The White Room

It wasn't very long ago when I was stuck in what I like to call the White Room. This white room doesn't have any windows, doors, or anyway out of it. It's just a four walled room. The ceiling, floor and walls white. Nothing of substantial color in there. Just how it's described, white. It's maddening. It can make anyone go absolutely insane. 

What is this white room you ask?

It's my metaphor for disassociation. It's a mechanism many with PTSD have when their brain feels threatened. Their brain goes within itself and you are stuck. You are alone in this room with what feels like no way out. It's not just "depression". Although one may go through it at the same time as depression, they are not quite the same. When you disassociate, you're more than stuck in your own mind. You've been taken hostage by a being that is meant to help you, instead it's destroying you. The world around you falls away, you can't pay any attention to the things going on around you because your mind isn't there. You're stuck till you are pulled out. 

Sometimes it can last a few hours up to even a few years! It takes a lot to pull someone out of this state, sometimes the person can do it on their own, sometimes people help the person, and sometimes the only solution to it is medication. There was a point where I was in one for 3 years! The only thing that helped me pull myself out of it was moving to another state. My most recent lasted several months. I'd sit there for hours staring at a wall, staring at my phone, losing myself in my own mind. There were days that I completely lost myself that I forgot to eat. It took new medication for me to pull out of it. 

How does it affect someone's life?

Other than losing yourself in your own mind, it can affect multiple areas. I'll share how it affected me because it is different for everyone. For me , I can't clean, cook, move sometimes, lack of concentration, exhausted and my depression gets worse. If my house is a mess, like you can't see the floor, I may be going through disassociation. I lose friends and people start to think I am just ignoring them even though I am really not. 

Why am I writing about this?

It needs more awareness. Many don't know what happens when you go through this or what disassociation is. In hopes of helping those who have no clue how to describe it, I decided that this would be my newest blog post. 

To those who go through this, feel free to add to or share your own experiences.

A Letter to My Loved Ones

Dear friends and family who have stuck by me,

I notice you. I notice when you help me, when you are there for me, when you support me through the rough times. I notice you when you drop what you’re doing to assist me with something. I notice you. I am so very thankful for all that you have done for me. It’s been difficult to accept what my body has done to me. It’s taken so much, but I am blessed it has not taken you away. You may not realize this, but those little texts, the hanging out when I am lonely, the random calls, and the offers to help clean, cook, etc. are much bigger than just favors- they are blessings. These little things make me feel wanted, special, and cared about. I have lost so many people from being so physically ill, but I have found who my true friends are. I can’t express how thankful I am for you guys being around. I have learned so much from this experience and without you guys, I wouldn’t have learned any of it.

So here’s me saying my deepest thank yous, here’s me saying that I love you guys. I love that you guys help me, I love that you guys weren’t angry when I started needing a wheelchair. You guys were there when I needed a shoulder to cry on and when I needed to make some of the biggest decisions of my life.

As a chronic illness patient, it’s hard to know who will stick by me thick and thin. You guys have helped me realize that there’ll always be someone there for me.

Love,

Your Loved One With Chronic Illnesses

When You Must Chose Between Pain and Freedom.

Making the rough decision to get a wheelchair

“Thank you Babe for getting this darn walker out of the car!” I tell my boyfriend as I unfold my walker in front of me. It was a warm, sunny Sunday afternoon and we had just left a long day at church but stopped off at the local store because I was out of food, I looked up and saw the long walk to the front of the store from my handicapped parking spot and sighed. When I got to the front of the store, I was already tired out and we still had to shop. So I hobble into the store with my boyfriend leading the way with the basket.

I suffer from Autoimmune Diseases that are taking a lot from me-- quickly. It has stolen so much from me and given me things in return that I really don’t want, like unimaginable and horrific pain, sleepless nights and days spent in bed.

I was able to go five minutes without pain. It came on quick and suddenly. My knees buckled, my breath was stolen from my body, my teeth clenched and my eyes watered. I bit my tongue and continued walking, I was determined to get the things I needed. I tried to hide the pain like I usually do from my boyfriend, I hate when he sees me in pain but the mask came off quickly and in a loving way, told me to sit and that he’d help me retrieve what I needed.

This is normalcy for my boyfriend and I. My walker doesn’t help me and the pain only stops when I sit. It’s hard on both of us and cuts our dates and fun times short. I don’t want to have my fun days stopped.

Later that night, I went home and thought about getting a wheelchair. I had been thinking of asking for a while now. I cried and asked myself why me? Getting a chair is scary, you have so many things you need to think of when you are looking to get one. Thoughts like: what if they stare? What if they call me names for not being paralyzed? What about the judgment? Then you have to contemplate whether they are going to think you are giving up, is it worth it? I asked myself the same questions over and over again.

I eventually realized that people’s opinions don’t matter and that if people want to stare, that’s their issue. If this will get me out and about, if this will give me some sort of sense of freedom, why not? The thing is, this sort of thinking grew and developed from society’s fear of those who are different. They hate on anyone they can’t understand. Society makes those like myself doubt themselves. Society tells me that because I am not paralyzed I do not need a wheelchair. Society, society, Society! It’s funny how society is usually the reason that many people become like myself: waiting till the last moment to get what they need.

Against what society wishes but in agreement with my family and friends, I decided to listen to my sister and boyfriend and I asked for a wheelchair. It was scary, nerve wracking and extremely hard to admit I need a chair now. My doctor was amazing and thought that I needed it as well.

As a society, we must change our thinking patterns. We must stop allowing passion to run our reason. We must teach ourselves and others the truth, and that is not everyone in a wheelchair is paralyzed and not all illnesses are visible.

(has been submitted to the Mighty for possible Publication)

Trials and Tribulations

I have learned that while trials and tribulations are hard things to over come, using them to teach and better the world is better than moping and thinking things will never be better.

Yes, sometimes our afflictions don't get better, but the way you perceive them can make a world of difference. Instead of staying in the thinking position where you're telling yourself 'why continue if it's only going to get worse?', ask yourself 'how can I use this experience to better the understanding of those around me? How can I help others with this experience?'. Don't let yourself be your own worse enemy, fight against the intrusive thoughts.

If we can remember that although these things happening to us probably royally suck, others may not realize that. If we use this to help those who don't realize how it truly does suck, if we use it to show the world that these stereotypes are not real, we can use a really sucky thing to better the world around us. 

I know that by doing this, it has bettered me as a person and has truly helped me see the smaller things in life as blessings. 

You are strong, you can do this.

When Two People Ruin It

I love my religion, my faith and religion have gotten me through so much. BUT with that being said, I am fearful of being myself. Our church teaches that LGBTQ are born the way we are. That trans people (this includes those who don't fit under the normal male and female) are gods creation and that we must not bully them, hate on them or anything of the sort. They were born this way. THIS is what they teach. With that being said, so many "GOOD" Mormons still refuse to listen to this. I've witnessed a transwoman be made fun of behind her back, (yes I tried to stop it). So I'm deathly afraid of being talked about behind my back. I don't fit the gender binary, I'm sorta down the middle, agender/genderfluid. I don't share this very often, in fear of someone attacking me. Don't get me wrong, the church is amazing and there's been much more accepting Mormons than not in my ward. 

I'll say this though, it took only 2 people out of 50 ward members to make me go inactive for a month and go back into the closet. The only thing that led me back to the church was the Holy Spirit. I'm happy I did, as I'd not have found the love of my life if I didn't. 

But I want to feel free to express myself without breaking my religions doctrine, is that too hard to ask? I don't want to feel like I'm going to be made fun of for being myself. 

A Midnight Rambling

It's 3:30 am currently and I'm sitting awake, in my nice big queen sized bed, cuddling my tiny, yet furocious service dog. As I usually do when I have insomnia, I lay there, scrolling through my Facebook app on my iPhone looking for ideas on what to write. Since I often talk about things that are major in society today, such as civil rights or how things have personally affected me, I decided to throw that aside in this post and talk about something different. 

First off, thank you to all of my amazing friends, followers, family and random people who have made this blog happen. Thank you to my amazing boyfriend who's been pushing me to continue my blogging and writing even when I feel like I'm dying. Thank you to my parents, who've been very supportive of me. I love you all and it means a great deal to me that you read my rants, stories, and feelings on basically everything and anything I can think of. When I think of giving up, I get reminded that there are you guys who want to see more of my useless jibber jabbering. Don't worry, I'm not leaving anytime soon. Sorry haters, you're not pushing me away! 

Secondly, I am very deeply saddened by the terrible loss of Gene Wilder. He was an amazing man with a good heart. Although widely know for being Willy Wonka, I best liked him in Blazing Saddles and Young Frankenstein. I'm a Mel Brooks kind of... Druid (yes I think I'm very clever) and always loved Gene's humor that he displayed in Brooks' films. His wittiness, high energy, sometimes really offending, characters always made me forget about the drama and hate-filled world I reside in daily. Now when I see Waco-Kid and Frankenstein, I cry. I cry not only because we lost a wonderful, kind hearted man to a horrible disease that takes everything but because I lost another coping mechanism. I hate seeing the actors who made me laugh pass on. The laughter and joy that once came with these films, are overwhelmed by tears and sadness. At some point, those tears will become laughter again but until they do I will continue to watch his smiling face and cry. 

Gene we know you're in a better place, say hi to Alan and David for me? 

Thirdly, and lastly, I would like to ask my viewers a question: 

What would YOU like to see me writing on my blog? What would you like to see more of? Less of?? What advice do you have for me? 

Please feel free to comment on the blog directly here, on my Facebook page or email me. It would mean a lot to get input. 

Thanks guys!! 

Rest in peace the Waco-Kid. </3

How A Simple Book and Character Saved Me (T/W Suicide)

In my childhood, there were a few characters from books that helped me not only find myself but accept myself for who I am-Autistic and quirky! One of them was Luna Lovegood from the Harry Potter Series by JK Rowling.

 As a child who was often the outcast and the target of many bullies due to being "different", I identified with Luna. I loved that she accepted who she was and that, no matter what the bullies would do or say, she'd keep her chin up and use it to teach others or as a learning experience for herself. She never looked down on herself for being quirky and different. I loved that about her because, unlike myself, I couldn't get over being different, I wanted so desperately to be "normal".

The thing is, instead of being viewed as quirky, I was viewed as the weird child in school throughout my life and Luna embodied what I wanted so desperately to be. I felt like she was my best friend (I knew she was only a fictional character) but I felt like I understood her so much that I knew her personally. I would read and read and would tell myself that one day, just maybe, I would accept who I am and become like Luna.

Being Autistic, is just being myself. I am now 23 and have just barely grasped that, I was and still am very much like Luna with my characteristics. The only difference? I have now accepted myself. Thanks to the help of the Harry Potter Gane, I got through one of my deepest bouts of depression that I has as a child (as I also have PTSD).
 I remember one day after school, after being bullied so much I just felt I had nothing to continue living for, I came home to a package on my bed. This heavy, bulky package. addressed to a Lady Arianna Nyswonger, from my favorite, loving, biggest Harry Potter Fan Uncle, was the seventh and final Harry Potter book. Through a stream of unending tears I opened that package,and grabbed the book. I stroked its binding and I remember telling myself, 'I can get through this, I know I can. Just one more year and I am done. Just like Harry and the gang and Luna, one more year.' It was my senior year and I was having a very rough time with it. I immediately opened the book and started reading, losing myself in its white pages and the gifted words of a fantastic storyteller. I soon forgot why I was so upset and the thought of "giving up" and just "ending myself" were completely lost within the typed out words. Harry and his story helped me, but Luna the help me the most. Anytime she'd show up in the book, I would get excited- it was someone who I could finally relate to. Luna was me!

Everyday, after school, I'd pick up the book and read. Through tears, I'd battle my own demons just through reading this book. Harry defeating Voldemort was me, defeating the person inside telling me to quit. It was me, defeating he bullies who constantly brought me down. It was me defeating myself, the part of my wanting to quit and die.

Hogwarts was my home during my childhood. I have been there since the beginning, and it's been there for me. It's helped me through my deepest, darkest times when I thought there was no hope. It gave me someone who I could relate to. It helped me accept me. And for that, I can never repay JK Rowling for. She gave me a safety zone, somewhere in my mind I could go to get away. She wrote a character that told me that people would accept me if I just would be me, that the haters can hate but they can't change you. She wrote a character that helped me become who I am today, a writer, an activist, a blogger and most importantly--- myself.