Saturday, May 20, 2017

Yes, I have a Mental Illness. Yes, I am competent.

I've been asked a couple times recently what I want people to know about me as someone living with mental illnesses. My answer almost every time I'm asked this question is the same.

I want people to know that I am competent.

Yes, I struggle with mental illnesses. Every day of my life I choose every action carefully in order to best accommodate my illnesses. I wake up every morning not knowing how hard that day's fight is going to be, but still I wake up.

I like using the verb "fight" when I speak about my struggle with mental illness because is shows that it is work. It shows that it is not easy. But fights can be won. It might not be easy, but it is possible.

So I wake up every morning to fight and I go about my life. My mental illnesses don't control my whole life. I am still able to get my everyday activities and chores done.

I just finished my first year of college. During that time I lived alone in the dorms. I was responsible for getting myself to my own doctor appointments. I was responsible for taking my medications. I was responsible for my own meals and self care. I was responsible for making sure I kept up on my coping skills so I wouldn't down spiral. I was responsible for making sure I went to my classes and did my homework.

I was a peer educator and set up events to speak to students about depression and suicide. I completed a national peer educator certification. I was involved in Anchor Club, a club that provides support for and advocates for students on campus with disabilities. Next year I'm going to be the president of that club.

I don't tell you all this to be like "oh look what I can do." I'm telling you all this to show that I am still able to take care of myself. I tell you this to show you that my mental illnesses don't stop me from doing anything I put my mind to.

It doesn't happen often, but there have been times where I've felt that people don't take me seriously when they find out about my illnesses. At times I avoid telling people who are higher up than me for fear that they will no longer see me as competent.

I don't want to do that. That's a main reason I speak out as much as I do, because I want to do anything I can to break the stigma attached to mental illness.

So that's my message today: Yes, I have mental illnesses and yes, I am just as competent as anyone's else.

Wednesday, May 17, 2017

Accepting My Cane as a College Student

A few months ago the pain in my hips started to get more intense. There were days I could barely walk without help. My hip was moving out of place a lot causing me to fall often. I knew I needed something to help.

I spoke to one of my doctors inquiring about a cane. I wasn't sure if it would help or hinder. He agreed it would be a good idea so I got one. Then came the new challenge of getting comfortable using it.

At first I would only use it around the house and when I had bad days I just wouldn't go out places I had to walk. I was embarrassed and scared about the reactions I would get as a seemingly healthy 19 year old using a cane. Then it came time for me to go out of town with the Forensics team I help coach on. We were going to the Bay Area for 3 days which meant both a lot of walking and a lot of time in the car: two things that aggravate my pain. I decided that, for the first time, I would bring my cane out in public with me.

I had a lot of fun on that trip. I loved getting to go with my team and spend time with friends; however, from a health standpoint that trip was miserable. I didn't have any pain medication at the time that was working for me. I also did not use my cane in situations where I should have. I was scared of other peoples reaction for me using it part of the time and walking normal part of the time. Because I couldn't get over myself it stayed folded up in my bag most of the trip.

It wasn't until the very last day when I broke it out. At that point I literally could not walk any farther. I was fighting to keep the tears away so my team wouldn't know how much pain I was really in. I sat outside on a bench when they went into the museum and I sat in the car when they went to the thrift store because I could not go any further.

Because I had not been able to get over my pride the first two days and actually use my cane when I needed it, by the third day I couldn't hardly walk any farther even with it.

When I was sitting outside the museum I texted a friend of mine. She made me understand that the same way I am comfortable advocating for my mental health needs I need to do the same with my physical health. It's no different. She was right. I can't let fear of what other people think keep me from doing things that could help myself.

After that trip I started to use my cane more. I didn't use it everyday, but on the days I needed it I took it with me. At my doctors request I ended up using crutches for a few months around my college campus because of all the walking I had to do. I've recently taken myself off of those as I'm training Jenny for mobility work. On the bad days though I'll still use my cane.

I'm no longer afraid of reactions I'll get around school or in public. Really the only place I don't take my cane is church. I still have not fully gotten over that uneasiness; however. that is just my own fears and doubts getting in the way.

Starting to use a cane when I'm only 19 was rough for me, but I realized that I can't worry about what other people think, I can't worry about where I thought I would be at this point in my life, and I can't worry about what this might mean for me long term. No one knows what the future holds.

For right now I'm going to use my cane if I need it and I'm going to remember that just like advocating for my mental health is important, so is my physical health.

Thursday, May 11, 2017

Finding a Balance with my Weight

A topic that has been swarming around my mind lately is how to find a balance with my body - particularly with my weight.

As I have written about before I struggle with Anorexia. I'm doing better with it than I have in the past, but I believe that once you struggle with an eating disorder you will, to some extent, have that voice inside of you.

I have actually had some success with that lately though in that last week I reached my long worked for goal weight. I think I'm the only college student on my campus this year who was actually grateful to gain the Freshman 15.

In an ideal world I could focus on recovering from Anorexia without worrying about my weight. I would focus on eating and loving my body no matter how it was. Actually I suppose in an ideal world I would not have developed Anorexia. Regardless, in the world I live in I did develop Anorexia. I was also given the challenge of chronic illness.

This is the reason I have no focus and keep track of my weight. My particular type of Ehlers Danlos Syndrome affects my joints a lot. I have lost count of the number of doctors and treatment professionals who have warned me against gaining weight.

Just yesterday I was at my PCP's office for something unrelated, or at least not directly related, to my EDS and the PA I was seeing noticed I have gained a little bit of weight since I had been in last. She felt it appropriate to point out that I had gained weight and warn me to not keep gaining weight or it would make my joints worse.

Keep in mind, yes I've gained weight. Yes, I'm at my goal weight, but I'm still skinny. I don't agree with giving out numbers online especially when talking about eating disorders; however, I am at a healthy weight for my short height and I am still skinny.

It's difficult though to have these two illnesses whose treatment seem to contradict each other. For my eating disorder I should not be focusing on weight and size. For my EDS everyone is telling me not to gain weight. How do I strike a balance? For now I'll stay where I am. It seems to be the happiest medium I could find.

And I'll continue to fight the battles I've been given. I can't possibly be the only person with a chronic illness who also had an eating disorder. I am determined to get better and I'll do that however I can.

To anyone else out there struggling: keep fighting the fight. Keep moving forward. It's always worth it.

Monday, May 8, 2017

When An Illness Warrior Gets the Flu

Well it happened. I got the stomach flu,  the worst one I've had in a long time. With my other health problems something like getting the flu can completely throw me out of wack.

I'm really grateful that the first time I got sick last night I was at home because it made me stay home and my parents have been taking care of me all night. Plus who wants to be throwing up in a dorm bathroom?

Getting the flu like this can knock me out of the game differently than it would someone who donesnt have mental or chronic illnesses.

The first way the flu messes with me is not allowing me to take my pills. I first got sick a little after 7pm yesterday and have been sick seven times in eight hours since. I haven't even attempted to take any medications. That means my sleeping pills haven't been taken and so I haven't had a full sleep cycle yet. I also haven't been able to take any pain pills.

That's another way that my body is affected differently because of the flu. My pain levels shoot into overdrive. Looking over the last few days I think my body knew I was going to be sick because Saturday was an unusually bad pain day. Turns out Sunday I got sick.

I don't know why, but when I get the flu or a cold it makes my EDS flare up,. Thanksfully, thankfully, thankfully the good heating pad is at my house. I've been laying on it for hours and it has been my saving grace.

Hopefully by tomorrow I'll be able to keep some meds in my system. On nights I don't sleep the following days are really tough on my mental illnesses and I'm going to need some of my daytime meds to help with that.

For now I will continue praying for relief. I know that if it be His will then Heavenly Father can heal me.

Friday, May 5, 2017

My Dorm and How Psychosis Changed My Safe Places

I have been so very blessed to have lived in the dorms this year. I'm two weeks from wrapping up my first year at college. I never would have thought I'd be in this position. For so long I didn't see college let alone the dorms as realistic to me because of my mental illnesses.

I'm so grateful though that I chose to move into the dorms. It was literally the best decision I could have made for myself this past year. I grew so much and really became more reliant on myself. I learned how to take care of myself when no one was around to make sure I ate or took my pills.

Most important of all, my dorm became my safe haven. Over the years between the problems I have with certain neighbors and my mental health challenges my home no longer felt safe to me. A big part of this stems from when I was psychotic.

When I'm in my living room I remember the time I had a hallucination in front of my best friend. I screamed and started panicking. She got scared and ran to get my mom. That's how she found out I had been diagnosed Schizoaffective.

In my bedroom I remember the delusion I had of two men following me and sleeping outside my window on the roof. I remember pacing the floor in circles because of the voices.

In my bathroom I remember "waking up" from a hallucination realizing I had given in to the voices and cut my arm.

In my parents room I remember the nights I slept on their floor because I was too scared and too paranoid to sleep alone.

The memories of my house aren't all bad and I can be there when I need to be, but moving into the dorms allowed me to start freah. I had this new place that was all mine. I could make it how I wanted and start over. My dorm is my safe haven. Its one place I have always felt safe. I can't say that about many places.

But school is almost over. In a matter of days I will be leaving my dorm probably forever. I'm moving back into my house where my room is now in boxes and my walls are repainted white. I love my parents and this has nothing to do with them. It has to do with places I feel safe.

If I'm being honest I looked for other options besides moving home for the summer. But I only have three months before I move back on campus and I have no job with means no rent money. So I'll move back home and I'll do what I always do. Keep moving forward.

We're all places in difficult situations in our lives that sometimes we can't get out of. What will determine the success of that situation is how we approach it. I'm trying to approach this summer with a positive attitude.

I'm making plans to keep myself safe, healthy, and moving forward in life. And for the time being I will enjoy the little time I have left in my dorm. It's not over yet.

Thursday, May 4, 2017

When Insecurities Collide with Friendships

I find it ironic how I can stand up in front of 5000 people and give a speech or talk about my mental illness in front of a group of peers no problem, but once I'm one-on-one in an interpersonal relationship I am the most insecure person. 

Speaking in front of groups comes easy to me. It's something I love and it's something I'm good at. It gives me confidence. When I'm in the normal world though and not on a stage I have a hard time with relationships. 

A lot of my problems stem from trauma issues. I have trust issues and abandonment issues that I am currently working on. I also have some social anxiety. I have since I was younger. 

One of my core beliefs is that I annoy people. I'm always always worried that I'm talking too much or texting too much or anything too much. I'm constantly concerned that people don't really like me. 

I have a tendency to ask the other person every so often, if we're good  It's probably not healthy, but I sometimes need that reassurance. That they care about me like I care about them and all the problems I see are cognitive distortions I've magnified in my head. 

This is definitely something I hope to be able to overcome and I do believe that as I continue my healing journey that I will be able to get better at this. I've already come a distance from when I first started.   I believe as I begin to grow more confidence in myself as a person and a friend and as I learn to trust others and myself more I will be able to form friendships and relationships that I don't have to question. 

Until then, if you're one of the people I'm lucky enough to have in my life, give me patience. Allow me that reassurance. I'm trying and always moving forward. 

Wednesday, May 3, 2017

Last Night I Dreamt of my Pain

Sleep and I have a complicated relationship. Besides struggling with Insomnia, most nights my dreams are filled with PTSD nightmares. It took me a long time to accept this and actually want to sleep. Although I still go through periods where I won't want to sleep because I know it means I have to dream, I know that my mind and body need the rest. Even though I couldn't escape my mental illnesses in my dreams the one thing I could do was escape my chronic illness. That is, until last night. 

Last night I dreamt of my pain. 

I think the hardest part is that except for a few small details it was pretty realistic. Everything I dreamt had actually happened before. 

In my dream I had a normal high pain day that could have easily been real. Sleep is no longer the one place I can escape my pain. 

Sure, it's where my trauma comes out to get me, but for those few hours of sleep I don't feel any hurt. 
That has been very important to me lately as I've been getting used to the idea of being chronically ill. 

Dreaming of my pain felt like my last escape was gone. 

When I'm able to take a step back and look at this cognitively it's not as bad. I'm trying to celebrate the fact that for one night I didn't have to relive my assault. I'm reminding myself that it was just a dream and it didn't mean anything. I'm acknowledging that having that dream didn't change my health in the slightest. 

It's easier when I can take a step back and view it like this. Sometimes I can't do that though. Sometimes I dream of pain, wake up and cry because now I have to get up and do it all again. 

But this is my life. It's the life I have. It's the only body I'm going to get. So it's the one I need to celebrate. 

Monday, May 1, 2017

Jenny as a Mobility Assistance Dog

Depending on how long you have been following my blog you might be aware that I have a wonderful yellow lab, Jenny, who has been my Psychiatric Medical Alert Service Dog for two and a half years. She does her job beautifully and has improved my quality of life and independence greatly.

One new addition to her work is that I have recently started training her to also be a mobility assistance dog. I have Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and because of that my joints are very loose and tend to move out of place and sublux a lot. The joints I'm currently having the greatest problems with are my hips. 

My left hip has a labrum tear and it is very loose. The ball does not stay in the socket like it is supposed to. It will come out of place partially which causes pain and about half the time I will fall. I'm in college and have to walk a lot so I started using a cane a few months ago and at the suggestion of one of my doctors I started using forearm crutches to get around in January. 

The crutches worked well for me. It was able to take some of the weight off my left hip which kept it from coming out of place. There were a few problems with it though and that's why I decided to start training Jenny to do mobility work. 

First is that I have been told that my problems not going away. For a problem without a solution I didn't want to become reliant on crutches for the rest of my life. Also, favoring my left leg with the cane and crutches it caused my right hip to start hurting more than usual and I didn't want to risk doing damage to it. So I started looking for other options and talked to the owner of the organization I got Jenny from about training her in mobility work. 

She cleared Jenny to do mobility work and told me the steps to take to start training her. Now, Jenny is not able to do the same job that the crutches do. They took the pressure off my hip to keep it from moving around. She can't do that because while bracing is one task I'm working on with her, dogs cannot brace when they are in motion. 

The task I'm focusing on with her right now is Bracing. This is when she stiffens her body and using a harness that she wears I am able to transfer some of my weight onto her. This helps me be able to stand from a sitting position on the days I need help with that. It helps me to be able to not fall when my hip pops or my knee gives out. I'm also planning on incorporating it to working on stairs once she has it down pat. Stairs are one of the bigger areas my hip pops and I have fallen down them quite a few times. 

She doesn't have a ton of mobility tasks, but what she does do helps me greatly. If I didn't already have a service dog I wouldn't have gotten one specifically to do mobility work, but with already having her I saw it as a good opportunity for her to help me even more. 

Sunday, April 30, 2017

For the Person who Listens to my Fears

Dear you,

You are the person I go to when I feel like I have no one else to talk to. Sometimes there are problems or questions only you can solve. You are the person I go to when I need that calm reassurance that everything will be okay. 

You are the person I tell when I'm proud of myself for something. You are the person I go to when I am crying, even if I'm trying to hide it. 

You listen. You understand that I don't need you to fix me. I just need you to be there, to listen. 

You challenge my thoughts while still validating them. You give me advice while asking my opinion too. 

Thank you for our late night talks. Thank you for your guidance and wisdom in a time where I felt completely lost and confused. Thank you for helping me see the light at the end of the tunnel. 

As you know by now I sometimes have difficulty in relationships. I don't trust easy and am constantly questioning our relationship. Mainly my part in it. I'm always worried that I'm being a bother. So sometimes I'll ask....and then worry that that is a bother. Thank you for continuing to silence my fears and my guilt. 

Thank you for not giving up on me. I know I can be a lot to handle. I hope one day to be able to convey to you just how much all you've done means to me. 

For now, dear you, thank you. 


Saturday, April 29, 2017

Finding a Good Therapist

Finding a good therapist can sometime be an uphill battle. When I first began therapy at fifteen I didn't know what it was supposed to be like. I didn't understand the connection and trust that was supposed to be present. 

My first therapist was Dr. C. He was a good guy. I saw him for two years and he kept me alive for those two years. I especially appreciated that he was willing to continuously learn about my new diagnosis of Schizoaffective Disorder. 

I feel bad for everything I put Dr. C through. For the first little while, I don't even know how long, maybe a couple months I barely talked. I was severely depressed and time didn't mean much to me. I also didn't have the words like I do now to be able to talk about how I was feeling and what was wrong. A lot of our first visits we sat for quite some time in silence. 

Most of the problem with Dr. C. is that I didn't trust him completely. I did trust him enough to work with him for two years. He was also the first person I officially told I was raped; however, I still didn't trust him enough to completely surrender everything. I honestly believe though that at the point in my life where I saw him I didn't have the capability to do that. 

The next therapists that I worked a lot with were B and T when I was in Canon House. For those of you who don't know, Canon was the residential treatment facility I stayed at for 10 weeks when I was 17-18. B was my individual therapist and T was my family therapist. I loved them both. T was the first therapist I completely trusted, although I worked really well with both of them. They were kind and caring, but also knew exactly what I was capable of and didn't let me get away with anything less. They pushed me to be my best self and for that I will always be grateful. 

Working with B and T at Canon taught me what a therapeutic relationship with someone I trusted could really be like. When I went home I sought out a new therapist. This time I wasn't settling. I was going to find the right person. 

I saw a therapist for a month after I came home and honestly I don't even remember her name. We didn't work well together. She coddled me too much and I needed someone who was willing to push me. 

It is vitally important when searching for a therapist to find someone you work well with. You won't click with everybody. If you don't mesh well with the first therapist you see, go see a different one. Trust me you won't be offending anyone and it will work out so much better for you in the long run. 

After deciding that therapist wouldn't work for me I starting seeing the therapist I've been working with now. J is awesome. We've worked together for 15 months and gotten so much great work done. She pushes me to be my best self and helps me see me as I actually am not as my disordered thoughts tell me I am. 

I feel very grateful to have found a therapist that I can work so well with. In some ways I wish I had found her earlier, but I don't regret staying with Dr. C. He was what I needed at the time and got me to where I was. 

There is such a stigma around going to therapy, but it honestly doesn't need to be there. Therapist are there to help you succeed. It is nothing like the stereotypical therapy model that you see in comics and on TV. If you need help, if you need someone to talk to then seek out a therapist. I don't know what I would do without the ones I've had. 

Unbroken by Mental Illness

I've been in therapy since I was 15. I was hospitalized five times as an adolescent and spent ten weeks in a residential treatment facility. 

I'm still not "fixed". 

I sometimes feel that because I'm not as unstable as I used to be that people expect me to have become all better. I felt like this a lot after I came home from Canon. 

I don't know if people really expected me to be better or if it was just another unrealistic expectation I placed on myself, but I've come to realize that I will never be "fixed", and more importantly, that I don't need to be. 

I am unbroken. I don't have to be repaired. 

Mental illness is a clinical illness. Just like having Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome does not make me damaged or less than, neither does struggling with mental illness. 

Needing to go to therapy every week does not make me weak. I am receiving treatment for my illness. Would you deny a man with kidney failure dialysis? Of course not. 

In my early years of diagnosis I mainly saw what my illnesses would take away from my life. The things that were no longer possible for me. I saw how my life would never be normal and the hardships that would follow me. 

I didn't have the eyes to see at that time the changes that were happening in me for the better. I didn't see the strength and the insight I was developing. I didn't see the voice that was blooming waiting to be set free. 

Now I do and I realize that even though I am not "fixed", I don't need to be. This is who I am and this is who I will stay. 

Saturday, April 22, 2017

How One Fight Sent My Day into a Tailspin

As someone with mental illness my emotions can sometimes be rocky. This can especially be true when it comes to some of my core beliefs or what I call "damaged thoughts" that stem from my assault.
I was reminded of this earlier this morning when my entire day was sent into a tail spin over a stupid fight with my dad. I feel emotions very deeply and I'm sure it was made worse by the fact that I didn't sleep much last night.
I try to not fight with my parents as much as I can because I am very sensitive about feeling like people are mad at me or I've upset someone. But this morning my dad and I argued. It was over the phone and the first problem was that I was in the middle of Target.
I'm more of a wet anger person than a dry anger person. What I mean by that is that when I get angry my emotions tend to spill over and I will start crying. So when I hung up the phone I burst into tears and tried to make my way out of the store without making a scene. I then sat in my car for an hour and a half because I could not stop crying to calm down well enough to drive myself back to campus.
I stayed around my dorm and the community center for the rest of the day. I have been s emotionally raw that if I think about wrong thing I'll burst out crying.
I get that this probably seems like an over reaction, but this isn't all about the fight. It was about everything that happened this week. The fight was just the spark that set the hay on fire.
I'm not writing this for sympathy. I'm not writing this for pity. No. I'm writing this because it's my way of process today. I'm sharing this because this blog is about honesty. The whole point of my writing is to show the good and the bad of mental illness and how it affects my life.
It's not always glamorous. My eyes are puffy. My cheeks are streaked and I'm wearing pjs. I don't look beautiful tonight, but that's okay. I'm trying to be patient with myself for the times I don't have it all put together. Considering what I have going on in my life I am doing pretty well. I'm choosing to celebrate my little successes each day while still being true to the reality of what I'm going through. I'm taking it a day at a time. That's all I can do.

The Balancing Act of Chronic Illness

It is 2:30am on a Friday night. My body has been screaming at me for hours. My pain level canceled out my sleeping meds. Yet still it is just now that I have gotten up to take a pain pill. 

I have been taking psychiatric medications since I was fifteen. Medications do not bother me. I know they are sometimes necessary. 

I am not worried about what other people will have to say. I have gotten unsolicited advice many times before. It does not phase me. I don't care what other people who are not inside my skin have to say. 

So why won't I take the pain meds that are in my cabinet?

I honestly don't know the answer to that question. I think part of it is because they aren't prescribed for the reason I'm taking them. They are left overs from my surgery and my car accident. When I saw a pain management doctor I was told I was not in enough pain for him to manage me. 

If I was not in enough pain shouldn't I be able to handle it? Shouldn't I be able to do like he says and exercise more and it will all be okay? 
The logical part of me says no. I know my body. I know he didn't understand how bad my pain was. I know the exercise I'm capable of and what I'm doing. 

Maybe it's a denial thing. I'm worried that once I start taking pain meds I'll never be able to stop. Not in an addiction sort of way. I'm not worried about becoming addicted. I am very careful and the medication I have is non-habit forming. More in a "this is my life now" sort of way. 

I guess I'm still learning. I'm still learning how to manage my pain. I'm still learning how to listen to my body and answer its needs. Chronic illness is a whole new rollercoaster I have never ridden before. I'm still learning what are the acceptable changes that I can make without doing something that will take away my independence in the long run. I've had two experiences with this lately. 

I stopped using the crutches I had been using for the past few months in hopes that walking more would help build the muscles in my legs. I'm training my Psychiatric service dog to do some mobility tasks for me and she's doing awesome, but she can't take the pressure off my worse hip the way the crutches did. Due to this my hip joint has slipped out of place a couple times this week. I knew this would happen. I was prepared for this to happen, but it's caused my pain levels to be higher than normal. 

This is the first week this semester that I have walked around campus without the crutches and I'm hoping that with time it will get better. 

The second experience happened last week over Spring Break. I've been having a lot of muscle weakness in my legs lately especially in the mornings. I have to take a shower in the mornings and sometimes my legs just don't want to hold me up. This leads to me missing a shower sometimes (thank you dry shampoo and wipe baths). 

When I was home for break a couple days I sat down in the tub for my shower. This helped when my legs were weak and it helped with the fatigue that comes after taking a shower. 

I mentioned to my mom that I wanted to take a stool back to school to sit on in the shower some days. Trust me, no one wants to sit on a dorm shower floor. She really urged me not to, worried that if I start sitting to do the things I usually stand to do that I would lose the ability to do them standing. 

I understand her concern. I know it's a lot easier to lose muscle than it is to gain muscle. I'm doing physical therapy exercises everyday trying to gain muscle and it doesn't come easy. I'm still trying to find a balance though between what I should and should not do. 

It's the same with the medication. I'm trying to find a balance that will work with my life. I know I will find it. I know it's possible for me to have a good, happy, and productive life. All things in time. 

Wednesday, April 19, 2017

Johanna Basford's Inky World Calms My Own

I plan to do a whole post on coping skills because...come on, they're coping skills. I could talk for days about coping skills. However! That is not the point of today's writing adventures. No, no, today the focus is on one favorite coping skill I have: coloring.

(Side note: For those of you who know me well or know my writing well might notice that my tone is a little off at the moment. I'm very excitable right now. Probably because I forgot to take my 5pm anxiety med until 6:30. Sorry mom. Anyways, back to coloring.)

Now I am not talking about a little kid getting out their princess coloring book and jumbo crayons, no. I am talking about the art craze that hit the world in the past couple years. You guessed it: adult coloring books.

I am a fan. I am a fan of one artist in particular. Her name is Johanna Basford and she lives in Scotland. She is a cute little mom of a toddler and an infant and in the past four years she has released five adult coloring books and it working on a sixth.

Johanna's art is unique because all of her work is done by hand. Everything in the book is done by hand and let me tell you it is amazing. I can't use any other printed coloring book now after using hers for so long. You can go to to check out her books. They even have an art gallery on the website where you can send in your own art.

I go to my coloring all the time to use as a coping skill. I, at times, have really bad anxiety or restlessness, but sitting down to color can always calm me down. I use different books depending on the mood I'm in. If I need to focus hard and lose myself in the details I will use the Lost Ocean book because it is very intricate. If I want to just relax and fade away I will use Secret Garden or Magical Jungle, which happen to be my two favorites.

Coloring allows me to relax, breathe, and launch myself into an inky world of flowers and animals in any color you can imagine. I love being able to use my emotions to create something beautiful. It brings some calm into my otherwise chaotic world.

Coping skills are so important. I cannot say that enough. Coloring works well for me and I will always suggest you try it. Pull up a seat, grab your colors, and lets dive into an inky adventure.

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

I Met With A Sexual Assault Prosecutor

I had the enlightening opportunity yesterday afternoon to meet with a Deputy District Attorney. I have known Tamara since I was in Elementary School and she was the mother of a friend of mine. After I released my post Why I Never Reported My Rapist to the Police she reached out to me and invited me down to her office to learn more about the process of reporting and convicting domestic violence and sexual assault cases.

I found our meeting yesterday to be very informative. I have to be honest, I was a little anxious leading up to it, but when I first saw her and we opened with a hug all of my fears went out the window. It was like meeting up with an old friend.

I enjoyed learning about the process and specifically the many steps and programs in place here in Bakersfield for the victims. All of my knowledge came from my initial experience reporting and statistics I had researched.

She was able to explain to me more in depth how the process worked and why at first glace some of those statistics can be misleading.

Tamara works in the DA's office and specifically handles domestic abuse and sexual assault cases. She told me how the team she works with was brought together and transformed about seven years ago when her new boss came in who has a passion for prosecuting these crimes and helping keep victims safe and comfortable.

One of the first things Tamara taught me about was the Victim's Services Unit. This unit is full of advocates whose sole responsibility is to the victims. A victim is always allowed an advocate. They can be there from the initial report all the way through to sitting with them on the witness stand in court. The Victim's Services Unit is separate from the DA's office and if it is the victims wish they even uphold their rights when it comes to engaging with the prosecutor. To top it all off, they have a dog! Legend is a sweet dog who is able to sit with victims on the stand and help them feel safe when they have to testify. Tamara has worked with Legend on multiple occasions and she reports he is especially helpful with children she has worked with.

We also talked about some statistics that I found from RAINN about how few rapists are ever convicted. The report stated out of every 1000 rapes, 310 are reported, 57 arrests will be made, 11 cases will go to prosecutors, and 6 will lead to incarceration.

I was understandably concerned when reading these statistics, how can so few rapists go to jail? Tamara was able to answer some of my concerns about this. Part of the reason is another thing their office does to help victims of sexual assault have the power and feel safe. A lot of victims don't want to go to court for a variety of reasons. One way they always have the control is that the choice is up to them. Tamara told me they will never prosecute a sexual assault case without the victim consent.

I learned that all the detectives in Bakersfield always want the case to get prosecuted and work tirelessly to make that happen, all the prosecutors she works with want the rapists punished, but they will not force the victims into a trial. That is a big reason those numbers are so low. I do want to be clear. I am in no way blaming victims for this. There are a whole list of reasons why a victim would not want to report or prosecute and I understand all of them, so does the DA's office.

I asked Tamara what she would tell a victim who was afraid of the process. I loved her answer; it came in a couple parts. She would, of course, let the victim know that they had the choice. It was up to them. She would also tell them that even though it's about them, it is also about others. Tamara informed me that many times it has happened where one girl reports and with that the police are either able to connect other reports or through investigating find other victims. Both of those things make the cases stronger. A big thing she told me she would tell them was that she has seen so much empowerment come to the victim through the court process.

A lot of the times for people I have talked to and in my own experience when I think of court  I think fear, but Tamara let me know that while there can be some scary instances in her experience it empowers victims more than anything else.

One of the last things I learned yesterday was that it's never too late. Sure reporting right away and getting a rape kit done and potentially having DNA makes a case strong, it's not the only way to get a case done. Tamara let me know that both her team and detectives who handle sexual assault cases have had extensive training and understand how reporting works. A lot of times reporting is done late, sometimes stories are inconsistent. They know this and are patient when working with victims. The police also have many tricks up their sleeve for investigating these cases and can a lot of the time make a case even if there is no DNA. Bottom line: don't give up.

I am so grateful to have been able to meet with Tamara yesterday and learn about reporting and prosecuting sexual assault cases. I learned this and so much more. This information helped me and I hope that it is able to help some of you out there who are going through this process, know someone going through this process, or are considering starting the process.

Saturday, April 15, 2017

I Hope They Call Me On A Mission

I grew up singing the Primary song 

I hope they call me on a mission
When I have grown a foot or two
I hope by then I will be ready
To teach and preach and work as missionaries do 

Tonight at the adult session of Stake Conference all the full time missionaries were asked to stand. This isn't uncommon. What was uncommon is that when they all stood up I began to cry. 

I have had the desire to serve a full time mission for my church since I was a teenager. I thought I would be able to do this. Sadly due to my mental illnesses I am not able to go on a mission as I would like. 
For those of you who aren't Mormon I want to be clear that having a mental illness does not disqualify you from serving a mission. You does, however, need to be managed well enough that your focus can be on your service. The mission field is full of blessings, but it's not always easy. There are challenges and hardships and trials. 
I do not disagree with them. If I were allowed to go on a full time mission I would most likely end up returning early. That wouldn't be good for anyone. 

In my church there is a system set up for those of us who cannot serve full time missions. I will be able to be honorably excused from a full time missionary serve and have the opportunity to live at home and do a part time service mission. 
Something I struggle with is going back and forth with accepting this. Don't get me wrong. I want to serve and I'm willing to serve however I can. There have been many times when I think I have accepted that I cannot serve full time, but then there will be another time following that when I desperately want to serve a full time mission.

Tonight was one of those nights. When all the missionaries were asked to stand I couldn't keep from crying because I wanted to be standing with them. I think part of why I was so senesitive was because last week I had to postpone my service mission. 

You see, for the past four months I have been working with my Bishop setting up my service mission. I was supposed to start in June. My mental health and physical health has gotten to be that that is not possible. I need to focus on staying healthy right now and so last week I put my mission on hold. 

I did try to make it clear to my Bishop though that this was in no way canceling my mission. I don't care if I can't serve until I'm 30 (okay, hello hyperbole), I will do my service mission. 

I know that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints is true.  I know that my Savior lives. I know he loves me and he died so I might live again. I know he Atoned for my sins. I know he felt all the pain and hurt and sickness I have ever and will ever feel. I know he had gone through it so that by him I might. I know God is my Heavenly Father. I know he hears my prayers. I know we have a prophet who is alive today who tells us what God would have us know now. I believe Joseph Smith was a prophet who saw God and Jesus Christ. I believe the Book of Mormon to be true and that it goes hand in hand with the Bible. These things I have faith in. These things I trust in. These things I want to share. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen 

Friday, April 14, 2017

Seeing My Rapist Again

Everyone's trauma story is unique to them. There are a plethora of different ways people can experience abuse and by a wide variety of people.

One common myth about sexual assault is that it often occurs by a stranger. We have this perception of bad guys lurking in dark alleys with ski masks on. In reality according to the Rape Abuse and Incest Nation Network (RAINN) only 28% of rapes are committed by a stranger.

I sometimes wonder if it would have been easier if I had been raped by a stranger. If I would have been able to move on quicker if I didn't have that broken bond of trust and if I never had to see my perpetrator again. I can't say for sure because I haven't experienced that, but I know that having to see my rapist is incredibly difficult.

I don't have to see him as often as I used to. I have taken measures to remove myself from places he is near. Sadly that even includes my home.

I generally don't have to see him at church anymore. The one thing my church leadership was able to do was move him to a different ward. I have mixed feelings about that. I wanted away from him so bad and was so grateful when my Stake president offered to move him to a different ward because my family and I were about to move to a different ward ourselves to get away from him. I feel a sense of guilt though with him being sent to a new ward. Not about him, but my biggest fear is that he will rape another girl and I felt that now he had access to new unsuspecting girls. My ambivalent feelings aside I am grateful I didn't have to move from my ward and that I don't have to see him every Sunday.

There are only two days a year I know we will for sure be in the same room. That is for Stake Conference. Twice a year when all the wards meet together to hear from our church leadership. I go and so does he.

I have been thinking about it a lot because that biannual event is this Sunday. Easter. I expect it to be difficult because although I don't know the exact date I was raped because of Dissociative Amnesia, I do know it was very close after Easter. Sadly I now relate this wonderful, joyous holiday with the worst day of my life.

I'm always scared to see him. Even still. I think at this point I'm not scared of him doing anything to me. I know he can no longer hurt me. What I'm scared of is how I will react. When I see his face everything he did to me comes flooding back sometimes just in memory and sometimes in the form of a flashback. I never know how I will react. Will I scream? Will I freak out and try and hit something? Will I crawl under the table or run away? Or will I sit calmly in my chair while internally shaking? I don't know.

I know what some of you are probably thinking. Just don't go. It's one Sunday. You can skip church one Sunday so you don't have to see your rapist.

I know. I could easily stay home if I wanted to, but there's a reason I go and it's the same reason I still attend the same church building where I was raped and the reason I still sit in the row in the chapel I have always sat in. Because these things are important and sacred to me. I am not going to let him take them away from me. He doesn't get that.

So I will go to Stake Conference on Sunday. I will sing the songs. I will listen to the speakers. And I will see my rapist.

I won't be alone. My parents will be by my side as well as Jenny. I also have a few select people at church who know who he is. They watch out for me and make me feel safe as well.

I know I'm strong enough to do this.

Thursday, April 13, 2017

Teachers Can Be Guardian Angels Too

My life has been full of guardian angels. I've been so very blessed to have so many been placed in my life to aid me on my journey.

When I look back on my years in high school they still amaze me. The fact that I graduated on time is no small miracle.

My sophomore year I started my journey with mental illness. It started with a Major Depressive Episode which transitioned into my first psychotic episode. My second psychotic episode started near the beginning of my junior year.

Due to the nature of my symptoms and the frequent hospitalizations I wasn't in school very much. Sophomore year I missed at least one day a week due to the severity of my depression. The end of my sophomore year I went on medical Home Study.

I wanted to go back to school for junior year, but when my second psychotic episode started I went back on Home Study for all of junior year. That year was so rough I was unable to do any work the whole first semester and completed the whole work between January and May of that school year.

Again, my goal was to go back to school for Senior year, but instead I went to Residential, a choice I will never regret. I did go back to school part day for the last semester of my senior year because I wanted to walk the stage for graduation.

Throughout all these ups and downs with school I received an incredible amount of help. At this time in my life I hadn't accepted my journey yet and was still embarrassed of my mental illnesses. I told hardly anyone. The select few people I did tell though carried me through those years.

My parents were my biggest advocates. My dad did most of my junior year assignments right along side me. He sometimes had to read me the text book before we did the questions because my mind did not allow me enough clarity to read.

I cannot say enough good things about the high school I went to. The administration was incredibly supportive and worked so well with me to get done everything I wanted to accomplish. They never gave up on me. I know that I was incredibly lucky to have such a great school admin.

Through all of this there is one person who stands out. I could not have done it without him. Since I have not asked permission to read about him I will shorten his name to Mr. T.

Mr. T was one of those teachers who cares an incredible amount for his students. He was one of my teachers sophomore year. When I went on Home Study the end of sophomore year he was my Home Study teacher. That means he came to my house each week and went through my work with me. He was also my Home Study teacher for most of my Junior year.

Mr. T was also one of the people on my emergency list for someone I could always go to if I had a problem at school. I could go and sit in his class if my hallucinations or anxiety got too bad. He was one of the people I was always honest with. He was a great listener and always found a way to make me smile no matter the situation.

I remember the time I had my first hallucination at school. I was in another teacher's pod. I was walking in circles unresponsive. None of the teachers, admin, or security guard could get through to me. I think they couldn't get ahold of my mom so they called Mr. T out of his classroom to come down. He just talked to me. I didn't really pay attention and I didn't respond. I couldn't, but he started cracking jokes. That was enough to make me smile. For a small moment he was able to pull a little bit of me away from my hallucination.

When I went back to school Senior year I tutored for Mr. T. I loved still being able to see him and talk to him when I needed to. I've gone back since graduation to see him too.

Mr. T. was definitely one of my high school guardian angels. I don't think I could have graduated without his help. Everyone deserves to have at least one teacher like Mr. T. in their lifetime. One they will never forget.

Wednesday, April 12, 2017

What Is Down Will Come Up

The past few weeks have been crazy. (Side note: I wonder how many posts I start like that?)

I've started so many blog posts throughout the past little while about this, but haven't been able to finish any of them.

My mental health has been consistently inconsistent since January. I'm safe, I'm managing, but I've been working on residual effects of trauma with my therapist and the possible addition of a new diagnosis.

With this has come on and off depression, though I'm fairly certain that it's stemming from my chronic pain rather than my mental health. It can make things difficult. I often get frustrated and discouraged, but have been striving lately to remind myself of all the good in my life.

With everything that I've been through I know that I will get through this the same way. I often look back and remind myself where I've come from. I've been out of the hospital for a year and a half after two and a half years of being hospitalized every six months. I'm in college. I'm living on my own. I'm still present and coherent. When I look on it like that suddenly things don't seem so bad.

One of the biggest things that help are the people who support me through life. I don't have a lot of friends my own age. I don't make friends easy and I really need to work at keeping up friendships better. That being said I have very supportive parents. I have brothers who would do anything for me. I have friends/acquaintances/women from church who I don't know what to call because I still feel like a child, who are an incredible support to me. I also have a group of other mental health bloggers I interact with multiple times a week. When my head tries to tell me I don't have people I remember all of these people.

With my treatment team, my friends and support system, and my stubborn personality I know I will make it out of this hump. Life is not linear, it's full of peaks and plains and dips. It's okay to not be doing hunky dory 24/7. I'm not. I don't expect to be. All I know for sure is what goes down will come back up (okay, okay I know it's the other way around for science, but mental illness is not an exact science) Months like now are when my extra dash of stubbornness serve me well. I'll continue to use it.

Tuesday, April 11, 2017

Sexual Assault Awareness

April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month and I want to talk about awareness. This is a topic I am very passionate about speaking out about. The conversations that surround the topic of sexual assault is one that is too often taboo.

I am not afraid to say that I was a victim of rape. There was a time I hid this fact from those around me. I was scared. I was scared of how I would be perceived, looked at, and judged.

Since coming out about my experiences I have had such a great outpouring of support. I have also been able to grow and heal immensely through the writing I have done.

I can understand how this can sometimes be awkward or uncomfortable to talk about, but it needs to be said aloud. When we open up and talk freely we give others permission to do the same.

Another area of awareness that comes separate from being willing to talk about sexual assault it. That awareness is being aware of the danger that is around us.

So many of us, me included, go around life with the assumption that we are safe because we're with family, or at school, or with friends from church. This was the case with me. My attacker was in my ward. I trusted him. I trusted everyone at church. I assumed that because we were together every Sunday learning about Christ that we were all good people.

This isn't always the case. Now, I'm not saying everyone is dangerous. More than not those we know are safe, but we still need to be aware of red flags. We need to talk and educate ourselves and our children.

Have that talk with your kids. It might be uncomfortable, you might not want them to know that evil is in the world, but it could help keep them safe. If I knew then what I have learned since I would have been able to see the signs that this guy was not a good person.

This month being sexual assault awareness month is the perfect time to do it. Let's raise awareness. Let's spread hope and knowledge and let people know that their past doesn't define them.

Saturday, April 8, 2017


Every now and then my Insomnia will flare up. I've had problems with my sleep since I was 15. I do take medications to sleep, but even though I'm on some heavy medications I grow tolerant to meds very very quickly. Take tonight for example.

I took my meds early tonight. I took them around 9:30pm I think. I woke up at 1am, stayed awake for about an hour and a half, then went back to sleep until 4am. Now I'm awake and know I won't be going back to sleep.

I've learned through trial and error that for me to sleep until say 7am when I normally need to get up for school I have to wait until midnight to take my pills. They'll last about that long now.

Going up on my sleeping meds is not an option. I take two for sleep. One is Trazodone which I am maxed out on. Since I maxed out on that my psychiatrist added Restoril. That one will put me to sleep while Trazodone is supposed to make me stay asleep.

When she first added Restoril I could sleep from 9:30pm-8am. Slowly that has dwindled down.

Even though I don't sleep I normally lie in bed anyway around 10ish and try to relax. My brain generally stops working well at night. If I'm extremely tired I can fall asleep on my own; however the most my body can ever sleep on its own without medication is an hour and a half.

I normally rely on getting to sleep from midnight to 7am, but then I have to factor in other things. Some nights my pain will be too high that it will cancel out my sleeping meds. Other times I'll have a nightmare and wake up in the middle of the night and be awake for a while.

Long story short my sleep is hardly ever good and because when I do sleep it's due to medication it is more of a drugged sleep and I never feel rested. I know a lot of people have opinions on medications and sleeping meds, but I have tried sleeping on my own and I have tried OTC and herbal remedies, they don't work for me.  If I don't take the meds I take I could go days without sleeping. My body simply won't sleep on its own.

I do go through phases though where it is better than others, however this is not one of those times. Right now my sleep, due to a number of factors, is not very good. This creates a problem because our bodies need sleep. If I don't get enough sleep my pain is higher the next day, the fatigue from my EDS is worse, and my mental health is going to be worse the next day. It's kind of a vicious cycle.

I know that it will get better. I'll get out of this phase and sleep well again, or maybe we'll tweak my meds. For now I just need to learn how to deal with it. Today was kind of my fault. I know better than to take my meds that early, but I was tired so I did it anyways. Oh well. It won't kill me. Just like everything else in life it is something I learn to handle and live with.

Wednesday, April 5, 2017

My Body Is Never Going to get Better, Is It?

I'm going to be honest with you. I'm not making this post to have any sort of moral or meaning. I'm not making it to share a success story. I'm making it because this is something I'm having a hard time with and writing here is how I figure things out. This will probably include a lot of complaining and processing. Fair warning.

I've talked a little bit about how I've been told I have Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS). It's a connective tissue disorder. We believe I have Hypermobility type and so my main problem right now is that my joints don't want to stay in place.

I've only been dealing with this for four or five months and I'm not going to lie, it has been hard. I'm 19 years old and being told I have a chronic illness. I'm being told that there's nothing that can be done. I'm being told that I need to learn how to live while being in pain. I'm being told I could end up in a wheelchair.

I've been seeing doctor after doctor hoping that someone can help me. These past two weeks that has made it worse actually. I was told that i needed to see a rheumatologist and a pain management doctor. I finally got in to see a rheumatologist last week only to have her tell me that she won't take me as a patient because there's nothing to be done for the disorder I have. Then I saw a pain management doctor on Monday.

It's funny. When I got the appointment set for this doctor I was so incredibly excited because I honestly believed that he was the person who could help me. I became increasingly discouraged when he told me he wasn't going to go forward with treating me, that any treatment side effects would be worse that what I was dealing with, and that all I needed was to exercise more and learn how to live with the pain.

The rheumetologist is setting me up with a doctor at UCLA, and I'm seeing a geneticist there in August. It just seems like everything is so out of reach. In the last month I have seen three specialists in Bakersfield in three different areas of medicine and they have all told me there's nothing they can do. I don't really know where I go with that.

I had been holding on to hope before this last appointment. I had been holding on to hope that my body could get better. I've realized this week that my body is never going to get better and it will probably get worse.

I know there has to be a way to treat this, to find at least a little relief. I know that I just haven't found the right doctor yet. I've made it through so many hard things in life. I know this will be just another obstacle. I have faith that there is a reason for this. I do not know it yet. I might never know, but I know there's a reason. I just need to remain faithful.

The one thing that has been my saving grace this past week is that on Sunday I started learning how to crochet. It has helped me. I have to be careful because it can make my neck/back hurt and I need to be careful with my wrists, but I love creating. It's been very calming.

I guess that's it for now. This isn't a very put together post. I don't mind. I needed to just get all my thoughts down. Congratulations if you made it through all that rambling. Good night.

Sunday, March 26, 2017

Why I Choose to Utilize Psychiatric Medications.

I always hate it when I see those articles entitled, "How to get through anxiety or depression without medication." For a couple reasons. One, I always feel like they're looking down on those of us who do take medications. (I know this isn't always the case, so sorry if you've written one of these posts) And two, because those of us who do take medication for our mental health aren't cured be it. We still have to fight and struggle and utilize the same exact coping skills they are talking about in order to get or stay healthy.

I view medication as a helpful tool, but only a tool. I am not naive enough to ever consider it a cure. Choosing to take medications is a deeply personal choice that everyone needs to make for themselves and with their doctors. I am not a professional, just a 19 year old college girl, with a list of diagnosis, who has been on medication since she turned 15.

For my mental health journey medication wasn't a choice. It was a necessity. I do believe that there are some cases where medications are a necessity. Two of which I encountered were suicidal thoughts and hallucinations.

Medication did not cure me, it still hasn't, and it sadly never will. Such is one of my trials in life which I will endure until I meet my Maker. What medication did do is keep me alive and help me to stabilize in times of crisis.

It wasn't all good. I have had side effects from certain medications. When I went on one antidepressent it made me suicidal, as sometimes happens with SSRI's and adolescents. I went on one medication and didn't sleep for 76 hours straight. That was a bad one. These are just some examples. I am fully aware that psychiatric medications are not fool proof.

It takes time to find the right medication treatment. When you're stable for a while one might stop working and you might need to find a new one. I, for some unknown reason, tend to develop a tolerance to medications very very quickly. I'm always upping doses and maxing out so we have to switch to a different one. This is why it is extremely important to find a psychiatrist you like and work well with - not an easy task.

What I choose to focus on is the good that they do me when they're working. I focus on the good days. I take what I learn from each medication and add that knowledge to the ever-growing file folder that is my brain.

I don't want to be on medications forever. I, personally feel like I'm taking too much right now, but that's because I'm switching between a couple. However, I know that I need to be on medication right now. One day, after I've been stable for a while we will talk about weaning me off of my meds, but for now they are one coping skill I choose to use.

Friday, March 24, 2017

Why I Never Reported My Rapist to the Police

My trauma story is complicated. I'm sure many are. In all actuality I was raped almost four years ago, shortly after Easter of 2013. However, our minds are incredible things that can do amazing work in the name of protecting itself.

I had something called Dissociative Amnesia which I will probably write more on at a later time. Most simple what it means is that I forgot about my attack. I forgot everything as a coping skill. My brain knew I was not capable of processing the trauma that had occurred so it took it away.

It does not feel like it has been four years since my attack happened. I first told my therapist about it September of 2015. That day I was placed, terrified, into UCLA's psychiatric hospital.

I did speak to a policeman. As mandated reporters they had to call the police and a man came down to take my statement. At that point in my life it had been a day since I had told anyone. I was terrified of everything. I didn't yet have the full memories of my assault like I do now. I didn't trust anyone. I didn't trust myself.

Out of fear and shame I did not speak to the policeman very much. I don't actually remember what all I told him. I remember bits and pieces. I remember I had to take two breaks between talking to him. I remember I couldn't have done it without my amazing Social Worker, Megan, by my side. I also remember that I didn't tell him the whole truth. I down played the attack. I didn't want anyone to know what had happened. I had not processed or accepted it yet.

That was the one and only time I spoke to any law enforcement because after that I went to Residential for 10 weeks. When I came home, together with my support system, we decided I would not go to the police right away.

One of my main concerns throughout the whole process was not being believed. I have heard the horror stories of women who tried to report their sexual abuse and were made into the problem, not seen as the victim. Plus I already had a mental health background which I feared would make me automatically dismissed.

Instead I opted to go the church route. I reported within my church. Due to the time that had passed there was no evidence left. Due to the nature of the assault there were no witnesses. Due to my rapist being a sadistic monster he denied it outright. Through absolutely no fault of my church leadership nothing was able to be done about it.

That absolutely crushed my heart. In my head I knew it was the likely outcome, but had let myself hope for a better one. For the longest time I blamed the wrong people. I was hurt. I thought my leadership didn't believe me when he was unable to tell me what I wanted to hear. I was wrong.

That set me back pretty far and after that I would not go to the police for fear of the same or a worse response. I didn't know if I could take it again.

For a few months now I have wanted to go to the police. I know that nothing will happen with my case. It is too late, but I also know that there will be another girl like me and if the police already know my perpetrators name she will be more easily believed.

Different fears hold me back now. Sure, I still have the same fears of not being believed, but now I'm worried they will take action against me if I try to change my story. If I add to it and take away from it. I was very honest about my lack of a complete memory with them, but I'm sure very few police are familiar with Dissociative Amnesia. Heck, the word "dissociative" shows up with a red squiggly line under it when I type it because my computer isn't even familiar with it, but I digress. I'm afraid of having lied to the police. It wasn't major, but it was there. The hard part is not remembering what I said, mainly I think I just downplayed everything.

If I could go back and do it all over again I would report everything the minute I knew it. The day I could finally say "It was Him" I would go to the station. Not having that report, not having been able to at least try to go through a court process, not facing my attacker is one of my biggest regrets. I know I didn't do everything possible in my power to stop him from hurting another little girl.

Reporting a sexual assault is not something that is an easy decision. If anyone out there is struggling to make that decision know that it is completely your choice. If you want my advice you can take it, if not that's completely your decision, but I would report. I would do it. It won't be easy. You may not be believed, but that would be the fault of others. Looking back you would be able to tell yourself that you had done everything in your power. Whatever you choose, I'll be standing right here beside you.

Wednesday, March 22, 2017

To My Rapist: This is What You Made Me

A Letter to My Rapist "This is What You Made Me" written January 30, 2017

I am not yours. You do not own me. You do not claim right or responsibility over any part of me.

You are a sadistic animal who takes pleasure in raping little girls. You will never be anything more than that.

But I will be so much more than that.

You talked to me of all the ways you would change me. And you did change me, but let me tell you how.

Because of you I learned how to defend myself with force and with word. I made my body stronger.

Because of you I started learning about advocacy work. I made myself louder.

Because of you I gave myself a voice. A voice to scream with. A voice to say no with. A voice to fight back with. I made myself braver.

Because of you I built myself up from under the table I learned how to survive. I made myself more powerful.

You had control over me for a day. The power of a child who could not fight back. That does not make you strong. That makes you a coward.

You had power for a day, but my power will last a lifetime. You did not break me. You are not that strong.

I am like a willow, bending with the wind, but standing firm on solid ground.

Tuesday, March 21, 2017

No Goal is Too Small

My goals used to look like: write a speech in a day, go running with Jenny, clean my room, get straight A's in all my classes. I look at those goals now and need to remind myself to take a breath, and then two steps to the side--maybe three.

I say take steps to the side because I've moved away from where I used to be, but I refuse to move backwards. There are a lot of things I have had to get used to with my new found chronic illness  and a big one is accepting the things I cannot do. You might be tired of reading my writings about this. It comes up a lot, but I've always heard the phrase "write what you know."
Well, like it, love it, want to chuck it out the window, this is my life and this is what I know.

Today's goal was successful. However, I did have a day last week, maybe two I can't remember, where the same goal was not successful. What was this goal? To take a shower.

Yes, yes, I know. Mundane. Simple. My dad can crank out a shower in like four minute and be clean as a whistle. However, the life of a person with chronic illness is not always easy.

The car accident I was in on Saturday triggered my Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome to go into another flare. At least I'm pretty sure that's what happened. I'm still figuring all this stuff out too. Moving on, what that means is more pain that normal and more fatigue than normal. What that means is that easy tasks like taking a shower leave me out of breath.

It took me until this afternoon before I got in the shower and I had to rest for about 40 minutes afterwards just to recover from that. I'm not complaining, on the contrary. I was so proud of myself! I did it. I accomplished my goal. So what I had to rest afterwards. That's life.

I don't know what tomorrow's goal will be. That will be decided when I open my eyes. It will probably involve going to my morning class. Whatever it is will be good enough. My goals don't have to climb mountains. That's not my job. My job is to do what I can to take care of me. Today that meant taking a shower. It may seem small, but it was good enough for me.

Don't worry about your goals. Don't compare your goals. No goal is too small.

Sunday, March 19, 2017

Relief Society: The Women of my Church

One of many amazing things about my church is out emphasize on service and striving to live as the Savior lived. I had a first hand experience with that yesterday.

Yesterday I was in a car accident. The driver of the other car made an illegal U-turn without looking. I tried to swerve but couldn't avoid them hitting me. My car spun around a few times before coming to a stop. Due to experiencing sharp pain in my back along with muscle spasms I went to the ER to make sure everything was okay.

Normally my mom or dad would take me, but they were out of town. I didn't want to go alone and didn't feel like driving at that moment was the safest thing for me to do so I started calling people for rides.

It was a Saturday afternoon and people were busy or out of town. Thankfully it turned out that my brother could take me. That isn't the point though. The point is that I had a list of about ten women from my church who I could call to help me. I am not super close with all of them, but they all would have been more than willing to help me if they could.

Through my church I am apart of the largest women's organization in the world, the LDS Relief Society. I am so grateful to be a part of something so wonderful. I felt so loved yesterday when I had so many people I could call for help. They truly strive to live and love as Christ himself taught by example.

I'm happy to report that I am doing well today. I'm safe. I wasn't able to go to church today and will probably just spend the day resting, but I am so grateful to my Heavenly Father for keeping me safe and for allowing me not to be seriously injured.

Thursday, March 16, 2017

Why I Say "I'm Fine" When Asked How I Am

I've written before about having Ehlers-Dablos Syndrome. It's a connective tissue disorder that affects my collagen and it causes chronic pain. For some reason the last part of that sentence is hard for me to write. Maybe it's because I'm still coming to terms with my illness. Maybe it's because I feel like I'm complaining. Maybe it's because I feel like people will feel sorry for me and I don't want that. Maybe it's all of the above.

Except for with a select few people I tend to minimize my pain. I say "it's okay" i say "it's manageable" even when it isn't. Even in physical therapy. I push myself through the pain because I feel like I have to even though I know it's bad for me.

I understand that when I come out and talk about hard topics on such a public platform I'm going to get questions. I understand when I'm walking with crutches, but there's no cast on my leg people are going to take a second look. I should be used to questions and most of the time I am, but I need people to understand that they need to accept my answers and accept that they fluctuate.

Last semester I made a friend with one of the ladies who works in the cafeteria at school. She took a liking to me. Well, she took a liking to Jenny and by extension me. She is as sweet as she could be and I honestly believe she does everything she does from a place of love, but every day when I see her she asks me when I'm going to be better. I've tried to explain that it's a chronic, life long illness and that I'm not going to get better. That day I made her cry. The next day she asked when I was going to be feeling better. This was taxing to me. I can go through most days not thinking about the fact that I'm not going to get better, until someone reminds me.

I've just started telling her that I am doing good. Everyday when she asks I say "Oh I'm doing good today. How are you?" Even when I'm not doing good. Even when I'm in pain or dizzy or fatigued. I'm always doing good.  This extends beyond her as well.

I've found it easier to just tell people I'm fine rather than explain how I'm not. Even with my friends who know about my diagnosis I do this. No one wants to hear that you're sick or in pain all the time. It would be fine if I had a broken leg  and was going to get better, but spread it out over a life time and I'm just complaining.

I understand not all people are like this. Some really want to know how I'm doing, but it's too difficult to weed out the few from the many. Ultimately it's just easier for my sanity to keep my answers to "I'm fine. How are you?"