If you're not happy, change your life.

I've struggled with depression for as long as I can remember.  Attending a small school in a small town didn't help as I was a bit of a pariah...  I'm sure there were loads of things I could have done to make my life easier, but I never bothered thinking about it.  See, my biggest preoccupation in those days was getting through the day.  The entire population of my high school was around 250, and I had--on a good day--probably 3 friends.  I was so monstrously unpopular that when kids brushed by me in the hallway, they would recoil as if I was infected with some sort of loser-flu.  If contact was made they would theatrically jump away in horror and repulsion.

Imagine for a moment: you're young, you're insecure with yourself, and at a really pivotal point of self-development and the only reaction you illicit from your peers is disgust.  It's the kind of thing that sticks with you, ya know?  It's the kind of thing that, even after a decade, makes it hard to look in the mirror.

I don't think I have to say too much more for you to get the point that, upon graduating, I was kind of an emotionally insecure wreck.  I had no self-esteem to speak of, and felt as though that would never change, so shortly after graduating high school and moving out of state to attend college, I tried to kill myself.

I was hospitalized in a state funded in-patient facility for ten days.  As dark as things were at that point, I maintain that those were ten of the best days of my life.

Recovery wasn't instant, but my experience being hospitalized taught me one incredibly pivotal thing:  if you aren't happy with your life, it is yours to change.  From then on, I took a very active role in my mental health and emotional well-being.  I took complete responsibility for my happiness and was able to keep that momentum going for a long time....

Until just short of six months ago, actually, when life threw me a series of curveballs that have left me reeling.

August 19th, 2014, one of the best friends I've ever had passed away.  He was an Airborne Army MP with a future brighter than the sun.  He was also one of the greatest humans I've ever known.  He visited me in the mental hospital shortly after I tried to kill myself and he gave me a piece of advice that changed the way I thought about the world.  He said, "You're going to die.  That's the one and only thing that you are guaranteed in life.  It's the one certain.  Yeah, you could kill yourself...  You could take that one thing that you know is coming right now.  Or you could go fucking live.  You can go out and do all of those things that AREN'T guaranteed.  Fall in love, get married, start a family, go to college, run a marathon, write a book....  Whatever.  Death is always going to be there, so go chase the things that aren't promised."  We fell out of touch when he joined the military, but I always remembered those words--that talk.  I always assumed that we would find each other again---that our friendship would be rekindled and we'd pick up where we left off.  I shouldn't have taken that for granted....  He was 26 years old.

Four days later, on August 23rd, 2014, I received a call from my aunt and uncle asking me to check on my grandmother--who they'd left by herself while they went on a day-trip.  When I arrived at their home, I discovered that she had passed away.  It didn't seem real at first.  I thought that if I pulled on her hands or shook her arms enough that she might wake up, but she didn't.  I was alone in the dark with her body for what felt like several minutes before I was about to think straight again...  When clarity set in, I dashed to my parent's home and called for help. She was 81 years old.

As traumatic as it was to find a body, it wasn't the end of the saga. In late September, my husband and I received a call from his step-father.  We were told that his mother was in a medically induced coma and on life-support.  We were able to make the trip to Michigan to visit, but when we got there, the prognosis was grim.  So, on October 5th, 2014, my husband, his step-father and I, all gathered in her hospital room and held her hand while they took her breathing tube out.  We watched her struggle to free herself from her mortal bonds for over an hour before taking her last breath.  She was 54 years old.

In the wake of these tragedies, I find myself once again in the recesses of depression and grief and trauma, only this time the answers seem to illude me.  I'm not sure of how to take responsibility of my happiness in this case.....  I don't know what changes to make in order to find happiness once again.

I guess, in a round-about way, this leads me to the point of this whole blog: Finding happiness, finding self-acceptance, learning how to become a whole person again, healing from trauma, learning to laugh, learning to open myself up, learning to take life less seriously because, when you've looked death in the face, you realize how little anything truly matters.

I apologize for the heaviness of this post, but know that things will get lighter because that's the whole purpose of what I'm doing here.  This blog is about my journey back to myself and, hopefully, how to help yourself stand up straight again.