As families plan to get together for Thanksgiving and remember the things they are thankful for, they also make plans for Christmas, which is a time to share memories, make new ones, and reflect on the year gone by.
Tag: mental health
I sometimes sit and think about the heat death of the universe. In 10100 years, or a googol, I won’t be here to see it, but I think about all that will be lost when that happens. All the evidence pointing toward our existence will be gone. Documents about what we tried to do here, our triumphs and tragedies will disappear. Whatever living things that are left will be gone. Our only possible salvation would be the existence of the multiverse. If the multiverse were real, we might have a chance to survive elsewhere. Yet, it is highly unlikely.
September through December are difficult times for me personally. The end of October and beginning of November are the worst. For thirty-four years, I’ve kept the demons at bay by ignoring them, but they are always close by, pushing for relevance in my life. One year ago, I began to confront them. One by one, they are having less relevance in my life and I am moving a little bit forward each day to find the better me.
Carter Canyon WMA.
The last two weeks have been incredibly difficult to get through. As with any trauma work, there will be good and bad times, progress and setbacks. This past week was one of the more difficult ones, but three friends stepped up to help keep me on track and to be that inner voice of rationality when my own inner voice could not. To them, I am eternally grateful.
As for where I go next, it has to be spending more time offline doing what I love (reading, writing, being in nature) and less online, even though I know that means losing touch with people.
Deep breath.
This is not an easy post for me to make or write, but there are some things people need to know. This past year has been a huge struggle, bigger than anyone will probably ever know.
A good friend of mine recently told me my shift in writing here has turned extremely personal. That is due, in part, to finally taking care of my mental health issues with a professional instead of doing it on my own.
By working on these issues, it has become harder to mask my inner turmoil. People at work ask if I’m okay. I’m not, but I am, and I will be. That’s the important part.
I was sitting in the staff break room at the Star-Herald trying to keep it together. I had just sat down to eat my lunch, but wasn’t being successful. I was shaking. My heart was racing.
Up until that point, my day was the kind where thoughts are fleeting, including ones that make you wonder what it would really be like to drive your car off the Scotts Bluff National Monument. When that thought came to the front of my brain, I picked up my phone and texted my friend, Amber.
“I can’t do this anymore,” I typed. Before she could reply, I sent a series of rapid fire messages to her. When she responded her texts were ones of concern, reassurance, and messages that she was there for me. We texted for several minutes before I told her I needed to go sit in my car. I was about to break down completely and didn’t want to do so at work.