Diving Headfirst into Self-Help

One of the discussions that surrounds mental health is whether it is caused by genetics or environmental factors. The classic “nature vs. nurture” debate. 

There are studies and evidence that support both theories, and then the question focuses around which came first: the genetic disposition for mental illness, or environmental factors that brought them to the forefront. In essence, it’s like asking if the chicken or the egg came first.

Understanding mental illness is important when it comes to dealing with it. The reason science wants to determine if nature or nurture is responsible for the issue is so that it can look for ways to prevent it. But looking at it from that perspective misses the point. In many cases, mental illness has already presented itself in a person. At that point, finding a way to heal is essential.

I know from experience that my mental illnesses come from both nature and nurture. My maternal grandmother took anti-anxiety and antidepressant medication for practically her whole life. My dad has been impacted by anxiety and panic. When necessary, he would take Xanax. 

I was “lucky” enough to be “blessed” with both of these ailments. For as long as I can remember, even in my early teens, I was prone to bouts of depression. Looking back as an adult, I can also pinpoint moments of anxiety. I didn’t know what they were at the time, but I can see the signs now.

Alcoholism is also something that runs through my family. I had the pleasure of falling down that rabbit hole in my late teens and early 20s. Mainly, it became a coping device for my depression and anxiety; a way to combat the cold, hollowness that often presented in the center of my chest and touched me to my soul.

In addition to the genetic disposition of mental illness, environmental factors would influence how I felt. Now, I know that these moments are called “triggers.” At the time, I just knew that the people around me were making me feel like shit.

Not Knowing What I Was Dealing With

The thing that made all of these mental issues more challenging was the fact that we didn’t talk about them in my family. Grandma may have been taking medication daily to ensure she remained even, but I didn’t know this until later in life. When my mom was little, it was always referred to as her “nerve pill.” 

When I still lived at home, my family and I took a trip to Iowa every summer to visit family. Apparently, my dad had a map with all of the hospitals on the route marked -- just in case he had a medical emergency. That would have been his anxiety. My mom didn’t even know about that map until a couple of years ago when my anxiety was taking over my life and he shared that tidbit of information with me.

Mental illness carries a lot of stigma around it. People don’t always like to share that they are suffering because they may be ridiculed, shunned, or dismissed. Or potentially all three and then some other horrible things. Instead, they suffer in silence.

Unfortunately, this isn’t helpful. It’s also how generational trauma gets passed down. Ignoring the situation doesn’t make it go away. Not talking about the issues makes the child feel like what they are experiencing is abnormal, so they hide it away for fear of being different. That’s how I felt.

The Impacts of Mental Health Issues

As you can imagine, this did not lend itself to healthy coping practices. I didn’t have the vocabulary, let alone any type of knowledge, to understand what I was going through. Since many of these issues were secret shames of the family, I felt like I needed to hide how I was feeling.

Not only did I fall spectacularly into unhealthy coping mechanisms, but I also developed terrible life habits and patterns as well. Since the adults in my life didn’t talk about the hard subjects, including recognizing toxicity in myself and other people, I often fell victim to manipulative people. My “first abuser” walked into my life when I was in kindergarten. There was a steady string of them through my life from then on.

Of course, I can recognize these patterns and issues now because I’ve done the work. 

I dove headfirst into self-help and discovered vocabulary to define and explain the things I’ve been feeling throughout my entire life. It took a long time to get there. And I came into the self-help practice thinking that there was something wrong with me; that I was broken and needed to be fixed. I believed that I was the reason that the relationships around me kept crumbling and falling apart.

Don’t get me wrong: I did play a role in the outcomes of my relationships, but I wasn’t always to blame. Just because I didn’t recognize the traits/red flags of a narcissist did not mean I deserved the abuse I was put through. Just because I may have had codependency or people-pleasing issues, that didn’t mean I deserved to be taken advantage of, used, and then abandoned like I didn’t matter.

We all make decisions in life. 

We get to decide on a moment to moment basis how we are going to act toward the people around us.

The individuals I most often surrounded myself with made a conscious decision to treat me like trash. That was their choice. If I wasn’t the subject of their bad behavior, someone else would have been. The only reason I tolerated it for so long was because I didn’t know better. I thought the way I was being treated was normal.

It took me a long time to get to that realization. And before I could get there, I had to understand what was going on with me. That’s when reading self-help books became beneficial.

Knowledge Gained

More often than not, I would learn about a certain personality trait, behavior disorder, or mental illness through reading. I found out about my depression in college, which was the first time I took a depression inventory. 

My anxiety came to light in adult life, after the first time I had a panic attack. I was in therapy at the time, and I explained to my therapist what had happened, and that’s when we went through the signs and symptoms and I was diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder (GAD).

Having this information was both beneficial and detrimental. I at least had a name to put to how I was feeling, but I chalked it up to nature (my genes), so I assumed I was stuck with feeling like shit for the rest of my life. It wasn’t until my anxiety and depression got worse that I discovered that environmental factors could impact their onset and severity.

I learned about codependency and people pleasing. I became curious about what these issues entailed. Part of me also thought that if I fixed these things about myself, it would fix my relationship with others. 

Part of that thought process was true.

Truth be told, neither codependency or people-pleasing are good traits to possess. In essence, they are survival mechanisms. They are ways to deal with horrible situations to ensure you get the attention and support you need to live in the world. 

More often than not, they develop in childhood as a way to appeal to parents or other caregivers to ensure you are taken care of. They are a learned trait that ensures you don’t die. You bring these behaviors with you into adulthood because they were reinforced and worked for you at a young age. 

Unfortunately, they don’t often serve you once you become an adult.

From learning about codependency and people-pleasing, I also discovered other issues such as complex PTSD, disassociation, trauma, abandonment wounds, and so many others. Not everything I found applied to me, but a lot did. And it felt wonderful to finally understand what was going on in my brain -- the physical and emotional side of it.

But it was also really hard. 

Learning that I was a people-pleaser or codependent hit me hard. 

I had always taken pride in my independence. To find out I wasn’t actually being independent but changing my personality based on who I was around and the situation I was in forced me to see that I had no idea who I truly was. I was so concerned with making sure other people liked me, I gave up my identity and tried to become what I thought they wanted me to be. I had no true self.

Learning this helped explain why I was prone to depression and anxiety. It’s a lot of work changing yourself to meet the needs and expectations of those around you, and it can be incredibly contradictory. Since I had to lose my true self in the process, I was left confused and lost. 

I couldn’t relate to myself any more. 

I often felt disconnected from my mind and body (disassociation). This caused me to lose touch with my feelings, making me feel numb. Or like I had a hole in my soul. 

The coping mechanisms I employed couldn’t be sustained for long. I did what I could for years, but it became apparent that they would eventually kill me. At this point, I had kids to think about. They became my focus and reason for living.

Finding Myself the Hard Way

While this is grand and noble and helped me get my shit together, it wasn’t all that I needed. 

I was still disconnected from myself and needed validation and approval from the people around me. 

That’s why I tried so hard to get my then-husband to love me. That’s why it cut me to the core when friends or family members decided they no longer liked me. 

From my self-help books, I learned that they were tearing open my abandonment wound and pouring salt into it.

Again, the fear of abandonment was something that developed early in childhood. It was actually what drove me to develop codependency and people-pleasing traits. 

As a child, I needed adults around to provide me with the basics, including food and shelter. I don’t remember when or how I realized that they may not be there for me (most abandonment fears form before 18 months, which is before I had developed memory), I had to look for ways to be pleasant to be around. How I achieved this as a baby, I have no idea. But I know what I did as a young child well into adulthood.

I did what I had to to survive. Since changing who I fundamentally was and ensuring the comfort of others around me worked as a kid to get (most) of my needs met, I assumed that was how life worked. I didn’t realize there were other options available to me. I didn’t know that asking for what I needed was something I could do. I settled for way less than I deserved because I was mostly getting what I wanted/needed. I had no idea more was needed to live a healthy, happy life.

I only learned these things by having some basic knowledge about mental illness and how it impacted me. I’m also an incredibly curious person that likes to learn as much as I can about the world. I’m endlessly fascinated in the human psyche and all that can go wrong -- which probably explains my obsession with serial killers.

But I was also looking for a way to make life better for those around me because I thought something was wrong with me.

The end result of my self-help journey was gaining the knowledge to grow as a person, but I didn’t come into the practice with my wellbeing at the forefront of my mind. I was still putting other people first.

The Journey Takes a Toll

The journey hasn’t been easy. It’s actually really hard to admit to myself that nature AND nurture played a role in my mental illness -- and I was my greatest enemy. 

I did a lot of damage to myself by allowing certain things to happen and not knowing myself. Learning about the toxic traits that exist within yourself isn’t exactly a moment of pride, either. Having to find out that most of my life was ruled by terrible, horrible people was shocking and depressing as well.

There’s this idea that finding yourself is an incredibly magical moment. 

The accepted imagery is that you’re on a mountaintop and the lights of heaven are shining down upon you. There may be tears, but there’s also joy and salvation. Renewal and rebirth.

The reality of self-discovery is actually quite different. 

It happens once you’ve reached rock bottom. When you find yourself in the gutter covered in filth and guilt and shame. You have nothing else to lose. You're left with only two choices: find a way up or keep living your miserable life.

I chose to pull myself up, but it hasn’t been easy. 

There are days when I slide back down and once again get covered with shame and guilt. I fall back into old patterns of people-pleasing or refuse to deal with a situation. Anxiety tingles at the edge of my existence, and thoughts of shutting down take over my mind. I cry. I rage. I throw my hands into the air and say, “Fuck it!”

But then, I realize how far I’ve come.

Yes, the journey has been hard.

Yes, I have learned unpleasant, terrible things about myself.

Yes, I have done some toxic things.

Yes, I dealt with my emotions (or lack thereof) in unhealthy ways.

I’ve hurt people.

I’ve hurt myself.

But then I look at all the things I’ve accomplished.

As of the writing of this, I’ve been sober for 14 years.

I can recognize the situations and triggers that impact my anxiety and find healthy ways to deal. Occasionally, I may still fall into panic, but the dread of attacks doesn’t impact my life as much as it used to.

I recognize the signs and symptoms of anxiety and tough feelings in my boys, and we talk about what they’re feeling. I give them ways to ground themselves and the vocabulary to put what they’re going through into words.

I’m learning to create boundaries so that manipulative people don’t get as much access to me and can’t drag me into their bleak existence.

I do what I can to validate myself and not rely on others to give my life meaning.

I’m learning that it’s okay to not be perfect and to feel all of my feelings.

Mental Illness Doesn’t Go Away

I am still plagued with mental illness, and there are occasions when I slip back into depression. That’s part of who I am, and it’s not anything I will be “cured” from. Same with anxiety. I am genetically wired to freak out at random times. I’m learning to be okay with this. I’m also learning how to keep environmental factors from spinning me out of control.

The discussion about nature vs nurture when it comes to mental illness will continue, but it’s not the most beneficial debate to have. 

The most important thing to realize is that these issues exist and they have serious impacts on a person’s life. That doesn’t make anyone unworthy or broken. All it means is that they have challenges to overcome. 

Nature and nurture have an impact, but it doesn’t have to be detrimental. It sucks diving deep into the core of your being, and there’s a lot more pain that comes with the process than you can imagine. You’ll probably find yourself plunged into darkness like you’ve never experienced. But you don’t have to stay there. There’s a light at the end of the tunnel. There’s freedom as well.

Self-help isn’t a one-and-done type of journey. You don’t read one book and find yourself cured. 

It’s a never-ending process. 

It’s something you do for the rest of your life. 

This may seem daunting and scary, but it becomes less so the more you learn about yourself. 

Through the process, I’ve discovered some absolutely amazing things about myself, and I’ve changed the dialogue around mental illness for my boys. They won’t have to suffer like I did or flounder in ignorance. 

I have empowered myself through self-discovery, and I hope to pass those tools on to the next generation. Even if my kids suffer from mental illness, I hope they know they don’t have to go it alone and there are resources and tools that can help.

Nature. Nurture. Who cares? The most important thing is to recognize that there’s an issue and find a way to take care of it.

Searching for Myself

It sounds incredibly noble that I have dedicated my life to my boys, but right after the divorce and to this day, it’s been a struggle -- but not because of the boys. They are amazing, normal kids who live their lives as best as possible. The problem is that there are two of them and one of me. It’s also incredibly exhausting trying to be everything to everyone.

I have many a day where getting out of bed is a struggle. I think about all the things I have to do -- work, get the kids to school and events, make sure they are fed, listen to them play (rage at) video games -- and I want to throw the covers over my head and roll over. 

I may be a full-time mom, but I have my moments where I lament not being free to do what I want. When those thoughts cross my mind, I feel incredibly guilty and shameful. After all, if it weren’t for me, who would raise the kids?

My ex isn’t a hands-on type of dad. Since the kids were little, he’s made it clear that raising them was my job, even going so far as to make comments that he “doesn’t do babies.” If you saw him in public, you would probably think that he should win a Father of the Year Award. He’d seem incredibly dedicated and attuned to the boys’ needs. He would engage with them in a playful manner and smiles would be seen all around.

But those moments can be -- and often are -- faked.

There are days when I struggle with how my ex treats the boys. There is a sense that he can provide them with lavish gifts such as vacations and fun, while my job is to actually raise them. 

Since I have them during the week, there isn’t a lot of fun to be had. It’s all business, with homework during the school year and practices during the summer. The dynamics are different. Way too often I feel like Serious Mom, when I want to have moments of being Fun Mom.

Weekends are also incredibly challenging for me. Right after the divorce, I had visions of living a free life, doing what I wanted with whoever I wanted. There were fantasies of meeting someone new and having a healthy relationship, but that hasn’t happened yet. As mentioned, there was also a desire to hang out with friends.

Life Becomes Lonely

I didn’t imagine myself being alone.

But that’s how I spend the vast majority of my weekends. At first, it wasn’t a big deal. I enjoyed watching the shows I wanted to watch and going to bed early. It was nice not having to run kids from one place to another. With COVID, I wasn’t going anywhere anyway. As time went on, I dreaded weekends.

I missed my boys. My life was so tied up in what they were doing, I didn’t know how to be on my own. I was bored and restless.

I had a lot of time to think -- about life in general and my life specifically.

One of the reasons why toxicity is allowed to persist is because people are afraid to call others out. They don’t want to rock the boat or seem like they are making a scene. Conflict is scary. And, in many cases, calling out the bad behavior isn’t going to change anything, and could potentially lead to backlash. 

That is something that happens in families. But that doesn’t mean the behavior should be ignored. Calling out the bullshit is how people learn to develop boundaries and ways to deal with bullies. It lets them know that what they’re feeling is valid and that there are others who can sympathize and empathize with what they are going through.

Those were lessons I needed to learn when I was a kid. The way I was raised, my parents made it seem like everyone in the world was so good and always had the best interest of others at the forefront of their minds. In kindergarten, this belief that stemmed from my home life allowed me to fall prey to my first narcissist, and it only continued from there.

As I got older, I learned a lot about my family’s dynamics and the household in which my mother was raised. I don’t have all the information, so I can’t say for sure if my grandmother had NPD or another personality disorder, but it was toxic. I wouldn’t accuse my mother of being a narcissist, but I would say her actions and how she raised us were greatly influenced by the way she was raised. 

That is generational trauma being passed on.

If my family had been able and willing to talk about the fact that some people were assholes, that may have changed a lot of things. It may have allowed me to recognize those traits in other people and not get sucked in by their charm and false selves.

But I can’t change the past.

All I can do is give my boys the things I didn’t have. 

I’m certainly not perfect. I’ve known this for a while, but it certainly felt like it became overwhelmingly apparent right after the divorce. I had had some mental breakdowns during the marriage, but they were easy to cover up and explain away as other issues to the boys. When I was on my own, I didn’t have anything to hide behind anymore. I had to get real honest with myself -- and my kids.

I Can’t Keep Secrets

Depression and anxiety are major factors in my life. I can deny it as much as I want, but it doesn’t make them go away. Instead of fighting against them, I have to look for ways to recognize them and learn from them. 

Shit got real after the divorce, and I struggled to do even the simplest of tasks. There are times when it’s still incredibly challenging for me to drive my kids to school. Panic grips me and I feel helpless. My boys are counting on me to be there, but sometimes I need a minute. I’m not afraid to tell them that.

I’ve also recognized the symptoms of anxiety in my kids. Instead of letting them flounder and deal on their own, I try to give them some ways to cope and ground themselves. This wasn’t something I was taught when I was a kid, and it would have been incredibly useful. I want to give my boys a fighting chance, so I don’t hide these things from them. 

They are already experiencing anxiety and depression, that’s not going to change, but knowing that they are not alone and have the strength to get through can help them live their best lives. It won’t take the issues away, but it will let them know that the problems can be dealt with -- and that it’s important to deal with them.

Dealing with the divorce forced me to look at myself and figure out why I am the way I am. There’s been a lot of trauma work to undo life habits that have influenced the way I live. Going back and exploring these things is incredibly difficult. There’s nothing like opening up old wounds that have been buried for a reason, but it’s also important. Healing the things from the past opens up possibilities for the future.

I’m still searching for myself. I’m still dealing with fallout from the divorce and the 17 years that happened before that moment in time. 

Hell, I’m dealing with the 40+ years that happened before that. 

I have dedicated myself to being a mom because that’s what gives me a purpose at this point in time. My boys need me, and I need them. It’s not easy because we all need a life of our own. My boys do have their own friends and lives to live, and I’ll get there eventually, but the process has been slow. I have a lot of things I need to work out, and it feels like all I can do is focus on one thing at a time right now. 

 For the moment, I choose to focus on my boys.

I’m Entitled to My Feelings

In today’s society, there is this notion that if you are overly emotional, you are weak. If you show anything less than a stoic and unwavering façade in the face of pain or tragedy, there’s something wrong with you. You are more valued if you have a cutthroat and unrelenting personality than if you are kind.

This is bullshit.

One of the things that makes us unique as humans is our ability to feel. Yes, sometimes our emotions can get the better of us, but when we learn to embrace and recognize our emotions, they don’t become so overwhelming.

In the last few years, I have done a lot of soul searching and self-reflection. Some of the things I’ve learned about myself is that I’m an INFJ and a highly sensitive person. People hurt my feelings. The world affects me on deep levels.

For the longest time, through the words and actions of others, I was taught that my feelings weren’t valid. I couldn’t express my true feelings or thoughts. If I did, there was something wrong with me. I was crazy or overreacting. I learned to keep things bottled up. I kept my mouth shut.

Pushing feelings deep down inside and pretending they don’t exist doesn’t make them go away. In fact, all this does is create a time bomb. At some point in time, those feelings are going to explode out of you. From experience, I know that it doesn’t happen at the most opportune moments. And it’s usually not directed at the people it needs to be directed at.

In addition, unexpressed emotions can turn into depression and anxiety. Living with these is much more challenging and debilitating than taking a few moments to cry or be pissed or laugh hysterically. These take a much larger toll on your physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual well-being.

I’m tired of pretending I don’t feel. I’m over hiding my emotions. Yes, I’m highly sensitive and I can get upset easily. But you know what? I’m entitled to my feelings. There’s nothing wrong with me for having those emotions. More often than not, I will be upset, sad, or angry for a while, and then I’ll let it go. And this is a healthier way to deal with these problems.

I’m also done with people who tell me I can’t feel my feels. If they get upset or angry because I’m crying or have hurt feelings and they lash out at me, that says more about them than it does about me. I have no desire to be around people like that anymore.

I’ve encountered them through all stages of my life and in various places, including the workplace. They are exhausting and frustrating and hard to be around. More than likely, they have denied themselves their feelings, and they have no other outlet for their emotions. They are trying to maintain their stoic and unemotional façade. They are trying to keep from blowing up.

They won’t succeed. It takes a lot of energy to keep things pushed down and hidden away. Something will give, and it won’t be at an opportune moment. They may be able to refrain for months or even years, but they’ll eventually crack.

Every emotion is valid. Every feeling deserves to be recognized. Nothing in this world lasts forever, and sadness, anger, happiness, and all the others come and go. Life is too short to not feel what you need to feel. I’m trying to live my life like that every day. If people think that makes me weak, that’s fine. You’re not my people.

I’m not going to pretend to be something I’m not. I am highly sensitive. I am overly emotional. I cry at movies, TV shows, and sometimes commercials. I get angry with my friends and others when they are disrespectful and rude. In time, I get over it. I move on. These are all the things that make me, me. I’m not going to deny who I am anymore. And I don’t need anyone’s approval to do that.

Finding Me

 Photo by Geran de Klerk on Unsplash

For a long time, I let other people define me. I would attempt to figure out what they expected of me, and then act accordingly. I wanted so badly to feel like I belonged and I was part of the group, I would change who I was just to fit in.

As a people pleaser, I got my definition and validation from how people viewed me. It would devastate me if someone didn’t like me. I would go out of my way to make things right and to ensure that they had a good view of me.

Because I was letting others define who I was, I believed them when they told me I was selfish, or a bad writer, or terrible at editing, or embarrassing. Along with the good came all the bad, and I took it all in and let it dictate who I was.

Within the last few months, my family suffered loss. During this time, it became clear that the way I was living, the desire to get my validation and definition from others, wasn’t sustainable. I lost a huge part of my support system as they worked through their own problems and their own grief. I was left alone.

Last year, when my anxiety and depression were at their worst, I did a lot of reading. There were a lot of self-help books in my TBR pile. If there was one thing that all of them had in common, it was that I had to depend on me.

You see, there are inherent flaws that occur when I let others determine who I am. First, I had to guess what they expected of me. Sure, they may have told me at some point in time that they needed me to do certain things or act in a certain way, but they never came right out and said, “This is who you should be.” Thus, I was guessing. I was making an assumption about what I thought they wanted.

We all know what assuming does: it makes an ass out of you and me. There’s absolutely no way I can ever know what a person truly thinks of me or what they expect of me. In addition, everyone I encountered would want or need something different.

This is an incredibly exhausting way to live. Constantly changing to meet the different wants and needs of other people left me stressed out and tired. It took a toll on my health, contributed to my anxiety and depression. It left me feeling hollow and unfulfilled.

I want to stress that there is a difference between being kind to someone and helping them out with what I was doing. I needed them to like me, otherwise I felt like I wasn’t a person. I needed to know I was loved and valuable, and I would do whatever I could to get that from others.

They can’t give that to me.

While my support system was going through their issues, I did the best I could to be there for them. I sent words of encouragement and kept my problems to myself. I was there when they needed me and did what they asked.

But I also learned something along the way. I learned how to depend on myself. I learned that no matter what the world throws at me and how tough things get, I have to be there to get myself through.

All of the self-help reading I did about having faith in myself and finding happiness within became clear. While there’s nothing wrong with being connected to others and having relationships, they shouldn’t define who I am. They aren’t the ones who validate my existence. Only I can do that.

No one else can solve my problems for me, only I can do that. No one else can tell me I matter, only I can do that.

Having this revelation was at once freeing and frightening. It had been a long time since I’d been in touch with the real me, I didn’t know who I was anymore.

To find out, I withdrew. I put up walls. I cut off contact.

I had a lot to learn about what was going on in my head and my heart, and I needed to be alone to do it. I’m still trying to figure things out and where I fit in the world. It’s hard. It’s scary. But it’s also freeing.

I still worry about what others think about me, but it doesn’t keep me up at night like it used to. I can let things go and don’t worry so much about looking like a fool or being selfish or bad. I’m honestly getting to the point where I don’t care. Parts of the true me are finding their way to the surface, and I like what I see.

Don’t get me wrong: I’m not going out of my way to be mean or rude to others. I’m still the nice person I always was, but I don’t feel the need to make people like me. If I’m having a conversation with someone and they don’t seem interested, I don’t struggle to find a topic they might enjoy. I just let things go. If I don’t want to hang out with people, I don’t. There isn’t an unrelenting drive inside that says I have to be around people to be of value.

The road is long and there’s a lot of history to deal with. While I can’t change anything from the past, I can learn from it—and learning I am. If there’s one thing I can take from this whole thing it’s that when I finally decide who I am and who I want to be, I’m going to be amazing. 

Putting Yourself Out There

Image by 정훈 김 from Pixabay

 
As a writer, I am always looking for ways to get myself and my work out to potential readers. Doing things online can be beneficial, but getting out and meeting people face to face can also be beneficial.

However, this process isn’t always easy, especially because I have anxiety and depression. Some days I’m scared to death and imagine that others will think I’m a fraud or ridiculous or have nothing of value to say. Other days, I’m too tired to even try.

The first year after we moved to Nebraska, both anxiety and depression had a huge impact on me. It was hard to do much of anything, let alone get out and interact with people. Seriously, I couldn’t even write without having a panic attack, so attending conferences or conventions wasn’t even an option.

I slowly got back into going to conventions, and the first one I participated in was O! Con in Omaha. After being there, I realized how much I missed that environment and mingling with people. I decided I needed to get back on the horse.

This year has been my year. So far, I’ve been to Crypticon in Seattle and O! Con in Omaha. Both were so much fun. I hope I get to go back next year. I’m already brainstorming some new panels/discussions!

In addition, I get to participate in the Wyoming Author Day in Torrington in August. I will also be going to the MAPACA conference in Philly. This one is much more research and literary based, but it’s still a lot of fun. The last time I was there was several years ago. This year’s theme is zombies, and Philly is where George Romero started, so you know I had to go.

I also have a library presentation set up for October, as well as participating in a state conference. I can’t tell you how excited I am! All of these are going to be so much fun, and I get to hang out with people who have the same interests I do!

If you’ve never been to a conference or a convention, I highly recommend checking one out. You don’t have to dive right in and start doing presentations or workshops (although you can if you want). Being a face in the crowd and attending panels or oohing and aahing over celebrities can be a lot of fun too.

In case you were wondering, there is a difference between a convention and a conference. While both can be educational, a conference is usually geared more toward research and people sharing their work. A convention is when people dress up as their favorite characters and meet famous people.

Both can be a great way to mingle and meet some amazing people, and both have the opportunity to learn new things—they just do it in very different ways.

Now, please don’t think that going to conferences and conventions has cured me of my ailments. They haven’t. I still get incredibly anxious before going “on stage” at these things. Being nervous is to be expected, but having anxiety means I go from being okay to thinking the world is going to end in about 1/10 of a second.

They can be incredibly exhausting, which can lead to depression and feeling like no one is listening to what I have to say or they don’t really care.

However, they do help in breaking me out of my shell. They allow me to feel like I have a place and a voice in this world. It may only be for a weekend, but sometimes that’s all I need. It’s really nice to get out and do something I enjoy. I will never be fully free of anxiety and depression, but conventions and conferences help me find new ways to cope and get me outside of my head.

Alone vs. Lonely

There’s a difference between being lonely and being alone. You don’t have to have one to have the other. Sometimes you can feel both at once. Alone is when you are by yourself. For some people, this is the preferred way to live. A person can be alone and not feel lonely.

Being lonely is the feeling that no one else in the world cares. It’s the belief that no one understands what you are going through and that you must suffer by yourself. This can happen when a person is alone, but it’s also something they can feel when they are surrounded by a crowd of people.

Whenever someone is hurting, whether it be from depression, anxiety, or another ailment, it can feel like they are alone in this world. Despite the cries from others that say, “I’m always here for you, you just reach out and let me know how I can help,” reaching out isn’t always easy.

Most of us who suffer from a mental illness, including anxiety and depression, know that there are others who feel the same. We know that there are millions of people in the world who struggle to get through their days, and we know that there are others who are willing to help us through our tough time.

But this doesn’t stop the feelings of loneliness. It doesn’t make it easier to reach out to others.

There can be so many different reasons why a person keeps their feelings bottled inside. Maybe they don’t want to burden their friends and family with their issues. Maybe they don’t know how to explain what they are feeling. Maybe they don’t want to talk about what’s hurting them. Maybe they haven’t received the emotional support they need.

Talking about mental health issues isn’t easy. A stigma surrounds these problems. Despite the fact that there are so many people who suffer from these problems, most people think they have to suffer alone.

This leads to loneliness.

Humans are social creatures. We thrive being in a group and hanging out with others. We often form deep attachments and feel a loss if those relationships go away.

When dealing with depression and anxiety, it can be hard to form relationships and interact with others. Anxiety will tell you that you’re saying something stupid and that you’re embarrassing. Depression will take away your energy and desire to hang out with friends and family. When they don’t call or text, it will tell you that they never really liked you anyway.

How do you voice this to someone without sounding needy? How do you let them know that you just need a little bit of reassurance and empathy?

For some, you may be able to come right out and say it. For others, it’s not that easy. Most people don’t want to look needy. That’s not a great quality to have. A lot of us also have problems asking for help when we really need it.

If we can’t have the connections with others that we want or need, that leads to loneliness. We don’t have to be alone to feel this. We can be at a social gathering and feel like we have nothing in common with the people around us. We may not be alone, but we definitely feel lonely.

Anxiety and depression are ailments that are experienced on an individual level. There may be some common traits associated with each, but how they manifest in an individual will vary. Each person deals with these issues in their own way. Because the issues stem from our own mind, it can be hard to explain to others exactly what we are going through. This further compounds loneliness.

Most people who suffer from mental illness are aware that there are others who want to help them, but being able to vocalize what is needed can be challenging. They may not know themselves.

On top of that, there’s a notion that no one can really help us with our problems anyway. At the end of the day, we’re the ones who have to find a way to cope and get through the anxiety or push through the depression. We can talk about it with others, but we’re the one who ultimately has to find a way through the pain.

This can make it even more challenging to open up to others. If they can’t do anything to fix the problem, what’s the point of bringing it up? Besides, they’re busy. They have their own lives and issues. They don’t need to deal with ours.

This can isolate you even further. It can push you deeper into anxiety and depression and make you feel even more lonely. It’s a vicious cycle. One I wish I had a way to break, but I don’t.