Reflections of 2018

I don’t do New Year’s resolutions. I don’t usually sit and reflect on an entire year. If something needs to be changed in my life, I take measures to make that happen when it occurs. This past year, however, was different.

Toward the end of 2017, I stopped railing against the establishment and writing columns that many recognized and expected from me. I stopped consuming as much news as I had in the past. It had become overwhelming and was a detriment to my mental health.

In 2018, dealing with my mental health issues was a grinding maelstrom of pain. I learned a lot about myself and the people around me. There are scars you do not see, but they are healing.

It isn’t always easy. I still can’t control when my brain decides to fuck with me, but I am learning how to respond so my day is not so debilitating. It’s a work in progress and some days I fail. It’s important to remember to keep going.

I’ve been fortunate enough to have a boss who takes my mental health issues seriously. We have a simple plan. I come to work. I tell him where I’m at. We adjust accordingly throughout the day. In early December, I had a terrible day. I told him I needed to go to the zoo. He didn’t ask questions. He simply said, “Go.” He understands what I need to do to refocus.

Early on, I decided to be as open as I can be about my mental health because I’m tired of watching other people make jokes, which only reinforces stereotypes and stigma. We don’t make fun of people who say, “I have cancer and I need chemo” or “My tooth really hurts and I’m going to the dentist to find out what’s wrong.” Why do we continue to think less of people who know they have a mental health issue and seek help for it?

I can assure you, those people are still out there. I’ve lost “friends” over the past year because they think people should just “get over it” or a host of other excuses. If you can walk away from someone who is hurting and healing at the same time, the issue is with you, not the person who is trying to get better.

I have been semi-open about my the trauma I experienced as a child, mainly because of the reaction from people about my anxiety as well as the standard responses and tropes to people who have experienced trauma.

I’ve been laughed at and made fun of, which I expected, just not from so many people. It reaffirmed my belief that there is still a lot of work to do. I’m still going to write about it. I’m still going to talk about it.

I’m not going to apologize for my bad days and I’m not going to pretend I’m okay when I’m not just so you don’t feel uncomfortable.

It is not my responsibility to coddle others because they are uncomfortable with what happened to me. That’s on them, not me.

I have survived an incredible amount of shit. I don’t expect people to understand everything, but, as humans, we should have empathy toward others and see the strength and resiliency in others.

What happened to me was not my choice. It has no bearing on who I am.

Childhood trauma leaves a long trail of negative repercussions if not dealt with. It’s why you see such a large shift today in mental health to focus on children while they are children so they don’t need to go through life in a constant hyper-vigilant state of survival.

A recent four-hour conversation with a friend reaffirmed there are some people willing to listen and willing to stick by me regardless of how good or bad things are. It’s a shame others just see an opportunity to make a joke.

I am not defined by what happened to me. The only shame to be had is by those who cannot see this truth.

I understand there will always people who judge, who refuse to understand, who deny empathy, who believe all the blame should be on me. To them, I say, “Fuck you. You try to survive what I went through.”

I am better than I was before and I will be better than I am now. It will all take time.

After November 9, 2017, when I realized I needed help, something changed. It’s been for the better. It has changed who I am and where I want to go. Hopefully, some people want to follow that journey where ever it takes me.

Will I ever get back the desire to write about idiot politicians like Trump, Sasse, Smith, and Fischer who are more interested in their own aggrandizement than helping others? I don’t know.

What I do know is that this space will always be about what I’m passionate about. After all, the website has my name in it and it will always be a reflection of me.