What did life chose for you?

We all like to think that every single thing about ourselves could be a choice. Doesn’t it make you feel a little helpless to realize that some things, no matter how much that we try to say otherwise, are just not our choice?

Is cancer a choice?

Is being born with a birth defect a choice? Yes I understand that a number of those come from a choice of a parent, some are also NOT.  Some are genetic. Some are just a rare thing that happens for unknown reasons.

Is naturally having red hair a choice?

Dyslexia?

Thyroid disease?

Brain disorders?

So how can we accept those to be problems that we are born with, but depression is something that we must have chosen? When did mental illness become so shameful?

Why has it ever been frowned upon like it was a choice? I guess I don’t understand the reasons that it was ever looked at like it was not just another disease that you need to fight with regular medication and therapy, just as one would need to do with diabetes or a medical disorder that affects the muscular system.

Who gets to make these decisions? Who gets to decide who is better than who because of the way that their genetics made them?  Who gets to decide who lives their lives in hiding and who gets to be loud and proud of the lifestyle their DNA setup for them? What about the judgmental people who later in life has life events that change circumstances? Like a woman dealing with postpartum, or a man trying to deal the loss of his parent. Now is it suddenly acceptable?

Were you chosen to be the lucky one who lives their whole childhood healthy, watching others have asthma attacks or seizures? Did you ever have to go back and ask your parent what childhood diabetes meant and why some people needed to check their blood sugars?

Only to grow older and get told that you have cancer and will have to fight for your life while they inject more and more poisons into your body to fight the poison that is already there?

I hope for you judgmental folks to have healthy babies who have healthy babies. I hope for all of you that life doesn’t sneak up on you and teach you the reality of most people in the world. I hope that you never have to be proven wrong.

However I know you will be.

Because that’s what life is all about.

Being born into a life where most of our health conditions are not a choice.

Here is to hoping that the health conditions that life choses for you is on the “ACCEPTABLE” list.

I was chosen to be a Suicide Survivor

November 18 is National Suicide Survivor Day.

I never even knew that. I walked in a Suicide Awareness walk recently and I spent the majority of the time being quite alarmed at how many people just in my area had been directly affected by the loss of a loved one or friend.

This is one of those events that unless you go through it, you can not really explain it well. Everybody says that about everything don’t they? It is true. It’s this strange out-of-body experience that is simply unexplainable.

I was 16. He was my first love. At 16 you are more innocent than you are ever willing to admit. You don’t have a grasp on how long life really can be. You have no ability to realize that things will change. You don’t realize that the pain goes away. You don’t realize how a change in scenery can make everything different.

A mother lost her firstborn. A father lost who he thought would be the leader of the pact. A grandmother lost her grandson. Siblings lost a brother. I lost a best friend. A boyfriend. My first love. And it changes us all. Rocked our world into being unrecognizable.

It has been 15 years and while it has changed, has been ignored and seemingly has been forgotten by everyone around me, I still remember. I still cry for the soul that was lost. I still miss who he could have been. I miss what my life could have been. I have spent more time imagining the what if’s then I was ever able to actually spend with him.

I have no idea who he would be today. I have no idea if our love would have survived. I have no idea if we even would have kept in touch.

I will never have the ability to know.

I have read thousands of people’s stories online. I have volunteered at suicide hotlines. I have answered phone calls at 2 in the morning and run out just to be the shoulder that someone needed at that moment. I have made it known to anybody  who has access to my social media that I am ALWAYS available when you think you are alone. My number is always there for you to call.

It isn’t enough I feel. I can’t bring him back.

And so here I was, standing in a crowd of people who all have their own stories. And I was moved to tears to see how COMMON this problem has become. How in the hell has this become SO NORMAL??

Suicide is the 10th leading cause of death in the United States in 2017. 

Each year 44,193 AMERICANS die by suicide.

Suicide costs the United stated $51 Billion annually. 

Men die of suicide 3.5 times more than women. 

The average age of suicide victims? MIDDLE AGED WHITE MEN

Never Stop trying to help. Keep your eyes and hearts open. Mental illness is not a CHOICE. It should not be a stigma. It should not have to be hidden. It should not be something that they have to be ashamed of.

It starts and ends with your choices

When I was little, I would always notice that there seemed to be two types of people. 

The first type seemed to consist of people who were always too careful, too worried about other people’s opinions. They did what other people wanted, wore cloths to look like the peeple around them, and tried there best to “Just Fit In”. 

The second type tends to be more rambunctious. They are louder,  they laugh a lot and they seemed to flutter around and talk to everyone. 

Neither group seemed to be very deep into these conversations that they were having. Neither group seemed to really be listening to people, they kept it more superficial but I didn’t understand why. 

I never seemed to fit into those types of groups, and spent a long time thinking something was wrong with me because of that.

But I was wrong. 

For years I stayed around people I didn’t like, because I felt like it made me fit in better. I watched how much I voiced my opinions, because not everyone agreed with me and I am not always up for what feels like a violent debate on my opinion. People are asshole and they don’t like you to feel different then you, so they ram their opinions down your throat instead. 

For too long I worried about people’s feelings, when they blatantly did not care about mine. I stepped up to bat for them over and over again just to have them tear me to shreds when talking about me to others. I would even have the audacity to be HURT when words they said got back to me. 

For too many years I spoke negatively. I used my words to explain the wrongs around me, and not as much about the good things that were surrounding me. I can say that I did this because that’s seems to be the society norm (which it is) but that would be lying. I made a choice. 

It’s time for this all to change. You don’t get to have power over me society. I do. 

It’s time to make the choices that benefit my family and myself. I have neglected myself for far too long to be caught up in societies bullshit anymore. 

Some days I miss you

I am a suicide loss survivor. 

That sentence still gets me. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been. It is a stark sentence that immediately joins you into a society you want no part of.  

The look of shock and pity that used to come my way has faded since I stopped telling people. 

I am not ashamed. As the years continue to go by, life changes. You aren’t forced to explain where someone’s dad is, or having to explain where a missing family member may be. 

Instead it was my high school best friend. My first love. My first person of the opposite sex that I connected so well with, it was like it was meant to be. 

And then it was gone. 

And I was left to pick up the pieces and rebuild. 

Most days I’m fine. It’s been a long time. I have an amazing husband and family, new best friends and old memories that I’m left to question and doubt. 

But some days I miss you. 

Moment in time

Some days I hear a song, and I am immediately thrown back in time. 

Some days, I’m going about my daily life, and I catch a scent, and I instantly have tears in my eyes. 

Some days, I see someone from youre family, and I feel my heart skip a few beats, fighting the emotions. 

Some days, I come across a picture and I realize I forgot what your face looks like.

 I can’t remember your voice anymore. 

I don’t remember what your hugs feel like anymore. 

I don’t remember if you loved me or not.