't give him everything he might need, simply because of how I'm wired, he continues to give everything he can to me. I promise you this, had I married ANY other person, they would have left by now. He has never judged. Only loved. Thank you Greg. 

A Letter to My Rapist: One Year Later (Some Sensitive Material)

If you have read any of my posts from April, then you might be familiar with my post titled A Letter to My Rapist: The Reality of a Victim's Rage. The original letter was composed the day I came across my abuser on Facebook, which I never thought I'd have to see his face again, so even though it may not seem as a shock to most, it was a brick thrown at my very soul.

Tomorrow (December 13) is the one-year anniversary of when I saw him, so I decided to write him another letter, just to show how much more empowered I have become. I don't say that to boast, because it isn't something that comes easily, yet it is something that every survivor can and hopefully will achieve in their healing process.

Below is what I had to say:

It has been a year since I saw your face and the earth beneath me shattered. 18 years of bottling up what you did to me became pointless as details pushed into the forefront of my mind. 

I tried so hard to drown your voice...the words constantly reminding me of my worthlessness and endless desire to prove love through sex. You won...but only for a moment. 

Unfortunately for you, I happen to be blessed with people in my life who stepped in before it was too late. I decided almost a year ago it was time to stop letting you dictate my worth and ability to feel love. 

After months of working my ass off in therapy, I finally stopped validating your control. Now, some of those darkest memories are loosening their grip on my persona. 

I am finally me...the person God intended me to be from the day I entered this world: The empowered woman he knew I'd become from the first time you laid on top of me. 

Now, I know what it's like to love without needing to prove it. Can you believe, up until recently, I had no idea how love was SUPPOSED to feel? 

To think, it was you who did that to me...you had that much of a hold on me! 

I never knew the rush of warmth through your chest, legs, toes, cheeks, and eyes when you feel loved. The overwhelming tears of happiness when someone cares for you as much as you care for them. I had no idea what that was because I always jumped straight to sex. 

I am finally experiencing emotions in the way they were meant to be experienced...and with that...I think i can say I am free from you. 

I will never forget, and never stop fighting for those who have been violated like I was, but I'm done giving you any bit of power. 

I hope one day you will look back and realize that you created an empowering survivor, not a victim. 

Tomorrow is the actual one-year date from when I started falling apart from seeing you. I thought I would be a wreck this weekend, and wallow in my past misery. Instead, I choose to spent it with people who make me feel loved. I get to hangout with someone who makes me smile, and has proven to me that all emotions are beautiful...that I can love and be loved...that I am beautiful despite your invalidation. These are the type of people I have in my life now. These are the people that matter. 

I hope those of you who have been with me from the beginning see how important self-care really is through my healing process. If you know anyone who is struggling, be sure to push them in the right direction, because they need you. If you have any questions feel free to inbox me on my Facebook page here.

Oh, Hey! I'm a Normal Person...

I have experienced so many emotions in the past week, I don't even know where to begin. Well...I guess from the beginning?

So Thanksgiving was amazing, and for the first time ever, I actually sat and enjoyed the food. I didn't think about calories, or stress, or anything that could hinder me from soaking in the glorious feast in front of me. BUT SEE...I have two Thanksgivings. One at my mom's...and the next day at my dad's. 

I ate so much.

No, you don't even understand....

In any case, I didn't think too much of it until I decided to weigh myself late last week. 

BAD IDEA! BAD BAD BAD IDEA....

I cried.

Granted, it wasn't like I had reverted back to my pre-running self. I hadn't even put on inches per say...and yes! I know the number means absolutely nothing....trust me. It doesn't matter though, because all it takes is just that hint of doubt...oh not to mention being a hormonal maniac once a month, to throw me over the edge.

That lasted about two days. Then I got over myself because I happen to have a mother who says cool things like "It's easier to maintain than obtain." So I just cracked the whip and started being strict with myself again.

I know, who cares about all this right? Well I do! Because, when I am running and balancing my diet, I'm pretty darn happy.

Okay, that was explaining my first cry of the week. That cry was a self-pity cry. The second cry was more, "Holy cow...all the feels in the world crashing down and my heart is exploding" kind of cry.

I don't really know how to break down why I even started to bawl like a baby on the couch while texting a friend, eating Fruit Loops...and watching Greg play his XBOX other than the fact that a close friend of mine was overly sweet in her text....and I lost it? I think that whole once a month hormonal thing may have gotten in the way again. 

Why am I telling these silly stories when I typically am talking about serious stuff? Because I'm here to remind you that I have a lot of normalcy in my life too. We are all human. We laugh, we cry (even over post-Thanksgiving flub and mushy texts from friends). Emotions are one the most beautiful things that God gave us. 

I normally hated experiencing any type of difficult emotion, and frankly JOY was not an emotion at the top of my list. However, for the first time in my life....I think I have reached a point of elation. I love who God has made me, no matter what the circumstances are. I love the people he has thrown into my life. My heart has never been so full of love...it's pretty awesome.

This time of the year is so majestic isn't it?

Accepting the Gray

I have gone through quite a few exposure sessions, and up until last week I was appreciating the process. I was letting my emotions shine through, which is typically something I find difficult to do when discussing my own experience considering I have learned to compartmentalize so well.  I thought letting that happen was okay.

Apparently, I was wrong.

Supposedly, because my emotions were heightened, due to me trying to get in touch with my younger self, it was actually deterring from the goal of exposure: To be able to gain control over your emotions when revisiting thoughts of trauma. This means that when I have a rather intense flashback or nightmare I can stay grounded and be able to pass through it without an issue.

You see, even if through my exposure sessions, I was still letting my "little girl" out, it has improved my overall status tremendously. Regardless of being a bit raw the day of exposure sessions, I have not had as many intrusive thoughts or nightmares since beginning PET. I'd say that is progress.

Yet, according to my therapist, I really wasn't making progress because my emotional state was still the same while going through those iconic scenes in detail, no matter how many times I went through them. Well, I'm sorry, but I would prefer not to be a robot when discussing my experience, especially when it took me so long to let those emotions come out!

I was asked to go through my story like I was reading the newspaper...I wasn't too happy about that. I'm not entirely sure why, because I do understand the whole theory behind it...but it just seemed detached to me. Almost as if, going through it that way, invalidated it somehow. I know that my thoughts don't make any sense because it isn't as if being hysterical is necessarily appropriate when discussing a trauma, but neither is sounding like a reporter. UNLESS you are discussing something in third person.

I compartmentalize all the time through my work at the YWCA and just in general when it comes to Sexual Assault. If I wasn't able to do that, I'd be a mess. However, part of the reason I became the way that I am (having Borderline) is because I shut off my emotions for so long.

Don't get me wrong, my therapist isn't telling me on a scale of 1-10 (with 10 being absolutely hysterical or dissociative) to be like at a 0 or 1...She isn't telling me to have no emotion during these sessions. Yet, when she told me to read it like a reporter, that is what it sounded like to me. I have trouble finding a healthy balance.

Let me explain.

To me, you either have an emotional reaction to something or you don't. To have a semi-emotional reaction is new to me. Like to be able to cry, while also being strong, is not entirely something I learned how to do. Being at a 5 or 6 on the emotional scale seems weird to me. I'm either on or off...black or white.

I suppose me being upset over this whole thing is just realizing that I have to learn to be more human and accept that it is okay to be strong while showing emotion, even negative emotions. I am determined to start accepting the gray in my life. I believe I already have, I just haven't realized it till this past week.

Why I'm Thankful for a Crappy Year

Another year passes by, and here I am still breathing...which I never thought could be possible given my circumstances earlier this year. As we pass the time of year where we start listing off what we are thankful for, I am brought to near tears, because honestly I am thankful for everything that has happened to me in the past 365 days.

From changing my lifestyle to be a more healthier and fit woman to confronting the darkest moments of my life and not stepping over the edge. I never thought a year ago that my life was going to hit "rock bottom" so to speak, but I'm sure glad it did, because had it not, I might not know what it was truly like to live the life that was intended for me.

A series of events led me to where I am now starting with the mental breakdown late last year to the near suicide a few months later. Throughout that time I was led to my physician who realized enough about me that I wasn't okay...who called me and said she was praying for me. I am thankful for God placing this woman in my life. She is who led me to my therapist and why I am on this amazing journey of empowerment.

On that note, I am thankful for my therapist, who was the first one who was stubborn enough to match my stubbornness and never gave up...and still doesn't. Although she credits the work to me not walking out, I still have to be grateful for her presence and resilience. Had I not continued to walk through her door, I wouldn't have been diagnosed with BPD, which provided so much clarity for me when exploring my struggles through life.

Without that diagnosis, I would not have entered into Dialectical Behavior Therapy...and without DBT I would not have met some amazing people. One of them whom I believe will be a great friend for a long time. On top of that I wouldn't have gained the skills to stand up for myself and converse openly with people. Additionally, I wouldn't have gained the ability to lean on my family as much as I have.

My parents, my husband, and other members of my family have been huge supporters of my journey not to mention my necessity to fight against sexual violence. I feel that my experience has finally been validated, and as uncomfortable as it is for those closest to me, they aren't going to ignore the pain that will always be there.

Without these changes I wouldn't have returned to the church, and found a church family that accepts me for EVERYTHING that I am. Which is how it should be...I have become a part of the worship team and utilized the gift of music that was bestowed upon me in a way that is fitting. These are the things I believe I was meant to do.

I still don't know what is in store for me...because we never really know. However, I do know that I am on the path that was meant for me the moment I was first touched by the evil that existed in my childhood. I will always use it for good, and I hope that through my blogging and music that I have provided some solace for those who suffer silently.

"And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose"

Local University Puts on Raw Performance to Spread Awareness

This past weekend, I had the honor of attending an event called The Jane Doe Project. It is a performance put on once a year by a local university, Aquinas, and it consists of stories from students, alumni, and faculty who are survivors of assault & abuse (including sexual). Every year more monologues are written as more survivors come forward, and each year it becomes more powerful.

Awareness has always been my main platform, so being able to watch these students passionately portray the stories of survivors made me proud to be an advocate and a survivor who fights day in and day out for this very cause. I only wish that the entire community could have been there to hear the rawness enveloped in these monologues.

Telling these stories isn't just about memorizing lines or even acting well. It is about the ability to empathize with the survivor; to be in touch with the pain they experienced. It is no easy task, especially since the emotions associated with assault and abuse are overwhelming just to hear about let alone experience them.  This cast did a wonderful job and should be commended for the risk it took to put on a performance with such uncomfortable and controversial topics.

There is a part of me that wishes I could hug some of these survivors in the story, or at least know how they are doing now. One of them had recalled an experience with a therapist who questioned whether the survivor's sexual identity was tied to the abuse she encountered. For me that was difficult to hear, simply because I know that you could go through all the trauma therapy in the world, but it wouldn't command your sexual identity. That can be so psychologically damaging to someone who is trying to work through a trauma. In any case, I hope this survivor has found some peace, whoever and where ever she is.

What attending this event has shown me, is that there are other people like me, even in my own city, fighting for awareness, and I hope I can be involved with them in the future. I believe there will be a ripple effect from this performance, but it is up to us to keep pushing for awareness!

It is Time to Start Asking, "How?"

This is the second time I have tried writing a post, having already deleted almost an entire page's worth of text, because I felt like I was just playing word vomit. I'm entirely positive that I was just typing the first thing that came to mind and in turn, when reading it back, it sounded like incoherent mess.

It isn't as if I don't have any inspiration for this week's post, I just have way too much and can't pinpoint the one thing I want to discuss. This past week has been chock-full of accomplishments and huge emotional releases. I finished my advocate training, and because of that, my long-term goals are finally on track. I relinquished a little bit more of myself to close friends, which is slowly starting to unravel a continuous burden I seem to carry daily. On top of those things, I started Prolonged Exposure Therapy.

What is interesting...is that I feel awesome.

When you start digging deep inside of yourself, and pulling out all the crud that has been festering, there is a ridiculous amount of pain, yet the amount of enlightenment you receive in the end outweighs any negativity.  That is where I am. 

This is more than just exploring my trauma. It is every bit of "Dana," that I hid so deep, I didn't think I'd ever let it loose. These parts of me aren't even necessarily bad...they are just quiet. However, as I become more brave in revealing myself, I start to realize that things are looking up. All of this is incredibly scary, but mostly rewarding.

I don't know if my whole "take each day at a time" motto has helped me stomach the stresses of life easier, or just knowing that I am human, and being human isn't a walk in the park. I just know, in the end, something always balances it out. 

So many times we ask, "Why?" and it gets us no where. It is time to start asking, "How?"

HOW will you take the bad you encountered and use it to empower yourself, and others to become better people. We have been given a rare chance to restore humanity by truly embracing the term "survivor." Being a survivor means more than just rising from the ashes:  

It means breaking down the walls of mythology that keep us from healing.
It means ending the cycle of violence by taking responsibility for our own baggage.
It means helping as many victims as we can BECOME survivors.
It means being a voice for those who have none.

Don't let your own perceptions of bravery get in the way of letting yourself be heard. We all are brave in our own ways.  I have been told numerous times that I am "so brave" and "extremely outspoken" and while those may be true, I also have plenty of haters who say I'm "seeking attention" or "irresponsible" and "unintelligent." 

My point is, you don't have to have a blog to be brave. You don't even have to vocalize your story if you don't want to, because chances are you have already chosen to outlet your pain in some other fashion that is changing people's lives. I dare you to look at the changes you have made, and the people you have impacted. Don't be surprised if it has increased.

I understand this might sound like poppycock, but I see it in plenty of survivors around me who may not be as outspoken. Everyone has a super-power of their own. It sounds cheesy, but I think it is absolutely true.

What started off as a post of brief updating ended up with me getting on my usual soapbox of advocacy. 

I love everyone. 

BUYER BEWARE!

Victim-blaming.

We all do it. Don't even try and say that you don't, because as humans we are institutionalized to do it. When you hear a story about a campus rape at a party and the first thing you think or say is "Why did she even drink?" or "Why would she dress like that to a party?" it is victim-blaming.  

It is what establishes the mythology behind rape and other forms of assault. It is what causes cases to be dropped even when there is empirical evidence. It is why society is uneducated and in turn scared. It is why survivors are afraid to come forward. It is also why people like me, while being stated as "brave" and "beautiful" for talking openly about my trauma, experience strain in social environments.

Before this week, I never even thought it was possible that my ability to be open about my history would cloud a person's ability to connect with me, but there is a first time for everything. I am not talking about a conversation with a stranger going sour because I say "Hey, guess what happened to me!" We all know I'm not like that. Yet, as my blog has made quite the rounds, there are people I have conversed freely with that I didn't even know read my blog.

I don't sit here and wonder about what people think about me in regards to my history because if I was afraid of judgments, then it would be quite pointless to have been public in sharing my story. Furthermore being a Speakers Bureau Member for RAINN and a victim advocate would just be silly if I truly was concerned about people's beliefs behind my trauma.

I don't care, because every time I open my mouth, I am fighting the continuing mythology behind experiences like mine.

In any case, there are people that have reservations about me because of who I am and what happened, and that is a real shame. There is this sense me being "damaged goods" or "tainted." Well shit! If people think like that, it is no wonder victims self-blame! It is such a dangerous line of thinking when you are friends with someone who is a survivor, so if you think that way, you better check yourself. 

We are not broken. We are not tainted. Our lives may have been morphed or shaped because of our experiences but we do not become our trauma. For a moment this week, I thought:

Maybe it's true....Perhaps I should walk around with a sign that says WARNING: TAINTED MEAT! BUYER BEWARE!!!

Uh no.

I am the way God made me and that's cool. I love being who I am, and frankly going through what I went through kind of certifies me as an official bad-ass. So deal with it.

Radically Accepting Who I Am and Loving It

I have come to a turning point in my life, one that tests my ability to handle complex emotions and situations. Half-a-year ago, had I been faced with the same whirlwind of what I am dealing with right now, I probably would be in a constant state of disassociation. It is interesting that through therapy, that I am hitting more difficult roadblocks, but I now have the tools to handle them.

DBT has enabled me to not only regulate my emotions through a slew of distress tolerance skills, but also to radically accept my WHOLE being. Tara Brach, a psychologist who specializes in meditation, says it perfectly:

"There is something wonderfully bold and liberating about saying yes to our entire imperfect and messy life."

It is so very true, and I now fully understand this quote.

It isn't necessarily a walk in the park to radically accept life as it is. When I say radically accept, I don't mean you have to accept everything about your life with a smile on your face. In fact, if you aren't accepting the negativity freely, then you aren't really practicing it correctly anyway. I have learned to be okay with the "bad" emotions, but also not to dwell in them.

I have also learned that much of my negative emotions that I just couldn't handle stemmed from an underlying pressure to be someone I'm not. I realized in order to radically accept life, I had to not hide anymore. This past week has been extremely exhausting, but also very liberating for me. While I understand that it might just get harder, it will simultaneously get easier.

There are a few things that help me through this:

• Taking it one day at a time
• Knowing God loves me no matter what
• Having the right support people (which includes my husband who is the most supportive and open person despite myself)

I have gained quite a few new friends in the past few months, but in particular a couple in the past week that have really helped cement the acceptance of my persona. Some of these people I have known for a while, but didn't get the chance to talk to in depth until now. One of them specifically has been a huge support because she can empathize immensely with my complex emotions right now. Her positivity, reminders to take things slowly and not feel guilty for who I am, along with calling me out on the normalcy of everything I'm experiencing, has made this time a bit easier.

Sometimes you just need to reach out to the right people at the right time, and you will be surprised at the support you might get. Through my husband and these couple of friends, I know that everything will be okay and I thank God immensely for placing them in my life.

What's Holding You Back?

What's holding you back from embracing the real you?

If I were to tell you that it took me almost 20 years to accept who I really am, it might not surprise you. Plenty of people go through life not really knowing what they desire, and it makes sense. We are born into a world of uncertainty, pressured into making precise and hasty decisions about who we are to become.

At an early age, societal norms and values are ingrained within our being based on different cultural lenses we wear. You can deny it all you want, but there are just things stamped into our brains because of what we grew up around. So much of our cultural makeup affects how we look at the world, and sometimes that can define and takeover who we should be.

Some of these characteristics about ourselves that may tint our view may be our gender, race, ethnicity, neighborhood, religion, health status, financial status, sexual identity, and much more. I am a first generation Cuban-American who grew up in a very white neighborhood, with all the white privilege attached to it. My parents are members of a Baptist church, so that is where I went for a majority of my adolescence. We were financially stable. The typical American family from the looks of it.

Yet, there are things that happened to me, that we know of, that started to morph some of these building blocks. Amongst other characteristics, other titles such as Sexual Abuse/Rape Survivor and sufferer of Borderline Personality Disorder were added to that list. Even if I didn't recognize those things about me years ago, they still existed and ultimately impacted other areas of my personality.

For a long time my religion was compromised.

Because of a plethora of invalidation I received from those I trusted within the church, I gave up on that part of my life. Along with this judgement that seemed prevalent against people that I just don't judge. I always believed we were put on this earth by God to witness to the amount of love Christ had for us when he died on the cross. I believe we all sin every day and no sin is greater than the last.

I do not believe in judging others who are perceived to be living in sin, because that does us no good. How does that show unconditional love?

I was conditioned to hate myself from these many lenses I wore because I knew there were things that perhaps Christians may judge me for. Things about me that will never change. I'm not talking about my mental status or what not. I'm not talking about the self-harm addiction or any other thing I have even spoken on this blog.

For the first time since I have realized something crucial about who I am, I have decided to embrace it. Despite what those around me believe, I truly trust God made me this way.

You are probably wondering, "What the heck is she talking about?"

Yeah, I know. I have been super open about my trauma, my self-harm, alcohol abuse, and Borderline Personality Disorder, but what is holding me back from being open about all things?

Fear.

It is that simple.

There are literally only a handful of people that if I were to be completely open, that would probably harm me more than help, which is okay. But that small handful, is what's holding me back, at least for now.

So for now I say these words: I am different, I am special, I love everyone. I am not ashamed and thus far the people around me have accepted me as I am, and for that I am grateful. When the time is right, if ever, I may get past that fear, but this is still an early process of revealing for me, and I'm not ready to do that quite yet.

One Last Regret: Struggling With Addiction

Tonight, like many other nights, I was tested. Tested on whether or not I would give in to my addiction to self-harm. This is not the first time and it certainly won't be the last. There are many things that lead to my increased vulnerability, one of them is loneliness.

If I am without social interaction, especially if my husband is working late, the negative emotions that I soaked up start to fester and multiply into thoughts of quick and reckless solutions. Like so many others, stricken with addictions to unhealthy coping mechanisms, I have to fight my way out of the web of darkness.

Granted, I am now capable of picking up my phone and calling my therapist when I know I am at that point of weakness. It is scary to think at one point I was unaware that I even had a razor in my hand until the deed was done and I was bleeding away my turmoil. Now, I can hear that voice in my head that tells me to drown my fears in my addiction.

I refuse to give in, even if I have to admit that I am fighting hard against that urge. Without that admission, I will never rewire my brain completely. So when I called my therapist tonight, as ashamed as I was that I even had to, I knew it was the right thing to do because accountability is the most important factor when overcoming any type of addiction.

Another ingredient to overcoming addiction is finding an outlet that is healthy, and as many of you know I pour myself into my music (along with my blogging of course). Through this journey I have written a couple of pieces directly relating to my life. One of them being Will She Sing, a song about my sexual abuse/rape. Another was You're the Only Way, describing my battle with Borderine Personality Disorder and suicide.

My newest piece, which at the moment goes unnamed, deals with my struggles with addiction. It applies to more than just self-harm too. I promise as soon as I get it recorded, I will share it, but this particular piece I need to put a lot of work into because it is important to me. However, I feel sharing the lyrics would help many people empathize with the internal struggle that happens between addiction and salvation. This can also be applied to Christianity with the constant battle between sin and God.

This particular piece I wrote from the perspective of the addiction itself, in order to provide a more powerful viewpoint. I can't wait until it is recorded, mostly because it has been one of my most unique pieces not only in musical styling but lyricism. I hope that those who fight alongside me find peace knowing that I do know EXACTLY how you are feeling. You are not alone.

One last regret

Take my hand don't fret

It's you and me against the world tonight

If you let go, you're sure to lose this fight

So drown your fears in me

Without my help, you won't be free

Let your tears drop to the sea

Of fallen hope and broken dreams

I'll be your voice

When you make that choice

Just take a breath and leap into my arms

I'll protect you from feeling any harm

So drown your fears in me

Without my help, you won't be free

Let your tears drop to the sea

Of fallen hope and broken dreams

Darkness seeping

Tensions breeding

I can see your strength is fleeing

Silent weeping

Wasted pleading

I can offer you this healing

So drown your fears in me

Without my help, you won't be free

Let your tears drop to the sea

Of fallen hope and broken dreams

I Am Done Being the Victim

When I walked into my therapist's office for the first time 8 months ago, I had one goal set in mind:

GET HIM OUT OF MY HEAD

I did my best to shove 18 years of history into one hour in order to provide a backdrop of my struggles, but while she searched for my ultimate desire in therapy, those words that were floating in my mind, my true desire for therapy, catapulted out of my mouth.

"I just...need...you to help me get him out of my head..."

At first, I felt embarrassed and crazy, but then I looked up at my therapist and realized I hadn't said anything she was shocked by. She just nodded and formed a game plan. In that moment, I finally felt validated by what I was experiencing and knew I was in good hands.

Yet, I was stuck in my old ways, trying to hurry the process of healing because I was too ashamed to appear vulnerable to others. I refused to let my past come to the surface, but my coping mechanisms enabled my therapist to refuse trauma therapy. Her mentality, which makes complete sense now, is that if she were to put me through trauma therapy while I was still hurting myself and contemplating suicide, it would do me no good.

"Okay, so now what?" I'd ask constantly.

With that, DBT commenced while simultaneously being diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. Although I was relieved that there was actually a name to explain what was going on with me and a proven therapy to help it, I was still unsure about when I would ever "feel better." I learned that instant gratification is a common trait among Borderlines and this goal of freeing my mind was not going to happen quickly.

So for a few months now, I have been working my ass off. Those of you who are close to me have probably realized I have made quite a few life changes. Besides not harming myself for three months (kind of a big deal) and taking control of my drinking, I have return to my musical roots by becoming an integral part of my worship team at church, writing new music and covers, been accepted as a victim advocate for our local YWCA, and expanded my awareness through multiple social media outlets. On top of that, I have formed new and solid friendships, which has given me a substantial support system.

I now feel like I am becoming who I was meant to be, and that is why I am ready to take on my past head on.

I realize that my blogging through April may seem like the ultimate form of exposure therapy, but writing is completely different than vocalizing. I can't even imagine speaking those words out loud, but when I start Prolonged Exposure Therapy in two weeks, that is exactly what I will be doing. Honestly, I'm pretty scared.

Some of you may wonder why in the world I would decide to do trauma therapy especially when things seem to be going well, but I assure you it is absolutely necessary. The trend with those who struggle with disorders like mine, is that there is a period of balance, and it appears that everything is fine. In fact, this isn't the first time I have been "okay;" however, in the past I was claimed by previous therapists to be healed and because I was misdiagnosed, I fell back into the trap.

There are friends of mine that struggle with the concept of revisiting the past, when the past is done, but it doesn't matter if its over because the wounds, while invisible, have not fully been irrigated. I must desensitize myself to my trauma, because if I don't, I will continuously be shaken by flashbacks and nightmares. I can't let that happen anymore. I am done being the victim.

So I am going to embark on this rather difficult journey, and all I ask is for the continued support of family, friends, and readers, because I may need some hands to hold. I love you all!

Newsflash: The World Sucks

As I was browsing through my news feed today, I was brought to tears by a story of a realtor who had gone missing after going to meet a client for a showing. It turns out she was kidnapped and murdered.   I immediately was thinking what many of us all think, "Who is really safe anymore?" It is as if we can't go about our normal days without worrying about what is going to happen to us.

Then I started thinking about all the other news articles that have been brought to attention just the past few months. Child sex trafficking, numerous other sexual assault cases, murder cases, the ISIS murders...the list goes on.

A little bit ago, I wrote a blog post titled Rape vs. Gumdrops: Choosing Reality Over Ignorance. It was met with mostly positive agreement, but there were a few who may have been offended by it. Granted it was an opinion piece, but I believe there was a lot of truth in it.

This post will tell you why.

The world is filled with crime. It isn't something we can necessarily escape, as awful as that sounds, but it isn't as if this is a new thing. Everything that we currently read about in the news has been happening for as long as sin has been in existence, which is a pretty long time. The difference is, whether we like it or not, technology has created a direct line to these crimes.

Think about it, if it weren't for social media, would you be half-aware of the awful stories that pop up every day? Probably not. The kicker is that so many people complain about what they are reading, as if they are surprised.

Newsflash: the world sucks.

You can try and separate yourself as far from reality as possible, but today, awareness is just something that happens. If you want the world to be a better place, you have to accept that awareness, and use it!

Believe me, before I started writing this post, I had a different approach to how I was going to present this information. I was going to say that the World is not getting any better, but then I realized, that isn't necessarily true. I think the World has inhibited the exact same of awfulness for a while, but we just know more about it. Yes, there are things that still shock people, even me (although it takes quite a doozy of a story to do so).

If you think back to the past few months, have you noticed that the stories dealing with sexual assault (including campus rape, molestation, child sex trafficking, etc), have spiked immensely? Think about it.

Now, have you also realized that organizations such as RAINN, Joyful Heart Foundation, and the YWCA have also received more funding because of this? Have you also realized that the government has taken a stand as well with numerous PSA's. Do you know why?

Awareness.

The more you are aware, the more you care.

Which is why from now on instead of wondering why the world is falling apart, think about how blessed we are to understand what is happening around us. If we didn't know, how could we possibly change things? Turning a blind eye has NEVER solved anything. If you are scared of what is out there, you aren't the only one, but just know it is better to know what is out there than be surprised by it.

19 Years and Counting (Some Sensitive Material)

There is something interesting I have noticed since connecting with other survivors of sexual assault. There is this battle for supremacy on each other's experiences, and it isn't the "my experience was SO much worse than that!" It is almost always the other way around. I don't know why, or how, but it has been common for other victims to say things to me such as:

• "I mean I was raped...but I can't even imagine what you went through. That is just awful."
• "How can I even compare myself to you? It only happened once to me!"
• "How did you make it through? I am still struggling, and I didn't have it nearly as bad as you."

These are only a few of the statements that have been tossed my way on a regular basis. It is actually quite sad, because I have never thought of myself as any more of a victim than anyone else. It matters not the quantity of assaults, all it takes is one time.

It honestly doesn't even matter the details. A victim could have been drugged and woken up with zero bruises and no memory; she could have been a child forced into believing it was her duty to lay there and behave; a wife who has no way out; or a jogger blindsided violently. We ALL carry the shame and anger that is included with being a victim of sexual assault.

We are in this together.

Don't let what "experts" say about what is classified as an assault invalidate your story. It doesn't have to be some deranged TV-worthy experience, because that is really not the reality of sexual assault. Granted there are those stories that are gut-wrenching and almost impossible to comprehend, but the truth is,  the majority of rape victims are those whose stories wouldn't make the national headlines.

I promise you, your story IS important. 

Every time a victim shut's herself down because she doesn't think her story is worth hearing, she is letting another rapist win.

We are SHAMED into silence for a reason right? So that their indignity can be buried with us. So we carry that shame. 

Don't turn a blind eye to what is happening around us; what has happened to you.

Most of all, don't let small losses in the path of healing effect your overall journey. We don't all get earthly justice for what happened to us, but that doesn't mean we can't create it by spreading awareness. 

I am not sure what compelled me to write this other than I am currently passing a difficult anniversary of one of the last times I was sexually abused and raped. I sit here almost 20 years later, and to me, it is as if it still happened yesterday. I can still taste him, feel him, and it makes me want to vomit. 

Tell me, how familiar is that very feeling to my fellow survivors? If you pass that date, a date other people would just roll their eyes at, do you feel a shiver down your spine? Do you still feel as though its fresh, even for a moment? My guess is yes, because no matter how strong you are, you are human. 

The one thing that is amazing about me passing this anniversary, no matter the horror I see behind my eyes, I get to say that I have made it through another year of not letting him win. I have broken the silence, and I will stand with my fellow survivors, because they too deserve to break their silence and release that burden of shame.

19 years and counting.

I Will Not Eat the Darkness

It's hard to imagine that despite my immense progress through DBT, and my ability to more easily manage my BPD, I still fall off the wagon. I don't mean full-blown laying on the bathroom floor with cuts up and down my legs, but to the point where the thoughts were there. Up until this past weekend, I have barely had any suicidal or self-harm thoughts for a few weeks. This was new to me.

The minor stresses of adulthood were no longer throwing me into an uncontrollable rage, and I was forming multiple relationships without breaking them within the same week. Music, worship leading, and my family were keeping me busy. Things were awesome! 

Then my husband left for a business trip. No big deal right? Not ultimately, unless you are a Borderline who catastrophizes everything. Fear of the unknown became my new best friend once I dropped my husband off at the airport. The scenario went a little like this:

Husband: "Bye sweetie, I love you!" Kisses wife.
Wife: "I'm going to miss you so much! Please text me every five seconds!" Tries to kiss husband back, but the massive amount of tears flowing from her eyes siphons into his mouth instead. She drives away looking calm for a split-second, then falls apart repeatedly on the way home. Baby is in back seat laughing at mama's wailing and mimics her. 

The freak-out was purely instigated by my thoughts of "Oh no! What if this is the last time I will ever see my husband again!???!?!?!"

Now, I am aware that this is a normal thought that crosses many women's minds when it comes to their significant others, children, other family members, or close friends. So don't think I'm surprised by this. Remember though, my emotions can be heightened for an extended period of time. This is why skills are so important for me, because otherwise I would be feeling that dread 100% of the time for at least a few days.

So I kept myself busy for those four days my husband was gone. I made plans with friends, took on musical projects, worked a couple full-length shifts at my part-time job, and stayed with my step-mother for company for those few nights. In all aspects, it worked well, but what I didn't realize was that I was just delaying the effects of my turmoil. While I was being smart by keeping myself occupied, I left out other crucial components of my ability to stay stable. Rest and exercise.

Each night my husband was away,  I got an average of 3 to four hours of decent sleep. On top of that, due to my need to overload myself with projects, I haven't ran consistently for about a month. Not exactly a great combination. When you throw in the fact I was unable to spend the one day out of the year I get to be spoiled (my birthday) with my husband, and how sad that made me, what do you get? A breakdown!

This past weekend, I snapped at someone in public, a friend at that,  then beat myself up over it. Within moments I received a passive aggressive text from my husband (it happens) which then threw me into absolute rage. While I had friends around me that helped me and prayed over me, I was still on fire. The only thing I wanted to do was cut. I was at a function without my husband, so my solution was to just avoid going home. I drove to an empty lot, and called my therapist for accountability. Then I sat there for about 20 minutes until the desire to hurt myself subsided.

The rest of the night the thoughts kept going in and out. The mental exhaustion had taken its toll, and I frankly just wanted to give up. After talking to my therapist, I managed to rationalize things better, but this entire week has been one filled with anxiety, anger, and depression. It is now that I have realized that this "emotional regulation" is a full-time gig, and I can't wait for the day where all these skills become muscle memory and I no longer have to exhaust myself in the process of becoming level.

I hope that those around me remember that despite my faith and love for God, my family, and my friends, there is still darkness in my head. It may not show its face as often, but I will constantly have to be working on preventing its reappearance. Even years from now, I'll probably be using skills on a daily basis, but the important concept to remember is that I will NOT eat the darkness.

A Birthday Transformation: From Victim to Survivor to Thriver

So here I am, one year closer to 30, and finally figuring out what I'm supposed to be doing with the hand I have been dealt. Most of this transformation has taken place in the past year, more specifically, the past eight months. It is overwhelming to think that if it weren't for the people God placed in my life, I would not have seen this day.

I don't like to remember the day I started planning my suicide, because it makes me feel ashamed of my condition, especially when it was not being managed. I had planned to book a hotel room in order to journal for a weekend, something I had thought previously would be a good idea anyway. My husband was doing his best to support me through my turmoil because at that point there was nothing he could say or do to pull me from my depression. All he could do was go along with what he knew deep down was not a good idea.

The idea was to be away from anyone who could pull me back into reality, and I was going to write my story down, and my reason for not wanting to live with the repeated horror show in my head...my rapist's constant punishing voice echoing between my ears.

Before I had the chance to complete my plan, I was placed in the path of a nurse practitioner who went above and beyond the call of duty and my best friend, who knows how to break me into complete vulnerability. For the full story click here.

So here I am, alive, and so thankful for it. I do still struggle with wavering thoughts of suicide, which comes and goes with BPD, but I am learning to manage the triggers that bring those on,  and they have decreased in quantity significantly.

I fight day to day because I know I have been placed on this earth to serve a purpose. No one goes through the hell I experienced just to sit on their ass for the rest of their life waiting for things to get better. One can not just turn a blind eye to evil like that. And I don't. My biggest goal through coming forward with my story was to one day be able to help others.

Now I am a member of RAINN's Speakers Bureau. I have used my passion for music to spread love and joy by becoming a worship leader at my church. I also started up a YouTube channel for my followers on my Facebook page to see how music can be a vital instrument in the healing process. I share original music and my renditions of popular songs. More recently I interviewed for a volunteer victim advocate position at my local YWCA, which would be one of my biggest personal achievements through this journey as I would directly be helping victims.

So yea, I guess you can say I have met my calling in life as an advocate and artist. Nothing brings me more joy than using the gifts and hardships I have been blessed/hindered by in a way that shines a light in this world that otherwise is washed with darkness.

I could have chosen to leave out the fact that I almost didn't make it past this year of my life, but my birthday happens to fall the same month as Suicide Prevention Awareness, it just made sense to share that portion of my year.

I pray that this next year, I can continue to be brave for those who have lost their armor due to being traumatized. I promise to never give up, and always be a voice for other victims. Additionally, I will not stop writing or composing music, because it is through these artistic outlets that the most awareness is delivered.

Stay tuned for another year of transformation.

This Doesn't Seem Right...

I have mentioned before how my husband has grown weary of my progress through DBT and therapy in general, and I don't blame him. When you have been with someone who is as emotionally dysregulated as I am for 9 years, it might be hard to accept their sudden acceptance of reality. I have heard him say, "This doesn't seem right. There has got to be something shady going on here..."

No. I'm just not as crazy.

Yet, I'm not healed. 

What so many fail to understand is that BPD is ongoing. I will always have to be working at being mindful, but that is okay. Eventually all this practice will become natural, almost like muscle memory. Trying will transform into doing, and perhaps one day, it won't feel like I am playing a tedious game of Jenga with my brain.

This week, I had a moment of weakness and lost the game of balance against my mental awareness. It wasn't anything dramatic, but enough to make me realize that I am exhausted from fighting against myself. I don't know what triggered the wave of tears, but I just couldn't stop bawling. I felt as if my world was caving in on me, and I couldn't justify why. 

My only goal at that moment was to try and compose myself as best I could, because I couldn't let my husband know I was falling apart. I mean, I was making such good progress. How does a blubbering woman-child represent that? It doesn't. All it does is prove his doubts that I'm not really okay.

But really I am, but I'm kind of not too...

Here is the thing: I can be both happy and sad at the same time. It is totally possible, although I never use to think so. I always felt that you could either be ecstatic with life, or epically miserable. Never a little bit of both. Last week I spoke about how there were some relationships in my life that I feel I am losing, and that I was okay with that. I am...really.

But then again... 

I have worked SO incredibly hard in the past eight months to not be an over-bearing and passive aggressive needy BPD wart that I can be and I know I have done a pretty awesome job. I am confident I have given the space to those who have needed it and have shown my care for them over any of my needs. I truly care for others more than myself most of the time anyway. I just have over analyzed some of my friends sudden silence as a sign of "hating me" so then I would just end up pushing them away regardless.

So here is what I am trying to say:

I am sad because I think things are changing in areas that I didn't want to change, and I will miss that. I also struggle still with flashbacks and urges that I must keep in check by utilizing my skills and therapist. None of these things mean I am failing though, because I am actively trying to mend these parts of my life. 

If anything, I am stronger now admitting that I am still working hard at becoming whole, than when I was pushing down my trauma for all those years, pretending I was solid.

Really, I'm Okay: The Borderline and the Relationship

It has been over two weeks since my last session with my therapist (she was on vacation), and up until last evening, I was doing fabulous. It might seem odd that I am feeling a sense of withdrawal, but let me tell you, individual therapy is critical for Borderline. In the early stages of treatment, when a sense of abandonment is rather prominent, being without that checkpoint each week can really throw my sense of mental balance.

Somehow, despite being physically ill, and being tossed a plethora of emotional hurdles, I have been floating high. Part of it may have to do with being included in RAINN's Survivor Spotlight Series, which brought some exposure to my cause in being an advocate through my blogging and music. Another part may be because I have had a lot of musical projects to work on, keeping me happy and busy.

I was able to "radically accept" many difficult road blocks that were thrown in my path, but there came a few points where my vulnerabilities proved me wrong. I'd like to believe that being sick, combined with the exhausting life of a stay-at-home mother, is what led me to break down. I am lucky that my husband was able to soak in my tears non-judgementally, especially when my therapist wasn't readily available.

One of these moments was due to a sense of structure being broken down. I am the type of person that if I have plans, and I am rather excited about them, I tend to fall apart if something gets in the way of me fulfilling those plans. Granted, I have improved ten-fold with these situations since starting DBT, because I have learned a sense of flexibility I didn't have before. Yet, this particular afternoon, I was miserable from being sick, the weather was gray and wet, and I was in no mood to be disappointed.

It took all my energy not to take out my negative emotions on those who were involved with the situation and I ended up bawling over the phone to my husband. Knowing how I tend to be, instead of telling me, "You are overreacting," he validated how I was feeling, but helped me rationalize the situation, and gave me the positives. Miraculously, I started to feel better, assured my minor flub would be the only one.

Then last night hit.

You see, I have mentioned before my hatred for Summer, because of my misconnection with a lot of my friends. I have rationalized over and over to myself, "Summer means busy. Let it be. Don't worry. Eventually, you will be able to talk and see these people again!" It worked for a long time, until earlier in this week I was made aware that maybe, just maybe, I have pushed some people away, without even trying this time.

My relationships have always been rocky, and one of my biggest goals with DBT was to improve upon this, because I was sick of being the type of person that burned bridges by pushing people away.  Fear of abandonment has an interesting way of materializing with me. As soon as someone wouldn't be unresponsive, I immediately would ruminate on what I did wrong, but then get angry and just say something hurtful, so I didn't feel as hurt. This typically resulted in many friends washing their hands of me, and frankly I don't blame them.

For a while now, I have been working on this. Giving people space by not jumping to conclusions when they aren't readily available, and networking with more than a few people in order to not overly-attach to one particular person. Yet, I still think, despite my efforts, I have done something wrong. No matter what I do with some certain people, I am left out in the cold.

So last night, instead of "radically accepting" that these friendships may be over, I just lost it. I don't think I have cried that hard in a long time. Maybe it is because I poured so much trust into these newer relationships, in an effort to be vulnerable, and it has failed me. Or maybe it is because I have tried so hard to keep it together while my therapist was on vacation, that it just hurt even more when reality hit.

None of this post is to say, "Hey, I'm miserable and lonely." In fact, I am not lonely be any means. Really, I'm okay! What this post is about is recognizing that I may not be able to save every relationship in my life, regardless of the effort I put into it, and that is okay. I am at peace with it because I have so many new friends through my church that have welcomed me into their loving arms with absolutely no judgments. This is what I needed, and I am so blessed by God to have fallen into their embrace.

Just "Let it Go"

Would you believe, up until this week, I had only heard the song "Let it Go" only a couple of times? Yea, I know, disappointing right? Well I watched Frozen once, yes once. My son is just now at that age where watching animated movies over and over would be satisfying, so there really wasn't a necessity to watch it more than that one time.

Yes, it was adorable, and yes, the message was great. However, I failed to see the reason why "Let it Go" was such an amazing song.

I have a friend, who swears by the healing power of this song, and I of course rolled my eyes at the thought. As much as I love music, I get kind of turned off by songs that go viral, because they lose their sense of power. This week, "Let it Go," proved me wrong.

I was asked to perform some live music for my church's (Elevation Church) block party for West Michigan's Metro Cruise. It was kind of a last minute request, but there was some joking about me playing "Let it Go." Just to buy into their humor, and also because I knew the kids would love it, I learned the song.

When practicing a song as much as I had to for this, considering I didn't really know it well to begin with, it isn't a surprise that the lyrics started floating around in my head, and I began to relate them to my own life. I almost started crying singing it, because it resonated so strongly with me. Hear me out:

Don't let them in, don't let them see

Be the good girl you always have to be

Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know

Well, now they know!"

Let it go, let it go

Can't hold it back anymore

Let it go, let it go

Turn away and slam the door!

I don't care

What they're going to say

Let the storm rage on

Yea.

This pretty much sums up how I felt for the 18 years I was silent. I was convinced by so many people that it was better to just bottle up my trauma and toss it into the deep of an endless sea, never to be retrieved again. I had been putting on the face of someone I really wasn't for so long, and now I am free. It feels great.

I really don't care what people say by telling my story, because I know that I am helping hundreds, maybe thousands of people in the process. That is the true gift of my affliction.

I may not like it when people tell me to "let it go," because to me it sounds like, "forget about it;" however, I know now that those words sometimes means letting go of that fire inside of you...let it out...be free.

Down With the Sickness

For the past couple of days, I have been suffering from a pretty righteous sinus infection. Now normally, this wouldn't be a problem, because as a vocal musician, I have trained myself to battle through sickness like a champ. My regimen typically consists of a plethora of tea, meds, and lozenges. Not to mention the ever so important sleep. Before I had my son, I could take a sick day and sleep the gross away. Now, I have to keep up with a toddler while simultaneously blowing my nose and trying not to puke from my endless drainage.

First world problems right?

Maybe....yet, we are human, and regardless of the responsibilities of being someone else's caretaker, we are foremost a caretaker to ourselves. Granted, I will put my son above anyone else, and that is natural as a mother. However, if I run myself down to the bone in doing so, what good would that do?

These two days of me trying to push this sickness away got me thinking about my DBT skills, one of them being PLEASE. This skill focuses on reducing emotional vulnerabilities, and making sure one gets enough rest, especially when sick is one of them. How many of you try and push yourself when you are sick, and end up snapping at your loved ones, or having a break down? I'm sure Borderlines aren't the only ones in that boat. The only difference is we have a bit more of an extreme reaction.

If I don't get enough rest for a few days, I become vulnerable, and I end up soaking up every negative emotion I come across. Instead of crying it out, I usually feel as if there is no way out of my misery. Before I started DBT, I would immediately jump into some type of self-harming behavior. Because my therapist noticed my trends, we have been able to pinpoint when I become mentally weaker so now I call for coaching when I notice this happening.

But here is my dilemma....I am pretty miserable right now because I haven't been able to focus on getting better, but how can I when I have to be a mother and a wife? Too often I let the guilt of how others will feel if I take care of myself get in the way of healing. Honestly, this applies to my general status of continuing therapy. I do often feel like a burden to my family as I have to be in therapy twice a week. However, I can't let their human reactions deter my necessity to get better.

Yes, my husband might be frustrated when I go retreat into the bedroom to go get rest instead of spend time with him. Sure, my little man might be sad that I can't play with him today. These are all temporary though, and I'd much rather be a healthy and happy mother who has reduced her vulnerability than one who pushes herself to the point where she leaves her loved ones with nothing but an empty shell.

Awakenings: A Personal Tribute to Robin Williams

In light of Robin Williams' recent passing, I felt compelled to blog about suicide in attempts to raise awareness through this unfortunate event.What the world depicted of Robin was that of a man who brought happiness through the silver screen, but in reality he was constantly suffering.

We sometimes wonder how those who are very successful, and otherwise depicted happy, can so quickly lose the battle to their internal demons. When I heard the news of his suicide, while devastated, I was not shocked because I knew that he had been suffering for so long. I am by no means saying it was a solution to his turmoil, but I DO know exactly how he may have felt in those last moments.

The only thing I could do was feel a deep empathy for him as I knew how exhausting it might be to fight your mind for so long. To give some perspective, although I was recently diagnosed with BPD, I have been suffering for probably a decade and a half. For a majority of those years I dealt with weekly suicide thoughts, a few drawn out plans, and a couple of impulse attempts that went wrong. I have fought with every ounce of my being against my disease...and you know what? I am SUPER EXHAUSTED! I am only 26.

Robin had about an extra 30 or more years (of battling) on me. That is scary to imagine.

Do we as non-celebrities ever stop to wonder how much more draining the will to fight becomes when we are constantly being watched? I know that even if I am at a small get-together, it is a challenge to be the "social butterfly Dana" that most claim to know me by. Imagine having the world watch you, not just a few friends.

Robin spent decades lifting the spirits of others, but unable to emerge completely out of his own darkness. There is so much of an understanding for his pain in me, that it literally brings me to tears just thinking about how much he must have been hurting in those last moments.

We all struggle to understand the thoughts of those who take their lives. The first thing we say is, "How could they be so selfish?" Yes, they leave us with pain and unanswered questions, and that hurts! Yet, maybe we could stop and analyze those around us who are still alive, but are also suffering from mental disease. Maybe we could start to validate their agony, and remind them of their connection to the universe, rather than be angry with their desire to exit life and stamp it as "selfishness."

I do believe in the passing of a great man, there have been many awakenings in local communities to create awareness for mental health. Let's not let the end of his legacy on earth go to waste, but rather learn from his suffering.

Rape vs. Gumdrops: Choosing Reality Over Ignorance

Recently, I have noticed a familiar trend amongst people like those around me growing up, and it is something that I find hard to stay silent about: People just aren't comfortable discussing anything that doesn't result in fuzzy comforting emotions. Granted, who would prefer to talk about rape, abuse, and mental health issues over how their newest Pinterest project is progressing?

Maybe it is my sense of reality or passion for such topics, but seriously, life does not solely consist of gumdrops and smooth baby butts. 

Look, it isn't as if I enter a conversation with someone I have never met beginning with, "Oh hey, I'm Dana and I have BPD because my childhood was tainted and I never learned how to be emotionally stable. You wanna be friends?' That clearly would be undesirable in any exchange; however, if the person I am talking to asks what my tattoo means, what my locket means, or what I blog about, I am not going to deny them of an answer. Ninety percent of the time, I am extremely vague about my experience unless people ask questions. 

Sometimes, I even say, "Well this tattoo has a pretty deep meaning, but I'm willing to tell you, if you want to listen..."

"Oh Sure! I love powerful meanings behind tattoos."

Five minutes later with a hint of repulsion I hear, "Oh umm well, sounds like that part of your life is over, and its in the past. Now you can focus on being happy."  

Uhhh...what?

Good intentions aside, being a survivor doesn't mean I have completely detached myself from my experience. I still get vivid flashbacks and new memories on a weekly basis. From that very definition, it really isn't over. Am I bathing in my past? No. Does it control every decision I make in my life? No. Has it helped shape who I am? Yes. Does it represent my strength? Absolutely. 

Choosing to discuss my experience openly in no way shape or form means I am still a victim. It simply means I have chosen to utilize the darkness I have seen to spread awareness. I have said before that to spread awareness, I must be blunt, and ugly. It frightens me that people can not handle the honest truth about what goes on in this world, because if they are scared, how can they stand up against it?

If one can not bear to watch the news because the crimes against humanity that are so common sickens them, so be it. However, if these same people are commenting about these crimes on what should be done, without true knowledge of the matter, then they are kidding themselves. 

I once was told off by a self-proclaimed victim advocate, because she was uncomfortable with a news channel revealing the report details on a sexual assault case. I was rather confused, as number one, victim advocates know the ins and outs of these dealings, and number two, if she couldn't handle the "vague" details, she would have been an awful victim advocate.

People have every right to separate themselves from the evil that exists in this world. I don't blame them, there is some heavy stuff happening right now. What I won't stand for is these same people pretending to be experts on such matters, especially when they are talking to me. It is invalidating and hurtful to all the other survivors who actually live with this pain every day.

The desire to get involved is one that is optional to everyone, but don't turn your head in disgust from the survivor if you can't stomach the truth.

Not So "Fatal Attraction"

My last post was one of uncertainty as I discussed my latest surge of emptiness, and my attempt at pulling myself away from the murkiness below. Finding pebbles of positivity can be trying when your spouse is also having a bad day, and that actual day I last posted, he most certainly was. The only thing I could manage, was to use my skills for his benefit, and surprisingly, it helped facilitate a rather calm environment.

This particular day was chock-full of frustration for Greg, and his desire to come home and relax by getting some new footage for our new YouTube channel (dedicated to cooperative gaming as a married couple), came to a screeching halt. We had moved our most powerful PC downstairs to record, but as soon as Greg tried to turn it on, he was met with a blank screen and an annoying error sound coming from the motherboard.

Now, when it comes to these things, my husband no doubt gets angry, but usually, I would get so stressed that I would ask endless questions until he would snap at me. Snapping at a Borderline when she is in an already vulnerable state is a big no-no. In most situations this would lead to me bawling my eyes out, saying how much I hate my life, and typically jumping straight to suicide as a solution for the current dilemma.

When our night was ruined by an unfortunate event, I was as cool as a cucumber. In fact, I had to constantly pull ridiculous positives to soften my husband's mood. I also had to use my "Wisemind" so that I could be rational despite my husband's fury.  After hours of dissecting our PC, and exchanging parts amongst other PC's in the house, we found out our $400 graphics card had fried. My husband was distraught, not only about the potential money we would lose, but also because of the time we had lost by dealing with this predicament. I kept offering positives. The exchange went a little something like this.

Greg: Bah! This SUCKS! I can't believe my graphics card took a crap.
Dana: Well at least we had my PC we could pull another card from so we could continue to record our footage.
Greg: Of course I would have a shitty day, then come home to this. OF COURSE! What a waste of my time!
Dana: Hey, well at least we were working together towards a common goal instead of fighting like we sometimes do. Also, wouldn't you have been more upset if this happened during your vacation in a couple days?

Because I stayed in my "Wisemind" I was able to quickly problem solve. I pulled up the invoice from when we purchased the graphics card two years ago, and guess what? We had a lifetime warranty on it. 

Had I been in the zone I usually am in whilst during a crisis, considering Greg was also in crisis mode, we most likely would have dropped money we don't have on a new card, then where would we be? By staying calm, I could rationalize and solve the problem. I thought nothing of my progress until after Greg posted something on Facebook (edited for grammar and punctuation):

I have the best wife in the world. Not only did she stick with me all night to keep calming me down, but also called EVGA and her dad to help us. Without her, I would be super angry and upset with the world. She's a keeper guys. Keep reading her blog posts. This woman is unbelievable in her triumphs and I am so proud of her. Love you Dana!

Greg was in disbelief at my ability to stay calm, almost to the point of denial. In fact, he kept saying, "Something bad is gonna happen! I KNOW IT!" He was determined that I was going to go full "Fatal Attraction" crazy on him. I did have to remind him that there were going to be moments that were harder for me than this particular scenario, but the fact I was able to actually be rational for once in a major crises, is a huge accomplishment.

With today being our anniversary, I am reminded of how blessed I am to have a husband who has held my hand through my worst break downs. Every nightmare, flashback, tantrum, suicidal moment, disassociation...he was there to ground me to reality. I am just glad that for once in our four years of marriage, I was the one to provide the gift of serenity. 

I love you Gregory, and I thank you for being my partner in life. I think after these past couple of weeks, I can confidently say, "Don't worry, I am not going anywhere." 

Everything's Great...Everything Sucks

My posts tend to end on a note of empowerment, which is typically due to my ability to overcome my crises, or at least tolerate them, before writing. However, as a BPD sufferer, I think it is crucial to give insight on the moments that drag me towards the bottom of the lake. These moments are riddled with that sense of "emptiness" that is all too familiar with Borderlines. Last night, I was overcome by that wave of darkness, that takes every ounce of energy to emerge scarless.

When a Borderline experiences positive and exciting things, it is almost like a drug or sugar high. We are categorically manic in these situations. If anyone has been around me when I am in these phases, I am pretty wild. I am confident, intoxicating, and have a sense of willingness that only Borderlines can relate to. These are the days I power through projects and whistle through chores that would normally induce endless grumbles.

Then all of a sudden, the tide comes in, and pulls us down with no chance to take a breath.

Have you ever seen a toddler post-birthday-party? When he/she consumes 40 lbs of refined sugar, becomes a blissful whirlwind of awesomeness, only to crash hard a few hours later?

Basically, I'm a 26-year-old child.

It makes sense realistically, because people who suffer from BPD, at least most of them, didn't learn the basic regulation skills that one learns through experiencing a normal childhood. Interestingly enough, we are also wise beyond our years. A good chunk of those who struggle alongside me, experienced the same background where we were forced to age so quickly. Wisdom and empathy is developed early on, while everything else is left on the back burner.

Because of this, there is no middle ground. There is no grey; only black and white. There is really no "okay;" everything's great, or everything sucks. The natural ability to rationalize, to see the glass half full,  in a moment of feeling "empty," is not present without exercising numerous skills. 

So last night, I felt this drag, and tried so hard to explain to my husband what I was feeling. The only thing I could do was cry because I wished incredibly hard to not feel as if my life was going nowhere, even when I knew so many opportunities lie ahead. I struggle with the short term, because no matter how great the horizon looks, if I can't see what is around the corner, I fall apart. 

The key is to really focus on the small things in these times of distress. My therapist refers to them as pebbles of positivity. Even if the effects of large and exciting moments aren't present for long, there are pebbles within them that prove their existence. I am currently working on putting this skill to practice, because it is new to me. I am here to tell you, I am struggling.

Even while I am observing today's pebbles, I am on the verge of breaking down for no good reason at all. 

I Have the Right to be Human

So, does anyone remember how I was kind of pissed at my therapist about a week ago? Well, if you didn't catch my little rant, and want to read it, it is rather entertaining. I am not here to tell you I was out of line by spitting fire, but rather enlighten you that it is okay that I was angry. In fact, I called my therapist in between sessions, just to remind her of that fact.

Sure, that may seem harsh, but honestly, it was the best thing I could possibly do and this is why:
For the first time, I was not afraid to stand up for myself, even if it meant possibly hurting the other person's feelings.

I have said in previous posts that I tend to burden myself with shame over situations that aren't even remotely close to my fault, and I end up apologizing regardless. My reasoning behind this stems from my fear of abandonment. I rationalize that if I hurt someone's feelings by being honest in how they hurt me, they are going to run for the hills, never to socialize with me again. So I end up letting people walk over me, or apologize first whenever there is tension.

The problem is that I would always harbor this deep-seeded anger, which ultimately would lead to me pushing people away anyway. This type of behavior is something I can not afford with my therapist.

For days after my session, I had to keep practicing "Radical Acceptance," just to get through. I still had this hint of guilt festering, and even contemplated calling my therapist to apologize. A friend of mine encouraged me to call for coaching because his theory was, "If you can't call for coaching because you are upset, then you need to call for coaching and tell her you're pissed." So I did call her and said, "I am still angry, and I have been since our session." Her response:

"That's okay."

She explained how glad she was that I called to check in on our relationship, even if I was upset. She said it was important that I could be honest about my emotions. Surprisingly she said if I had apologized, she would have been sad, because that is not what she wanted.  After I hung up, I still felt uneasy, but the next morning I awoke with a sense of clarity. My first thought of the day was, "Why do I care what the hell she thinks? What is she going to do? Anger is a human emotion, and I have the right to be human!"

Click. Light turns on, Dana is happy.

When I saw my therapist next, I was no longer angry. In fact, once I was able to accept that "anger" the feedback she had given me that originally sent me in a whirl of chaos, began to make sense. I practiced being more mindful like she had requested, and I realized she ultimately was right, even if she worded it in a way that made me feel like a pile of crud.

What was really cool, was to hear her say she was proud of me. It was refreshing to feel a sense of accomplishment sitting across from her that day. I hope I can continue this trend, because it is remarkably superior to living in misery.

IC Publishing Blog Tour—Navigating the Writing Path: From Start to Finish

Thank you to Tiffany Mason for inviting me to the tour sponsored by IC Publishing. Tiffany Mason is an international coach, speaker and author. Tiffany's upcoming book, The Power of Adversity- A Guide To Finding Your Greatest Gift In Life, is a combination between a personal memoir of her adversity of being sexually molested and a self-help guide that empowers women to overcome their challenges and start designing a meaningful life. You can find more information about Tiffany at tiffanymason.com.

1. Share how you start your writing project(s). For example, where do you find inspiration? Do
you outline? Do you jump right into the writing? Do you do all of your research first?

I am a sexual abuse/rape survivor who utilizes my experience as inspiration for my blog. During April 2014, Sexual Assault Awareness Month, I blogged every day, sharing a little piece of my story each post. I choose to be absolutely raw in my writing in order to show the ugliness of my reality. This has resulted in helping many survivors come forward. I continue to blog weekly about my adventure through Dialectical Behavior Therapy coping with PTSD and Borderline Personality Disorder.

I normally do just jump into writing, because when the mood strikes, that is when it is best. I do not need to outline, because my posts deal with my personal journey. Occasionally, I will pull directly from my journal though.

2. How do you continue your writing project? i.e. How do you find motivation to write on the non-creative days? Do you keep to a schedule? How do you find the time to write?

In order to continue blogging, I remind myself how many people I am helping by giving firsthand insight to being a sexual assault/abuse survivor as well as a Borderline sufferer. On non-creative days, I tend to pull myself away from my blog, and do something else to keep my mind busy. I don't really need to keep a schedule, because my goal is if I write at least one post a week, that is all that matters. If I write more, then that is awesome. I find time to write by utilizing my son's sleep schedule and the down time I have each evening. I simply make it a priority amongst other hobbies.

3. How do you finish your project? i.e. When do you know the project is complete? Do you have a hard time letting go? Do you tend to start a new project before you finish the last one?

The last project I had was writing every day through the month of April. Sharing my story, as detailed as it was, was extremely challenging. Once I was finished, I felt sort of empty, as if I had no where else to go. I didn't start a new "big" project, but I made it a goal to continue giving insight on my journey through DBT as well as write opinion pieces on subjects that directly relate to my experience.

4. Include one challenge or additional tip that our collective communities could help with or benefit from.

My biggest tip to anyone who is having a writer's block is to journal! My rawness comes from my ability to write pen to paper. It is the way my mind processes things as I expel my words through handwriting that makes the difference versus typing. When you do write, never edit as you go, because it might deter from your point. Just write, then edit after.  This tips may be simple, but I see that a lot of fellow writers forget the simple things when they are stuck.

Next I'd like to introduce a good friend of mine, JoAnn Buttaro to continue the blog tour.​ JoAnn is a date rape survivor who has successfully completed counseling/treatment for PTSD and seen her attacker through two trials resulting in convictions for sexual assault and rape and him being sentenced to Life in prison. Since 2009 she has told her story to victim advocacy training groups, college campuses on the East and West coasts and Take Back the Night events. Her goal is to speak out on social media and publicly for those who are unable. JoAnn blogs almost daily telling her story one day at a time from her assault to counseling and two trials.


You can reach out to JoAnn and read her blog and tweets at:
BLOG: JoAnnSpeaksOut.blogspot.com
WEBSITE: www.JoAnnSpeaksOut.com
TWITTER: @JoAnnSpeaksOut