An Honest Account: Recovery is a Spectrum.

Recovery is a spectrum. I don’t think you can put a time frame on gluing pieces of a broken soul back together. Our minds are wondrous and bafflingly strong. Hence, when one turns against itself and slowly self destructs, it takes it’s toll. Those who find themselves lost in the depths of mental illness are beatiful and strong. And still recovering. 

Nearly five years have come and gone and I’m still not sure where on the spectrum I land. Some days I’m on top of the world. Most days, however, I’m simply nowhere at all; a world of grey and uncertainty. 

That’s the world I spend a lot of time on. I don’t mean that despairingly -I do a little bit, I suppose- but it can be difficult. I would compare it to having lost enough little bits of my heart to where I am unable to feel as I am myself completely. I simply could not just go back to the irrevocably optimist I once was. My bright eyes were simply darkened a bit and I could not change that. 

Living like that emptied my soul of nearly every ounce of motivation. In truth I wake up each day feeling, at most, a little bit more motivated than not. 

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean to paint it like I’ve given up and lost all hope on full recovery. That’s something I will not do again. I just want to be as open as possible in this account. 

This state of mind has caused me to be more distant and hesitant to unveil my feelings. Its caused me to step away from everything I was before and reexamine every detail. Determine what I want to continue carrying and what I need to cut loose to allow myself to move on. It is no small process and one I have barely scratched the surface of. 

I am the same person at my core. I am me. I am a ditsy goofball with a desire to bring others happiness and hope. That could never be taken out of the equation. That is why I am writing. I do not think that recovery is an unreachable place. I believe incredible things can happen and healing can happen unexpectedly. That is why I believe it to be a spectrum. Each human mind and heart is unique and complex. 

Sometimes all you need is a step in the right direction. I feel that step on my horizon. I know it’s something I must do by my own choosing. I feel the smoking embers of a motivation I haven’t felt in what seems like a lifetime. 

Regardless of if my spectrum brightens up again and I find myself completely whole, or not, I will carry on. I will share whatever amount of hope and happiness I have that day with others. I feel that is the case for many who have dealt with the kind of darkness depression and anxiety can throw you into. 

And to all of you who can relate, I believe in you. Wherever you are on the spectrum, you are beautiful and never alone. It’s ok to have shitty days. It’s ok to have an amazing day after that, as insanely confusing as that is. 

And to those close friends and family who know we have crazy minds and support and stick by us, you are amazing and we need you. Thank you for sticking by. Continue being the lifesavers you are, despite our sometimes wishy-washy days. 

Keep fighting on. Much love. :)’ 


A Wanderer’s Journal. 

‘The line between myself and the dreary, rain-soaked road became smaller each morning; until finally I found myself knee deep in sludge. My steps turned into a heavy, sloppy rhythm. Each night I sat by the fire and wondered if the road would dry by tomorrow’s noon. Sadly, I was always met by the same rainy morning. 

“Sludge again, eh?” I would ask the morning light. The silence after that question always seemed to have a smirk about it, as if to laugh at my misfortune.

I did not hate the road for turning soft, nor the rain for causing it to be so. I often thought of cursing the sun for hiding.

– An act I did frequently in the earlier days.-

However, I find I lack the energy for that now, with all the trudging along the same muddy path for a few years and all. 

No one seems to know when this blessed road ends. I hardly have any idea myself. I grow weary of it. Won’t stop me though. I’ll still greet the morning with a smile. 

– Smile probably meaning a jolly grunt of “oh good. Rain again.” –

I meet few travelers like myself. Occasionally, I find another soul, trudging along, same as me. It warms both our hearts while we walk along for a little while. Eventually we part ways, silently acknowledging that our journey’s lead us down secluded roads; much like this one. And much like this one, I sometimes find the peace and beauty in my rainy morning. 

So. Cheers. To another “sludge again, eh?” day.’

Fleeting Fragments. 

‘There comes a point when you run out of words to express it. It just exists. It simply is. Only you are truly aware of its’ reality. Others can speculate, but rarely do more than scratch the surface. They don’t know the heart of it. You lose the words that once brought it to light. 

Even in little excerpts like this one…the sense it makes is fragmented. You understand it. You feel it. You think it, yet your own mind has betrayed you; building the only wall standing between you and the world. 

You must become whole again.

That is your determination. Only then can you bring it to light. Only then can you avenge the brokenness inside. It drives you, but a part of you knows you’re only pushing yourself further off the edge. That’s where this thinking leads you. Lost me yet? I’m treading into territory behind the wall. 

Some of us are broken. Some of our souls are looking for another soul that knows our heart. Just one. Day after day of feeling that there are none left. Surrounded by beautiful hearts, but none left who understand. 

This is the fragmented journey you have found yourself on, no? 

I guess there are still those who understand, then.’ 


The Story is Set. 

‘I cannot just throw my voice into the chaos of shrill ringing, like-minded noise. I see a world around me, drowning in the thoughts and feelings of everyone. No one reserves their true emotions; none hold back their beliefs. In ways this is good. It is equally bothersome.

 I have this dream. I burn for this. I am consumed by the idea of my own being bringing something of value into the darkness. I cannot, however, just throw my self into the middle of chaos at the rise of every sun; repetitively writing my heart into the rut of white noise. I will not. Not for fear or doubt that a single voice can bring change. The words have to be precise. They need to come from so deep inside, the fires of hell would stop in their wake. 

I care. I care so intensely. There is yet to be a cause, or a dream I resonate with more. No religion, group, or organization has captured my heart in the same way. I will find a way to express the words. One day. I give too much a damn not to.

My pen will find the hearts of those consumed by this. Until that day, I will continue to process my darkness so that those who find themselves lost in this hellish pit, can realize they are never alone.’

From The Heart of My Idealist Hideaway… 

“Now I’m not saying that we’ve all got to agree. God might be something to you, and something different to me. But every time I turn on the news I see, somebody telling us we’re stupid if we choose to believe. It’s tearing us apart. We’re all the same. Every single one of us.Black, white, gay, straight. None of us above the other. God is love. Love is all we need and we can figure out the rest if we find something to believe in.” -Safetysuit – Numbers or Faith.

This song resonated with me and how I’ve been feeling about the current state of affairs with the American government and with humanity in general. So if you’ll allow me to leave my introvert shell for a hot second; my feelings… 

Humans are creating a track record where we only belittle those who differ from us; where we spout poll numbers and laugh if you’re on the opposing side. We’re just closing our minds further and leaving our hearts behind. The news is filled with it. Social media is the perfect platform to violently disagree with dumb people who believe in something unusual to you. Our lives are flooded with agendas that don’t get anything done other than saying other agendas are bullshit. 

I don’t claim to have answers but if there’s anything our current events and presidential “candidates” have brought to light, it’s that our strategy isn’t working. I don’t care if you believe in my God. I don’t care what God you believe in, or if you think all we return to in death is the worthless dust we were born from. As long as you believe in love and something bigger than what our hurtful attitudes are doing to ourselves and the other humans we come in contact with.

Be better humanity. If Christians are wrong(myself included), cool. Let them be wrong as long as they’re actually living out what they claim to live for. Love. If republicans, or democrats, or atheists, or friends, or enemies, or just the regular assholes are absurd enough to disagree with you, but do so lovingly. They deserve the same. Even if they’re the type to disagree aggressively, step up and let them feel right or whatever it is they need. Love them. Open your mind. Listen to different perspectives without needing to defend your own. Don’t force your own agenda on every pour soul who unknowingly lets you speak freely. In the name of all us idealistic introverts, let’s be better. 

Thanks for listening. Heading back to my hideaway now. 🙂 

The Dormant Bookcase.

“Wandering near the top of the hills, he looked out over the city. It still slept as the morning dawn was slowly lifting the sky. Breathing in the cool air, he started to realize something. He still felt the presence of the young boy who was ready to bring the sun to it’s knees. Deep underneath the layers of fear; behind the walls of self-doubt years in the making. There still lied a pair of eyes set in deep blue, filled with adventure. Bent on not only seeing the world, but changing it. 

He pictured this dormant boy as a bookcase, filled with dreams & pages untouched by fear. Dust had collected on some of the shelves, true, but the books remained whole. Sometimes, on a particularly pleasant day, some of those dusty books would crack open their worn pages, sending small clouds of dust into the motionless air. He would start to feel a burning motivation; a driving desire to give it his all. Dreams forgotten, flooding his mind again. 

Few moments made him feel quite this alive, save those filled with fear, or love. He smiled warmly and inhaled deeply, savoring the moment. As he let out his breath, he prayed the dormant boy would stay. Eventually, it would.

Never having left, the young boy’s heart had not abandoned him. It had simply grown older. More worn by the weight of the pain it had endured. More guarded from the hurts gathered from the passing of years. As the young man gazed briefly into the dusty books…their pages prayed he would stay. Just a bit longer than last time.”


Practice Makes Progress.

‘It seems that some of our souls are bound to tarry on the edge, struggling awhile longer than other souls around them. It makes them stronger and wiser. I believe that in my heart. It allows them to relate to the deep darkness seeded within the souls too far gone to remember that there was any light to begin with.

It also appears to sometimes set a great weariness on their already burdened hearts. You see, it’s a wholly beautiful thing to help another heart through their darkness to see the hope again; all because you’ve wrestled with that demon. It’s a cold, dark, and damning thing to start the cycle over again and again and again and again. Hearing the voices inside screaming “It’s hopeless, it’s over, it’s over, it’s over again.”

That is the line many of the souls before me walk. It is a line I am still walking. A balance of helping others heal till we’re broken again; of fighting again and again till it’s over. I imagine much like walking a tight rope high above over an abyss, the fear of falling tends to be a motivator to stay on, if only just barely.

I have ceased pushing perfection on myself and those around me walking that wire. We are all in it together, they and I. Each heart faces demons daily and tries its earnest to face them head on. For if in unity we can each share the burden and help keep hope alive, I will not break that striving for a perfection I have never achieved myself. If someone has one more ounce of hope than a week ago; if they have lasted one second longer in the fight against their demon than last time, well there is cause for joy and encouragement.

There isn’t a soul to cross my path that hasn’t been a little bit broken. Therefore I will choose transparency and be broken right alongside them, that we may strengthen each other and inspire hope where there was once none.’


…Of Hands and the Cards Dealt Them.

‘I stand on the edge of a new discovery, barely able to stand the excitement. I spent five years in a state of discontentment and a false hope that I was owed something; that my life couldn’t be fully what it was meant to be unless I was freed from my illness. A rather naive notion, if I’m honest with myself.

Now here, on the cusp of a new adventure, I’ve realized that all along, it wasn’t the absence of my disease that I longed for, but the presence of hope amidst it. Finally finding closure in a hand of cards I never asked to be dealt. That was more freeing than a magic snap of the fingers. Escape was no longer my agenda. Every second spent looking for a way out, could now be used looking at all the ways my life has become beautiful.

After all, who among us here is completely void of their inner demons? The world around us has been filled with chaos and hardship. That is a fact we cannot change at this hour. Waiting for it to disappear until we feel freedom and joy and hope, is as powerless as it gets. Waiting for a scenario we feel is owed us before making a difference for ourselves and others. For amidst the chaos, we are surrounded with beauty. It takes an effort to see it sometimes and others may need help finding it once we have.

This is the place I have found my heart, and never has it been happier; more content. I will no longer spend energy on an outcome I have yet to see. Not because it is unlikely, or I don’t believe in it. Rather, I have much to learn, a world of other hearts needing to feel hope again, and a heart full of love I need to be alive enough to give. The time for feeling defeated about my sorry hand of cards is over. After all, the cards I’ve been dealt are a winning hand waiting to be revealed during the right game.’

Iced Interrogations. 

‘I wrapped my heart up and puffed air into my lungs to keep it warm. The normalcy of this process had made it more understandable, but nonetheless trying. 

Each time their icy tendrils came to draw the life out of me, I had to decide to keep going and adapt accordingly. They never came the exact same way twice, scouring every inch of my heart, mind, and soul for weakness. I learned more about myself through each of their interrogations. New strengths. New beliefs. How little I actually believed in some things. 

The process, though painful, I must admit strengthened me. I went through it far more times than I would’ve liked, but so did we all. To this day, I can still sense the cold, icy presence of their questions…and to this day I find I’m faced with a slightly different heart than before. 

Beneath The Armor. 

‘It was that day I discovered that what had always made me who I am still made me…me. 

Strip everything away; the gold, the glitter, the polished armor, and I find underneath it all still lies someone who matters. Someone with real feelings, dreams of grandeur, and love. 

Someone who listens to too much music because it makes them feel alive. Someone who likes the way the hair in their eyes feels because it’s another layer to pass before their inner thoughts can be gazed at from the outside. 

I find someone who gets lost in between the words of awe-inspired wonder written across the pages of endless books. 

I find this someone has immense worth. They have a heart filled with beauty and hope. I find that while forces have been working to slowly kill this wonderful individual, they have survived; fighting on day after day. I find that the strength I’d been searching for was not in the armor I put on every day. No. 

The strength was in the heart of the one who had been hidden beneath the armor.’