You are not alone | Hope in a Hopeless World

The Highs. The Lows.

Anxiety, Depression, Featured, You are not alone /

Crystal / August 31, 2018

I love the days when my spirit is high, and my motivation level is in it’s prime. These are the days that I feel accomplished, not needing the reassurance or reminders of my worth. On my good days, I feel like a productive member of society. Yesterday was that day. Yesterday, I felt good about life. Today? Today, I woke up with a pit in my stomach, anxiety rising in my chest, and a cycle of inner voices telling me that I am not good enough. The house is still quiet, I walk over to the closet and stare at my clothes. Everything feels so far out of reach. After settling for jeans and a basic shirt, I find myself begging for energy, strength, motivation just to remain standing. Lowering myself to the ground, the tears cannot be stopped. Yesterday was a good day and today just started. What is my deal? No one should have to deal with me. No one should have to put up with my highs only to be disappointed by my extreme lows. The highs. The lows. Sometimes every day is a new battle. Those around me don’t know if they will get the cheerful, motivational, let’s tackle the world woman that they know and love, or the don’t touch me, don’t talk to me, don’t expect much of me woman that I know and dread. The low days sneak around the corner and remind me of my weaknesses. They often appear with no warning and leave me questioning my value. Leaving me tearful, resistant, distracted, and frustrated. The inner voice on the low days tells me to hide. Don’t let them see you. They don’t want to hear your troubles. It tells me that I am a burden to those around me. I have become an expert hider. I would win at the game of hide and seek when it’s emotions that we are hiding. I can bury my emotions so deep that no one will find them. But what is the value in hiding? Where does the motivation to hide our low feelings come from? If I had a cold, I would likely openly share my discomfort. I would feel no embarrassment or shame in telling those around me the reason for feeling out of sorts. The symptoms of a physical condition are easy to share, easy to point out, and easy to explain. The symptoms of mental illness or a low day, are not as easy to explain and can leave behind the feeling of isolation. The feeling that no one could possibly understand. I want you to hear this: You are not alone. You are not a burden. You have a right to feel the low days and share your pain. You do not have to hide. Don’t be embarrassed or afraid to let your true self shine. The highs, the lows, they do not define your worth. You are more then a sum of your emotions. Emotions are a part of being human. They are natural and beautiful. They allow us to express and release the tensions brewing inside. I know firsthand that it is difficult, and I would like to encourage you today to stop hiding and start sharing your real, raw, wonderfully made self with those closest to you. Author: Crystal

Survivor’s Guilt

PTSD, You are not alone /

Job W / August 12, 2018

Why did I make it, and he didn’t? Why would God spare me and not him? Why do his kids and wife have to suffer, when it could have been me instead? If only I had been there, I could have saved him. I deserved to die, he did not. These are the questions and thoughts that have haunted me for 10 years. On March 30, 2008 I was preparing for the next mission but at the last minute, I was pulled off the mission. My commander said that I needed to rest, I had been out on too many missions. The decision was made so against my protests, another solider took my place that day. I headed back to my trailer to sleep. Hours later I woke up and headed over to “The TOC” to find out what I would be doing next. Walking into the building a buddy of mine pulled me outside and gave me the news. The truck I should have been on was hit by a roadside bomb. My truck partner didn’t make it. I did nothing to save him. I was asleep, completely helpless to my unit. If only I would have pushed harder to be on that mission, then I could have saved him. If I were in the truck, he would have lived. All would have been made right. If only I was on that truck. Joining the military, I set out to take part in protecting my country and maintaining a sense of justice and fairness. I knew the risks, I was prepared to accept the consequences of serving my country. What I was not prepared for was the amount of guilt I would feel for surviving. What is fair about losing the life of a solider, who was a husband, father, friend. At this time in my life, I did not have kids, I wasn’t married yet. In my mind, if anyone had to die it should have been me. Less people would be impacted by my death then his. Sure, my fiancé, parents, and family would be sad, but it was less sad than a child losing his father, and a wife her husband. My world view changed after this event. Instead of seeing a fair and just world, I saw an unfair, and terrible place. A place where it’s every man for himself. A place where there couldn’t possibly be a God who cares. 15 months after this moment, I was back home and about to marry the woman of my dreams. I felt undeserving of marriage. What makes me worthy of having a happily married life, when it should have been me that died on the battle field? Ten years later, I am still struggling with what some call Survivor’s Guilt. It is impossible to make sense of tragedy in this world. Impossible to figure out why some people are affected in tragedy and others are not. For many years, I allowed this guilt of surviving war to influence my day to day life. The truth is that the guilt was hiding the real emotion underneath. The overwhelming sadness that I felt after seeing war and the senseless loss of soldiers. Instead of dealing with the sadness, it came out in anger and guilt. The other harsh reality is while my soon-to-be wife, parents, and friends were celebrating my return and the up-coming wedding, I did not share in their joy. Instead of seeing the value that I brought to my family and friends, I took this for granted and continued to believe that I was not a worthy part of the family. I saw myself as a mistake. A mistake that didn’t deserve to be celebrated. It took significant hardships, regretful decisions, treatment, and unconditional love of those around me to see myself as a worthy. As someone that deserves life and happiness. For those that may be struggling with Survivor’s Guilt, related to war or other events, I would encourage you to learn from my mistakes. Don’t wait 10 years to address the guilt and pain. Look at the truth of the situation, look for the true emotions attached to the guilt, and look at all the family and friends that you have around you. Family and friends that would be devastated by losing you. Cherish relationship with them, because you are worthy of them. Surviving does not make you less worthy. Take care of your mental health, it’s just as important as physical health. Find ways to give back to those around you through volunteer work or helping others in your day to day life. I have to believe that I survived for a reason. I have to believe that his death was not for nothing. I owe it to all the soldiers that didn’t make it back, to cherish every moment of life. Valuing life instead of dwelling in the pain. There is no shame in surviving. Feeling guilty will not replace the heartbreak. Learning to cope and address the heartbreak is the only way to truly heal from the pain. To my fellow soldiers, if you are looking for places to reach out, see the resources listed below. Use the strength and courage that I know you have to get connected. Author: Job W. Resources for Vets: Veterans Crisis Line: 1-800-273-8255 (Press 1) https://www.veteranscrisisline.net https://www.mentalhealth.va.gov/ https://hopeinahopelessworld.com/contact/ Resources for Families: https://www.caregiver.va.gov/

Crash in Aisle Two

PTSD, You are not alone /

Crystal / August 3, 2018

Walking into Target, my one year old in the cart, I scan the entry way. Everyone looks suspicious. They cannot all be bad. Can they? I push ahead. Eyes darting around from one person to the next. My grocery list is tucked safely in my back pocket. My hand makes no attempt to reach for it. The chaos around me requires my full attention to navigate. Who just touched my shoulder? Quickly my head turns to the side to catch a glimpse of the culprit. She carries on like nothing happened. My eyes immediately find my child. He is safe. Rounding aisle three of the store, I am too far from the exit. Too far from my escape route. There up ahead. Two men enter aisle three. Why are they looking at us? What could they possibly want? I must protect my child. Quickly, my body turns the cart in the opposite direction. Picking up speed, my cart rounds the corner to aisle two. My mind calculating the quickest way out of the store. SMASH! The sound of two carts colliding stops me in my tracks. The judgement on the woman’s face. She thinks I am a terrible mom, but if she only knew that the men in the aisle over are trying to steal my child, then she would understand. Quickly moving the cart around the woman that I just ran into, my mind continues to plot the fastest way to the parking lot. To the safety of our car. Abandoning the cart near the front of the store, we make our exit. Relief washes over me. No one has followed. My car is in sight. The groceries will have to wait. Looking back on this moment, I cannot help but think about the woman in aisle two. I can imagine that she had her own stressors that day. Simply wanting to grab a few items from the local Target and get home to her family. Imagine her surprise when a woman and child come crashing into her cart while she’s looking at the salad dressings in aisle two. She could have gone home that day and described the scene. “A crazed woman with a baby in the cart, who looked like she hadn’t showered in days, ran right into my cart today! And then just took off.” She had no way of knowing that I was struggling with the symptoms of PTSD and vicarious trauma. No way of knowing that I had convinced myself that the men in aisle three were trying to steal my child. There is always going to be a reason to point out the wrong doings of others. There will always be reasons to hate, hold a grudge. I would like to encourage you today to remember that each person has a story and you might be encountering that person in the lowest part of their story. I would not want to be judged based on my lowest, most hopeless days. For the lady in aisle two, she was forced to react to a situation that she did not ask for. She could have yelled, sought revenge, or allowed this moment to ruin the rest of her day. However, I would like to think that she could have saw the pain in my eyes and choose a different response. What if, instead of condemning me for my actions, she chose to quickly forgive and recognize that there is more to the story then just a reckless irresponsible mother? The actions of others, whether positive or negative, always have a reason behind them. No one acts without reason. Without something driving that choice. For me, “the crash in aisle two,” was caused by the motivation to protect my child. I had no way of convincing myself that the threats were not real. These actions forced another person to make a choice. A choice that she did not ask for. I would encourage everyone to seek kindness and understanding and use that as your reason to act. Show kindness to the most undeserving. You might use that power to change the course of someone’s life. Author: Crystal

Denial. Isolation. Flight.

Depression, Marriage, You are not alone /

Crystal / July 27, 2018

I cannot pinpoint the exact moment that isolation began to creep into our lives, but slowly my husband and I experienced a steady drift toward isolation. It’s amazing looking back. One day we were the happy, power couple that would be together forever, shared every moment of success and failure, and simply did life together. The next day, we were passing ships. Lost in a world of panic attacks, nightmares, paralyzing anxiety, and fear. Passing ships that would eventually reach for permanent separation as a way out. A way to fix the pain. Naturally one would think that two best friends and life partners would connect over experiencing similar symptoms. Our mental illnesses were caused by separate events, but the symptoms were eerily similar, as were our coping styles. Denial. Isolation. Flight. Thoughts around “This is all in my head.” “I should be able to handle this.” “No one would understand.” “It’s not as bad as what other people have” “No one has noticed a change in me.” Whatever the reason for the timing, my husband and I were struck with the impact of mental illness at the same time. Unable to provide comfort or support to the other. How can two people, best friends and life partners, be sharing the same experience but still feel so alone? It was during the lowest time in our marriage, that I knew something needed to change. Symptoms that should have been obvious, had been ignored for too long. The sound of a scream on TV would send me running for cover, even in the safety of my own home. The nightmares that would come at night would soon become the reason I would live on 3 hours of sleep each night. The simple brush of my arm in a crowded space would mean that I was being violated against my will. The ring of my phone meant that there was another person calling me that I couldn’t help. Another person that needed a Social Worker with better skills than I. Hopelessness, social withdrawal, avoided eye contact, chest pain, flashbacks. Survival mode. My body and mind were doing anything it could to hide from the fears in my mind. Which meant hiding from family, friends, co-workers, and even my husband, the one true love in my life. Somehow, I even brushed off a hospital stay as a “fluke.” I was seen in the emergency room for severe abdominal pain, vomiting blood, chest pain, difficulty breathing, and irregular heartbeat and still I refused all follow-up care after the hospital visit because the doctors didn’t find anything physically wrong with me. The power of mental illness does not only affect your mind. Often the physical changes will be the first symptoms noticed. It was several months after my visit to the hospital that I finally sought treatment. After learning about my own symptoms, it became abundantly obvious that my husband was experiencing similar symptoms. Even though we had already begun the separation process, I pushed him to seek help for his symptoms. To my surprise, he followed through on his first appointment and learned that he was living with combat PTSD, OCD, and Major Depression. It was a long road to recovery for the two of us and there were mistakes that were made during this time. A time of survival. A time of seeking for anything to heal the pain, anything to distract from the living nightmare that had us trapped inside. The greatest lesson we have learned along the way, is to let people in. There are people that will understand. There are people that want to help you through and stand with you, but they cannot do that if they are not given the opportunity. Isolation is a dangerous and scary place to live. Take the first step today to reach out to someone. Schedule an appointment, find a support group, confide in a friend. The hope that comes with healing, is more than worth it. The loneliness that you may be feeling now will not last forever. In fact, the struggles that we are handed in life are bound to make us more compassionate, understanding, and strong. Use your low points in life, to prove that your trials and troubles do not define you. Tell your fear and doubts that you are in control. Author: Crystal

My Inner Critic

Love. Joy. Kindness, MH Awareness, You are not alone /

Crystal / July 19, 2018

Walking into our local coffee shop, I anxiously waited for the other members of the group to arrive. It was my first time joining a group like this one. Chipping off my freshly painted nail polish from my fingernails, I watched for anyone that might be associated with the group. A friendly smiling face approached me and introduced herself as the leader of the women’s church group. Feeling like a fraud, I wanted to run out the front doors, but my feet felt like heavy weights that were keeping me frozen in place. A few others joined us at the large table and the natural progression of small talk began. Simple questions like “Are you married? Do you have any kids?” Questions that should be easy for anyone to answer. Ones that don’t require a lot of thought. When the eyes of the group turned to me, I instantly broke down in tears. Watching the confused looks on the faces around me, I felt the need to explain. But where would I even begin? The truth was that I had just learned hours before that I had been diagnosed with depression, anxiety, and vicarious trauma from my work as a social worker. Vicarious trauma, otherwise known as Compassion Fatigue, occurs from exposure to hearing trauma stories from others and being a direct witness to the emotional residue that is associated with that trauma. At the same time, my husband and I were going through separation after 8 years of marriage (Spoiler Alert: I am overjoyed to say that we did not follow through on divorce and just celebrated 9 years of marriage.) The jumbled mess of an explanation that came out next was through many tears and sobbing. I think it went something like, “My name is Crystal. I don’t know if I am married anymore. My husband has untreated combat PTSD and he has moved out. I apparently have vicarious trauma, depression, and anxiety. But we have one child, he’s 3.” Being someone that normally keeps all her feelings and emotions inside, I wanted to bolt for the exit. What could these well put together ladies possibly be thinking of me now? I quickly learned that my inner critic was much harsher then the opinions of those at the table. Instead of the judgement and shame I was expecting, I was met with love and compassion. For the next hour the group shared stories of relationship struggle and encounters with mental illness. The connection with others that had experienced similar stories brought a calm to my world. I wasn’t alone. One of these amazing women, was Elizabeth. Through conversation with her I learned that she lives with Bipolar Disorder and that we shared a similar passion of mental health awareness. In the coming months we would bond over importance of mental health. Our discussions eventually led us to pursue co-leading a peer-led mental health support group, which we successfully launched and run each month. The women from the church group were some of our first fans cheering us on when our hours of discussion and research paid off. Through Elizabeth’s unconditional love, support, and advice she has helped me in this road to recovery. It is with immense joy and honor that I announce that Elizabeth has accepted my invitation to contribute to this blog site. Please help me welcome Elizabeth as an author on the Hope in a Hopeless World site. Check out the “About Elizabeth” tab and watch for up-coming posts from her.