Ruby Fitzgerald's Blog, page 4

Bipolar Disorder

I invited IG@livingmybestlife_poitively_ to guest write on my blog because of her incredible dedication to doing what's best for her mental/emotional health. I want people to stop being afraid to tell the truth about their struggles, and to know that the journey to wellness is unique to each struggle, each person, each life. Some people need therapy, some need medication, some people diet, some meditate, etc... and some people need a mix of all forms of treatment and support. And that is okay. Being alive - being human in the modern world - is already hard enough, but when you do it with a mental illness...? I consider you a warrior.

Don't think the same? Read the personal story of Amanda below and perhaps you'll have an eye-opening moment.

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Living with Bipolar Disorder

Living with this disease is hard... Everyday I wake up, I struggle.. I struggle to get up, I struggle to wake up, I struggle to get dressed, I struggle to do the normal day to day things that regular people take for granted. It is rough.  It took a lot of trial and error a lot of different medications and a lot of awesome support from my boyfriend Saeed, my best friend Ayana, and certain family members to get to where I am today.

When you have a family like mine, one that is not always supportive or supportive when they want to be, it is hard to come out and express to them how you are feeling or how you are struggling. I am in pain every single day but no one knows it, no one sees just how much pain I in. But I wonder does anyone even care? Does anyone even care to look, to notice the change?

Today I take 2 different medications just to be able to function and get through life on a day to day basis; along with a bunch of other medications for migraines and for allergies. But my two main medications are what help me handle normal everyday life. Without these medications I would not be able to do anything. Sometimes I feel sad, like what went wrong with me that I am this way? But once I investigated I found out that these issues I have - these problems - run in my dad's and my mom's side of the family. Even though no one wants to talk about them and i'ts all hush hush, these are very real problems that could have saved me a lot of grief had I know ahead of time I could have protected myself.  

But now I am at a point in my life where I am happy. I am finally living life for me and that is what the most important thing is. I exercise on a regular basis, I have changed my diet, I am happier then I have ever been and now that my condition is controlled I know it is only up from here; I have a positive outlook on life and I know nothing is going to stop me now. 

I can not stress enough how important getting help for yourself is. I see a psychologist and a psychiatrist and there is nothing wrong with that. I know so people will make you feel like that is wrong or like it's a problem, but it's not. What is wrong is, if you have a problem like certain people in my family and you do not get help for it, and everyone in the family knows about this and your problems, but they are left to be swept under the rug and not taken care of. This is the real issue we have in America today. People put such a stigma on getting help, like "oh there must be something wrong with that one since she sees a doctor" or "oh you don't want to mess with that one she is crazy" and that's not fair. No one should be allowed to make you feel like less of a person or a wrong person for getting help. Despite my family's stigmas, I got help and now I'm living a full life with someone who cares deeply about me and we are happy. It is so important to get help, I can not stress that enough; I am looking to break down those walls that people put up about this topic because it is something that needs to be discussed on a regular basis. This is something normal people suffer from everyday, and I am choosing to say it stops with me. I am done with the name calling, and the poking fun, and the stigmas.

So people please, do yourself and your family a favor and get help if you need it. It only can better your life... 

Contradictions

*trigger warning*

I struggled with bulimia for years. 

I had a tangled mix of self esteem, body, and control issues. I remember comments from my school friends and coworkers about how skinny I was, despite the fact that I would eat anything offered to me. I am/was blessed with a great metabolism - genetically predisposed to being a "healthy" weight without really having to try. But then I also added on not eating much in the way of breakfast and rarely packing myself a lunch for during school, and on days I worked after school, I rarely had dinner... I was thin. I remember eating literally anything my friends would have leftover from their lunches, sometimes getting hot lunch from school when I was willing to spend the money, and stealing teddy grams from the concessions at the pool that I worked at to call "dinner". My family wasn't well off, but we always had food available. Always. But, I just sank into this habit of not eating until I was ravenous. And that's when I'd mow down on snacks and leftovers from others. Needless to say, that was a vicious cycle of starving and binging that became increasingly harder to break the longer it went on.

However, that food cycle had nothing to do with the vomiting part of bulimia. Vomiting was a control thing for me-- mentally/emotionally fueled, rather than physically fueled. It stemmed from the less-than-ideal eating habits I had, but in no way was birthed from the same demons. No... vomiting was a evil creature unto itself. It was fear. anger. frantic thoughts. and anxiety brought on by a need for a control. Vomiting was, in a way, a form of panic attack. 

What I feel like people in my life have struggled most to understand about my mental illnesses is that looking good on the outside does not always translate to feeling good inside. Yes, wealth, health, notoriety, and physical beauty play a role in one's mental/emotional health, but there's always more to the story than what meets the eye. Even the most gorgeous, rich, well-known and well-loved person can be plagued by mental health issues. 

Don't make assumptions about people's wellbeing based on surface impressions. Don't assume that someone who's thin can't have body issues. Don't assume someone who likes cracking jokes isn't depressed. And most of all, if someone tells you they are struggling....believe them. Even if how they look or act contradicts what they say.

The Power to Choose

This post by Self-Love & Sexuality Coach, Arielle Dangelo, really resonates with me because, for a long time, I struggled with being angry at the world... Mad at my mind that it was troubled and mad at the world that it did nothing to help me. It was many years before I realized that I needed to be honest with myself, humble myself - and seek help and support - in order to gain control of my life. Also, that I needed to join the mental health community and be available to support others. I faced each morning with sorrow and hopelessness and down-right rage for many many years. But Arielle says it right: choosing love means choosing freedom. And that includes loving myself... scars, hurts, illnesses, struggles, and all. Once I chose acceptance and love, I was ready to grow.

I hope her post speaks to you as much as it speaks to me. Read up!


THE POWER TO CHOOSE

There were many times where I wanted to give up. Trying to be the best person, daughter, sister, friend, student felt exhausting. It felt like everything was going wrong, and everything was wrong with me. I had no idea why I was here and why bad things always felt like they were happening "to" me. These moments of darkness were scary and disorienting.

But it was in one of my lowest moments that I realized I had a choice.

I had the power to choose if I was going to continue playing the victim, allowing life to happen to me, or if I was going to stand up and take control. I realized that no matter what is going on in my life, I can choose to live with love or live with anger.

It's not always easy to choose love, actually sometimes it can be incredibly difficult. But once you choose love, you choose freedom. If you're going through something difficult, let this be your sign to release the anger and heal yourself with love. You deserve it. Sometimes this journey that we're on doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but I promise you that we are always growing because of it. Try to find the silver lining and the light that lays beyond the darkness, and know that I am sending you a whole lot of love and light.


Want to follow Arielle on Instagram? check her out @arielledangelo
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The Season of Sadness

I don’t remember when my brain got sad. It wasn’t like I woke up one morning and noticed that a melancholy had set in, deep into my bones, and said to myself, “I must be depressed.” All I know for sure is that winter holidays made my spirit feel heavy and growing up - going through middle school into high school - really took a toll on my mental health.

*suicide trigger warning*

I do remember, very clearly, one cold December day after the school bell had rung: I had opened up my locker in the basement of the middle school and found that my uneaten container of apple sauce had spilled open all over my belongings. I had stared for a good long time, not really processing the situation, before laying my forehead against the door of my locker in defeat. I was completely overwhelmed... Too weary to deal with a small mess.

I think it was then that I realized I was in the midst of a season of sadness. I didn’t have the words to describe what I was going through. I didn’t yet really comprehend the meaning of the word ‘depression’ and it certainly never occurred to me to bring up the topic of mental illnesses to a parent, teacher, or even a friend. But I did realized that feeling sluggish, weepy, and isolated was not normal. But those feelings continued on for years. I wrote terrible, sorrowful poetry, I threw myself entirely into schoolwork as a distraction from my circling thoughts, but still I struggled. I self-harmed and developed an eating disorder. I tormented my body, synchronized with my brain tormenting me.

Realizing that my suffering, although seemingly unconquerable, could eventually have an end, came on another cold day. I was sitting on a cliffside near my house (in Oregon where hills and cliffs are many) contemplating jumping. Wondering if I’d die. Wondering if I’d just break my legs.... Wondering if I actually had it in me to go over the ledge. As goosebumps rose on my skin and my breath blew out in a fog around my face I heard a voice, whether it be God, nature, or simply the will to live buried away deep in my heart, I will never know. But the voice said, “Wait. Just wait and see. It gets better.”

And so I walked back from that ledge, crunched through the leaves on the hard ground. I set my jaw, slowly building up the determination that I would get through, I would live to see sunnier, brighter, happier days. That I would wait - wait and see - what life had to offer me, eventually.

Join me next Saturday for a guest feature post!!

Being Smart Doesn't Mean Not Doing Dumb Things

I understand that the holidays are stressful for everyone. But something about the combo of groups of people, festive pressure, travel, expected conversation, and disjointed sadness when all was done, just killed me as a kid. Still troubles me now... I mean, really, for me the "holiday season" might as well be called "panic attack season" but at least now I'm aware enough to work through the stress and still enjoy family and friends rather than completely mentally/emotionally shutting down.

Because I associated the holidays with tension (and tension especially at the hands of strangers) when I was a child, my anxiety became linked to crowds. To Thanksgiving and Christmas. To family figures of authority. I learned to hate the months of November and December. And once I was an adult, that translated into not wanting anything to do with those exact things. They were triggers. Triggers for panic, for memories I didn't want to recall, and triggers for a short temper and dumb, unjustified unacceptance of my own self.

That anxiety caused a self-fulfilling prophecy of discomfort: Anxiety made me avoid social situations, made me say dumb/awkward things when I did dare to partake in conversation, and made me think I was weird, which caused my self esteem struggle. And with lowered self esteem, I became more anxiety-ridden, which made me avoid social situations, and so on and so forth. You get the idea.

I'm smart. I'm creative. People tend to like me. And yet it didn't matter. Once that anxiety had a hold on my confidence and comfort I was trapped. I rejected myself.

So dumb!!
And yet so understandable. And so common.

Self esteem is a weird and delicate thing. It's influenced by our upbringing, our mental health, our appearance, the media, our romantic relationships, our intelligence, success, wealth, and even sense of humor. But most of all, I believe it's based in awareness- seeing and accepting who you are and who the people around you are. And that's the part of self esteem building that I have been focusing on.

My mantras have been...
We all do dumb things, so laugh it off when it happens. Someone will always be better looking, more charismatic, richer, cooler, etc etc than me. That's ok. And no matter what I do, it will always be a necessity to sometimes face people - strangers - converse with them, and make connections... but eventually strangers become aquantences, and aquantences may very well turn into friends. Baby steps, right?

It's not that I've gotten over my anxiety and insecurities, it's simply that I've gotten tired of apologizing for them. I'm me. And that includes my problems and mental health struggles.

And you know what? Accepting my weaknesses makes me stronger.


Join me next Saturday for: The Season of Sadness

Journey: Inside and Out

A year from now I will be embarking on a physical journey— one that will send me over seas through numerous countries, far from home. In this next year, however, leading up to that trip, I want to focus on my mental health journey. It’s been a long - LONG - road getting to be as self-satisfied and stable as I am now, but I know that it’s still not reached its end. I know that every day develops individually as a step back or a step forward for in my ability to enjoy my life. My health is a fluid, ever-changing, ever-developing thing. One that requires constant commitment. And because I have fought so hard, and learned so much, and am so stubbornly willing to share my weakness, my crazy, and the hope that I have that’s come from all of the hurt I’ve experienced, I have decided to take my blog platform in a new direction.

I have decided to make my blog a way to share my story. Because, when I really think about it, I've experienced a lot. Some stories I will tell may make you cry - I've been so deep in depression I contemplated suicide, I have seen a man shot on the street, I've had 39 stitches in my face, and I've been through difficult, painful breakups. Some of my stories might make you laugh- I lost my bikini top jumping into a pool on vacation, I nearly set my guinea pig on fire, and I - for real, no joke - once winked at Rupert Grint. But no matter the experience, good or bad, I believe there was a lesson to be learned. A lesson I can share with you.

I just recently turned my third book (Descendants of War: Iron Vengeance) in to my editor, so I have time now to reflect on the past and prep for the future—simultaneously. And I’d like you to come along with me on this ride. I’d like to help you grow the way that those in my life have helped me. I want you to see that positive outcomes of living through the struggles of mental illness are absolutely possible.

Take a journey inside, with me, across the mind and memory, before I take my journey outside, across the world. I promise we’ll both be better off for it.




In the Beginning there was a Child with Pointed-In Toes:

When I was a little girl I would always stand with my toes pointed in. This was a constant source of frustration to my mother, myself, and my gymnastic teacher. I cannot tell you how many times I heard the words snapped at me, “Don’t stand with your toes in”. After which, I would correct my positioning... only to find myself right back that way after only a minute or two. 

I think on that often, and it makes me want to cry. I know my mother was trying to do right by me, fix my posture, keep me from injury. But because of her lack of knowledge - on what was wrong with my legs - she didn’t know better than to assume I was just being an awkward kid by standing incorrectly. She did her best to take care of me, as did coaches and PE teachers, by telling me to straighten out my feet. However, the root of the problem went unidentified until I was an adult. It turned out I needed physical therapy; I needed to get chiropractic adjustments and retrain my muscles. Once that was done— well... I stand and walk with my feet straight now, just fine. I could have avoided years of anxiety-inducing self-consciousness and physical discomfort, had I had the adjustments and therapy earlier in life.

I bring up this story not to complain but rather explain. To me, it’s a perfect analogy for the mental health crisis going on today. For YEARS we’ve considered mental health taboo to talk about, we’ve either been ignorant to, or ignored, the mental parts of wellbeing, and we’ve silenced the voices of self-care and emotional growth. We’ve treated the symptoms of depression and anxiety— fatigue, insomnia, stress, restlessness, lack of concentration, irritability, etc with a concerning mix of drugs and denial, we’ve locked up “crazy” people - patients and convicts, both. We’ve brainwashed children as they come into adulthood into the cultural norms of “men are tough” and “women are emotional”, and tied happiness to monetary success rather than personal success. We’ve spent decades metaphorically telling the population not to stand with their toes in. And yet, until recently we never stopped to ask why the toes keep turning in in the first place.

In the same manner that I needed to go to therapy, so does the world’s population. We need to go through refocusing and rebuilding our understanding of health. We need to admit that the health of our emotions and thoughts is just as important as the health of our bodies. We need to be as willing to go to a psychiatrist as we are a medical doctor; we need to treat mental illnesses as equal to physical illnesses. It’s then that healing can begin.

Every year, over 42 million Americans suffer from some form of mental illness. 
It is an epidemic, an epidemic that has gone largely untreated.

I want you to ask yourself what’s something you are often troubled by - maybe even daily - that you’ve been trying to control, deal with, fix, or ignore in the same way over and over again, without getting different results. Stop the cycle. Look for the root of the problem rather than simply addressing the symptoms of it. Be bold and look in that mirror unashamed. Unashamed of scars or fears, accepting every struggle, pain, and negativity as part of who you are today. But not necessarily part of who you will be tomorrow. Be proud of how you’ve coped - you have made it this far, after all! But then allow yourself to change. To get out of denial, to take a different approach, to be inclusive of all aspects of your wellbeing. Start healing.

Someday - sooner than you might think - you’ll be standing straight, pointed in toes a mere memory.

My favorite website (they have an IG too!) for mental health information and support is The Mighty. Check it out at themighty.com. They are “a community that has your back ... no matter what health situation you’re going through.” And they’re very welcoming as a place you can share your own story.


Join me next Saturday for: Being Smart Doesn't Mean Not Doing Dumb Things

Eye of the Storm

I've been very sick the last week. It snowed. My building's water pressure was messed up. I've had work and deadlines to deal with. There was rent to pay and laundry to do, appointments to make, and people to talk to. Aka... a rough week. But I felt like I was in the eye of the storm.

Although I had a lot to do and was too sick to really want to do anything other than sleep, at the base of it all I realized that I am more at peace with myself - who I am, what I need, and what I want to do - that I have been in a very long time. Perhaps even since entering adulthood. It's such a great feeling to have the confidence to ask someone for what I need without feeling guilty or needy or somehow in the wrong. It's good to be assured of my own self worth. And it's such a huge pressure off my shoulders not to be so worried about judgement, from anyone and everyone, EVERY day, all day. I am 27 years old and feel like I just finally, recently, came into myself. Became an adult. Became me.

If you're still floundering to find peace within, find home, find confidence, love, acceptance, stability... I really urge you not to let yourself become hopeless. No matter how old you are. Because, eventually, you will feel whole in your skin. It's going to take years, and it's going to continue to take work even after you have found that foundation of balance. But it will happen.

And, I can tell you, from being in it right now, it's worth the fight. It's a beautiful, peaceful, hum of inner calm. And no matter how much the world rages around you, bad days, bad people, illness or stress, it's there for you to come back to, at your roots, at your core, in your heart.

I cry a lot. I get panic attacks. I worry. I get insecure. I am so so so so so so so not perfect. But you know what? I'm ok with that. I accept myself. And accepting myself means I don't need to be fazed by people you don't accept me. I don't need their validation or approval. Instead I can focus on encouraging trust and love and support with my friends, family, and self-- in relationships that matter, that encourage growth, and that make life more enjoyable.

Because, in the end, isn't that what we all want: To live independently, yet knowing we're surrounded by people who love us, and will help us whenever the need arises. To laugh when we're happy and cry when we're sad, without shame or judgement. And to live boldly, content within our own skin.

Bullets Not Breaths

I want to take a moment today to remind people that mental illnesses are just as real and life-altering as physical ailments. I wrote this poem about a year and a half ago, when I was not doing well. I was also especially struggling with the difference - the separation - between how healthy I looked and how terribly sick I felt.

Today, I'm doing so well! My external appearance matches my internal health. I feel confident. But it's been a long, hard fight to get here. A fight that, although can be much easier some days than others, will ultimately never end.

So to those of you fighting an invisible illness... I see you. I feel for you. And I dedicate this poem to you.


Some days
she wishes the bracelet
around her wrist was one of paper
not of metal.
So that, when she raised her fist
into the air
to tell the world 'I survived,'
they'd look at her and know her pride
instead of wondering
what the hell she was shouting for.
Some days
she wishes she could peel off
the scars on her body,
place them like stickers
on the chests of her friends,
so they'd know who hurt her
and who'd helped her
instead, she simply avoids mirrors,
and pretends she's forgotten her pain.
Some days
she wishes your words
were bullets not breaths so that,
when she staggered, cried,
clutched hand to chest,
there would be blood and justification
rather than
judgement, denial, and lies.

All in Good Time

In classic Ruby fashion, I gave myself terrible anxiety upon starting my research on traveling Europe. I've traveled a lot before... Within the US and Caribbean, sometimes alone and sometimes with a friend. I'm quite comfortable with getting on a plane and going somewhere new. But I've never "gone over seas". So, naturally, I'm a little bit intimidated. 

To kick start my planning and ease my nervousness I started seeking out info/photos of the most beautiful places in Europe. Then I started reading articles on travel sites, searching public transit options, googling common phrases in the languages of the countries I'll be visiting, etc. I did the math a dozen times for how much the trip will cost. And then a dozen times again. I started analyzing hotel and hostel rating. I read blogs. Scrolled through TripAdvisor sightseeing lists until my eyes ached. Compared flight prices with train prices. Made a checklist of what to pack...

Problem is-- my trip is a year away.

There's a difference between being prepared and being... whatever it is that my mind spun into. Obsessive? Frenzied? I started out incredibly excited about this trip and then somewhere along the way my online exploration in preparation for the trip went from pretty pictures to overly detailed hand-drawn maps, sticky notes on 35 pages of my travel book, and 19 open tabs in my internet browser. Too much, too fast. And bam: I was hit with anxiety so badly for a split second it crossed my mind not to go at all. Which would be incredibly - INCREDIBLY - foolish. I've wanted to do this trip for so long. I'm so excited. I'm planning it out with my best friend. I've worked hard to get to this point. And I have the opportunity, at last, to go. This is - quite possibly - a once in a lifetime opportunity at my fingertips!

I refuse to let my anxiety steal something so important away from me. So I'm going back to baby steps. Small searches, bits of info, casual reading. I'll be prepared, I will be. In time. 

At the right time. 

Happy Halloween

It’s two weeks until Halloween and I just saw my first Christmas advertisement. I’ll be honest, it made me a little sick to my stomach. I’m just barely beginning to adjust to summer being over, and now the commercial world wants me to be thinking of winter, red and green lights, the smell of pine trees, and gifts with big bows. No thanks. Not yet.

Nope.

As I’ve said in previous posts, I’m on a mission to enjoy my life. Appreciate being alive. And ultimately take care of myself. And that absolutely includes ignoring the upcoming holiday season. Thanksgiving and Christmas - the pressure, the family, the expense - is very anxiety inducing to me, so yeah, not going down that rabbit hole. At least not now; not when the trees are just barely taking on the colors of autumn and temperatures are still in the sweatshirt rather than coat levels. On the flip side of that declaration, I am actually going to try very hard to participate in the holidays. Halloween included. Just... on my own terms.

I’ve never been one to dress up in a costume and party. I’ve only carved pumpkins a couple times as an adult. I’m not a big candy lover. And in the past I’ve been too cheap to fork out the outrageous amount of money it costs to buy real, actual, apple cider. Although omitting myself from holidays is infinitely less stressful for me, it also leaves me feeling more than a little left out. I don’t want to dress up in a ‘slutty elmo’ costume, I don’t like pumpkin spice lattes, and no, I absolutely will not be watching any scary movies, but you know what... I would enjoy an autumn walk through some leaves and yes, I most certainly am going to carve pumpkins this year. I might even make a pumpkin pie.

Not wanting to do the “normal” thing for the holidays - raging party on Halloween, giant family get-together on Thanksgiving, and a mountain of materialistic presents on Christmas - doesn’t mean I can’t participate in the season in my own way. It doesn’t mean I should deny myself the sliver of enjoyment I get from certain parts of holiday traditions. Having social anxiety. Wanting to stick to a budget. Not wanting to get stupidly drunk. Not wanting to listen to Christmas carols... shouldn’t mean I have to be a Scrooge for for three months of the year. So I’m not going to let it. And on top of that, I’m done apologizing for what I don’t like and don’t do.

What I do and do not like about the holidays is just as much a part of me, my preferences, my personality, as what I do and do not like about music, books, clothes, games, sports, movies, or any other aspect of optional activities in life. This is me. I’m going to enjoy my life, just the way I like.

And I suggest you do the same. With no apologies needed.