“Hello Mental Illness, It's me...
It's me, Rebekah, young girl Rebekah age 8.
For me mental illness started a long time ago, before I even knew what it was called. I called it pain, hurt, sadness, brokenness, loneliness, fear.
When I was 8, all innocence was taken from me by a stranger. Someone I thought was there to watch me while my parents were away, someone I was told to trust. After those encounters I, Rebekah, little girl changed. The sun was no longer as bright as it used to be, the rain hurt and poured down my cheeks-life was no longer pure and simple. Life was dark inside.
Never telling anyone made life an illusion. I wore a smile to hide the pain, talking about issues in my family was not something I felt as encouraged. Growing up the baby, the only girl that didn't look like her brothers made the pain harder and the insecurities deeper. I was the ugly duckling, the overweight, four eyed, braces and mouth guard little girl with brothers that had an amazing metabolism.
I didn't get to be the little girl that did girlie things like dance. I needed to do more physical l activity like sports because my weight and eating habits were a "problem". I was managed on how many pieces of candy I could have and I knew the rule was just for me. I prayed for my head to be put on someone else's body.
As I grew up, I always felt alone, bullied at school, so I bullied back for control. My thoughts, feelings, emotions were inside, hidden away, wanting to tell but afraid in some way things that happened were my fault.
I had a growth spurt my 6th grade year, lost the glasses and no more braces. I was "happy" -or so I thought that's what this new attention was called. I HAD to stay this way! So over the next 7 years I struggled painfully through anorexia and bulimia. My freshman year I felt as though my parents didn't know what to do with me and sent me to a counselor to "fix" me. I didn't need to be fixed! I needed to be heard, listened to, loved for who I was!
During that time the secret of the sexual abuse came out....and that 's what i felt I heard, silence. No fight for me, no I'm sorry this happened, no let's talk through the pain it has and is causing me. Just silence, like no one knew what to do, or maybe if we don't talk further it didn't really happen. Or it happened but it was a long time ago, there's nothing we can do now. Life went on with no recovery, just food journals because that's all the focus was on now. She's too skinny, her teeth are suffering-fix her!
I was coming out of my shell "becoming a social butterfly" (but they just get in trouble). During one of my darkest times I was told "You're too much." That night I tried to take my life. Taking a handful of pain medications, drinking perfume and other household concoctions and holding scissors to me neck. I wasn't "strong enough" to press them in and just laid in bed unsure of what the morning would bring or if the pills would not allow the sun to rise.
I awoke groggy but alive. I was glad but now afraid, the letter at my bedside my mom asked what I had done. Going to the hospital felt like more routine than alarm at what I had just tried to do. Again sent to counseling to "fix her". More journal writings, more talk about the food issues, more times of just say that they want to hear so I can get this hour of hell over with. Put on antidepressants I felt numb. I couldn't feel, so I found a life of unhealthy relationships, drinking and experimenting with drugs in order to "feel" something.
Unhealthy relationships became my drug of choice. New faces, new bodies to make me feel like I had "SOMETHING" to offer-something that a stranger wanted only from me in my young childhood years. It was familiar, it was easy, it was painful, dark, controlling and destructive. But it numbed the depression, anxiety, the insecurities that no one wanted me. Because for me in those awful moments, someone wanted All of me- to me that equaled I was Enough!
I got myself in a damaging relationship, physically, mentally and emotionally. i hurt him emotionally but he hurt me seven fold physically. I almost lost my life at his hands and my world was shaken. I was mad at him, afraid -but I was just as equally mad at myself, hurt by myself and afraid of who I was-out of control!
Although eating disorders were no longer a real issue, alcohol and smoking cigarettes became my best friend. Most nights I was hardly sober- see I never dealt with anything. I just believed this was my life-this was who I am.
Trying antidepressants/anxiety medication again throughout the years, only I hated the side affects and the thought of "needing" them made me weak or unable to manage my life because of choices and circumstances. I never wanted to believe I actually had a legitimate struggle with mental illness and that it was ok.
I still struggle each and every day and my husband and family support me the best I believe they know how. I took myself off my last medication (the withdrawals pushed me into suicidal thinking and that terrified me) because I do know I finally accept ME for Me! I have mental illness-depression-anxiety-codependency-Fear is the greatest of all. I don't make all the right self care choices and sometimes I choose to succumb to the mind and allow it all to take me over-But everyday I get up and live! Live often times not for me but for my children, my husband, my family, my passions- little by little, with baby steps. Maybe someday giant steps I will, I know I will wake up and live for me in spite of the past, in spite of the hurt, in spite of the struggle. One day I know i will finally believe I am enough... This is me!
Sparkle Mental Health Connection has given me a voice, a platform to share my story. It has brought a sense of accountability, understanding and truth knowing I am not alone in the struggle of mental illness.”
It's me, Rebekah, young girl Rebekah age 8.
For me mental illness started a long time ago, before I even knew what it was called. I called it pain, hurt, sadness, brokenness, loneliness, fear.
When I was 8, all innocence was taken from me by a stranger. Someone I thought was there to watch me while my parents were away, someone I was told to trust. After those encounters I, Rebekah, little girl changed. The sun was no longer as bright as it used to be, the rain hurt and poured down my cheeks-life was no longer pure and simple. Life was dark inside.
Never telling anyone made life an illusion. I wore a smile to hide the pain, talking about issues in my family was not something I felt as encouraged. Growing up the baby, the only girl that didn't look like her brothers made the pain harder and the insecurities deeper. I was the ugly duckling, the overweight, four eyed, braces and mouth guard little girl with brothers that had an amazing metabolism.
I didn't get to be the little girl that did girlie things like dance. I needed to do more physical l activity like sports because my weight and eating habits were a "problem". I was managed on how many pieces of candy I could have and I knew the rule was just for me. I prayed for my head to be put on someone else's body.
As I grew up, I always felt alone, bullied at school, so I bullied back for control. My thoughts, feelings, emotions were inside, hidden away, wanting to tell but afraid in some way things that happened were my fault.
I had a growth spurt my 6th grade year, lost the glasses and no more braces. I was "happy" -or so I thought that's what this new attention was called. I HAD to stay this way! So over the next 7 years I struggled painfully through anorexia and bulimia. My freshman year I felt as though my parents didn't know what to do with me and sent me to a counselor to "fix" me. I didn't need to be fixed! I needed to be heard, listened to, loved for who I was!
During that time the secret of the sexual abuse came out....and that 's what i felt I heard, silence. No fight for me, no I'm sorry this happened, no let's talk through the pain it has and is causing me. Just silence, like no one knew what to do, or maybe if we don't talk further it didn't really happen. Or it happened but it was a long time ago, there's nothing we can do now. Life went on with no recovery, just food journals because that's all the focus was on now. She's too skinny, her teeth are suffering-fix her!
I was coming out of my shell "becoming a social butterfly" (but they just get in trouble). During one of my darkest times I was told "You're too much." That night I tried to take my life. Taking a handful of pain medications, drinking perfume and other household concoctions and holding scissors to me neck. I wasn't "strong enough" to press them in and just laid in bed unsure of what the morning would bring or if the pills would not allow the sun to rise.
I awoke groggy but alive. I was glad but now afraid, the letter at my bedside my mom asked what I had done. Going to the hospital felt like more routine than alarm at what I had just tried to do. Again sent to counseling to "fix her". More journal writings, more talk about the food issues, more times of just say that they want to hear so I can get this hour of hell over with. Put on antidepressants I felt numb. I couldn't feel, so I found a life of unhealthy relationships, drinking and experimenting with drugs in order to "feel" something.
Unhealthy relationships became my drug of choice. New faces, new bodies to make me feel like I had "SOMETHING" to offer-something that a stranger wanted only from me in my young childhood years. It was familiar, it was easy, it was painful, dark, controlling and destructive. But it numbed the depression, anxiety, the insecurities that no one wanted me. Because for me in those awful moments, someone wanted All of me- to me that equaled I was Enough!
I got myself in a damaging relationship, physically, mentally and emotionally. i hurt him emotionally but he hurt me seven fold physically. I almost lost my life at his hands and my world was shaken. I was mad at him, afraid -but I was just as equally mad at myself, hurt by myself and afraid of who I was-out of control!
Although eating disorders were no longer a real issue, alcohol and smoking cigarettes became my best friend. Most nights I was hardly sober- see I never dealt with anything. I just believed this was my life-this was who I am.
Trying antidepressants/anxiety medication again throughout the years, only I hated the side affects and the thought of "needing" them made me weak or unable to manage my life because of choices and circumstances. I never wanted to believe I actually had a legitimate struggle with mental illness and that it was ok.
I still struggle each and every day and my husband and family support me the best I believe they know how. I took myself off my last medication (the withdrawals pushed me into suicidal thinking and that terrified me) because I do know I finally accept ME for Me! I have mental illness-depression-anxiety-codependency-Fear is the greatest of all. I don't make all the right self care choices and sometimes I choose to succumb to the mind and allow it all to take me over-But everyday I get up and live! Live often times not for me but for my children, my husband, my family, my passions- little by little, with baby steps. Maybe someday giant steps I will, I know I will wake up and live for me in spite of the past, in spite of the hurt, in spite of the struggle. One day I know i will finally believe I am enough... This is me!
Sparkle Mental Health Connection has given me a voice, a platform to share my story. It has brought a sense of accountability, understanding and truth knowing I am not alone in the struggle of mental illness.”
“I don’t have an extraordinary set of circumstances that have been holding me back or have caused a severe amount of trauma. I don’t appear to be someone who struggles with their mental health. I’ve had some ups and downs in my life, like I’m sure we all have, money troubles, issues with friends and family, getting laid off, etc. All of these “small” problems, I suppressed and didn’t let them weigh me down. It didn’t matter what I was going through I just attempted to remain happy, I believed that if I just focused on trying to be happy and positive about every situation I’d be okay. I really believed I was, I had gone through seeing my parents get a divorce, and having to take on the role of “The man of the house”. I handled friends lying behind my back, losing loved ones, all with a smile on my face. A smile that said “Don’t worry about me, I’m okay. How can I help you?” Constantly trying to be a support system for everyone, yet I never took time to stop and address my well-being. If I were a house, I was basically putting up fancy positivity decorations with elegant patterns to distract myself, and others from the crumbling foundation underneath.
This year I experienced my first true heartbreak, it left me feeling weak, worthless, like I had seemingly lost my purpose. This pain was so unique and overwhelmingly heavy that my entire home came crumbling down. My positivity decorations weren’t prepared for this. I was in shambles, could barely eat, could barely go to class, all I wanted to do was sleep. Sleep and escape the emptiness that now filled my chest cavity. I closed myself off, I was dejected, giving barely any details when asked, just a shell. This had been going on for two weeks, and an unlikely mentor was able to crack my shell enough, to do what I feared most, become vulnerable.
Her name is Rebecca Bernard, she was my creative writing professor. She stopped me after a particularly dreary class, where I was wearing the same coffee-stained sweatpants and hoodie from the previous week. I don’t think I picked my head up the entire class, she called me up as I was leaving and simply asked.
“Are you okay?”
I had heard that several times since the breakup, from close friends, family, teammates, and I had always said I was doing fine or that I was just keeping it pushing. I was still putting up a half-assed shield, yet when my professor asked for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to say any words. I just looked her in the eyes and shook my head no. Shield broken.
This simple question from my professor who I only spoke too briefly up to this point, started my journey into self-care and self-love. She showed me how to get assistance from my university with the CARE team at UNT(excellent service, I highly recommend), and they paired me with my counselor. This was extremely intimidating and scary to me, because my identity and sense of worth was built on being dependable and always having everything together. “How could I possibly continue to be that person, if I’m in shambles seeking out professional help?” This was one of my first thoughts but I knew that this was something I needed. I needed an outside perspective who was contractually obligated to keep my secrets. Counseling has taught me one of the greatest lessons I’ve ever learned, you cannot have true strength and courage without vulnerability.
Being given a space to be totally vulnerable allowed me to address, not just the breakup, but the small things that I tried to cover up as well. I never truly processed the grief of losing my mentor and coach Robert Renney. I never truly allowed myself to be frustrated that I now had to be a big brother and pseudo parent to my younger brother following my parents divorce. I never allowed myself to be frustrated and angry with my father, for never being present even though I saw him every day. All of these seemingly small things had continued to fester and drain me without me knowing. I had gone on continuing to give what I had, never taking time to refill my cup. Never giving myself the space to heal or even do things for me. In hindsight it’s no wonder she left me, I was giving all of my love away but the cup of love that I had was empty. I don’t know how long it’d been empty but at some point, I ran out of love to give. I never gave myself back the love I gave others and instead I just gave myself unprocessed emotions. As much as I talk about this breakup, this story, my story is not about getting over heartbreak. Heartbreak was the catalyst that broke me down enough to rebuild into the person I was meant to be.
Why though? If the story isn’t about heartbreak and it’s just a catalyst, why am I sharing this with you all in the first place? That answer is simple, because men(especially young men) need to know it’s okay to cry and be vulnerable. It’s okay to not be okay, that if you have “weak” emotions to display them, deal with them, and get them out of your system so you can truly heal. I know most men like myself, were raised to be tough and to “man up”. Which there is nothing wrong with teaching men to be strong, and face their problems head-on. It just has to be taught fully, only through teaching and creating space for men and boys to be vulnerable can that strength and courage be fully developed. Vulnerability is about making decisions that you put you at risk of embarrassment, harassment, betrayal, which everyone is scared of receiving. This is why it’s courageous to be vulnerable, walking out and competing in sports requires vulnerability. Performing a song or dance, giving a presentation, acting in a play, leading a team, all require a certain level of vulnerability. We’ve all had to go through at least one or two instances like that, that required us to be vulnerable, so why do we tend to hesitate to open up and be vulnerable to those closest to us, and most importantly with ourselves? Once you open up and allow yourself to be vulnerable with others, you will find it easier to give yourself grace.
To forgive yourself, to allow yourself to feel all ranges of emotions, to love yourself and be comfortable with all the good parts about yourself and the things you’d like to improve. I still don’t love myself fully and I still haven’t managed to fill my cup just yet, but I’m starting too. Little by little, I’m learning new things about myself and rediscovering who I am and who I want to become. I accept that I’m not where I would like to be, and I’m giving myself the space to continue striving towards loving myself fully. I couldn’t do this journey alone, and it’s organizations like Sparkle, counselors, therapists, and mental health professionals, who are going out and making a difference, and quite literally saving lives. My story is mild in comparison to the hardships others struggle with but the commonality between harsher stories and mine, is that it can’t be done alone. You need a support system, that can provide guidance when you want it, and most importantly give you the space to release everything that’s holding you down when you need it. Everyone’s journey with mental health and self-love is different, and each one should be validated. I’d like to thank Sparkle for giving me an opportunity to share a bit of my story, and I hope there was a lesson to be learned somewhere in there, whatever that lesson is, I’ll leave that up to you to discover. Thank you.”
This year I experienced my first true heartbreak, it left me feeling weak, worthless, like I had seemingly lost my purpose. This pain was so unique and overwhelmingly heavy that my entire home came crumbling down. My positivity decorations weren’t prepared for this. I was in shambles, could barely eat, could barely go to class, all I wanted to do was sleep. Sleep and escape the emptiness that now filled my chest cavity. I closed myself off, I was dejected, giving barely any details when asked, just a shell. This had been going on for two weeks, and an unlikely mentor was able to crack my shell enough, to do what I feared most, become vulnerable.
Her name is Rebecca Bernard, she was my creative writing professor. She stopped me after a particularly dreary class, where I was wearing the same coffee-stained sweatpants and hoodie from the previous week. I don’t think I picked my head up the entire class, she called me up as I was leaving and simply asked.
“Are you okay?”
I had heard that several times since the breakup, from close friends, family, teammates, and I had always said I was doing fine or that I was just keeping it pushing. I was still putting up a half-assed shield, yet when my professor asked for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to say any words. I just looked her in the eyes and shook my head no. Shield broken.
This simple question from my professor who I only spoke too briefly up to this point, started my journey into self-care and self-love. She showed me how to get assistance from my university with the CARE team at UNT(excellent service, I highly recommend), and they paired me with my counselor. This was extremely intimidating and scary to me, because my identity and sense of worth was built on being dependable and always having everything together. “How could I possibly continue to be that person, if I’m in shambles seeking out professional help?” This was one of my first thoughts but I knew that this was something I needed. I needed an outside perspective who was contractually obligated to keep my secrets. Counseling has taught me one of the greatest lessons I’ve ever learned, you cannot have true strength and courage without vulnerability.
Being given a space to be totally vulnerable allowed me to address, not just the breakup, but the small things that I tried to cover up as well. I never truly processed the grief of losing my mentor and coach Robert Renney. I never truly allowed myself to be frustrated that I now had to be a big brother and pseudo parent to my younger brother following my parents divorce. I never allowed myself to be frustrated and angry with my father, for never being present even though I saw him every day. All of these seemingly small things had continued to fester and drain me without me knowing. I had gone on continuing to give what I had, never taking time to refill my cup. Never giving myself the space to heal or even do things for me. In hindsight it’s no wonder she left me, I was giving all of my love away but the cup of love that I had was empty. I don’t know how long it’d been empty but at some point, I ran out of love to give. I never gave myself back the love I gave others and instead I just gave myself unprocessed emotions. As much as I talk about this breakup, this story, my story is not about getting over heartbreak. Heartbreak was the catalyst that broke me down enough to rebuild into the person I was meant to be.
Why though? If the story isn’t about heartbreak and it’s just a catalyst, why am I sharing this with you all in the first place? That answer is simple, because men(especially young men) need to know it’s okay to cry and be vulnerable. It’s okay to not be okay, that if you have “weak” emotions to display them, deal with them, and get them out of your system so you can truly heal. I know most men like myself, were raised to be tough and to “man up”. Which there is nothing wrong with teaching men to be strong, and face their problems head-on. It just has to be taught fully, only through teaching and creating space for men and boys to be vulnerable can that strength and courage be fully developed. Vulnerability is about making decisions that you put you at risk of embarrassment, harassment, betrayal, which everyone is scared of receiving. This is why it’s courageous to be vulnerable, walking out and competing in sports requires vulnerability. Performing a song or dance, giving a presentation, acting in a play, leading a team, all require a certain level of vulnerability. We’ve all had to go through at least one or two instances like that, that required us to be vulnerable, so why do we tend to hesitate to open up and be vulnerable to those closest to us, and most importantly with ourselves? Once you open up and allow yourself to be vulnerable with others, you will find it easier to give yourself grace.
To forgive yourself, to allow yourself to feel all ranges of emotions, to love yourself and be comfortable with all the good parts about yourself and the things you’d like to improve. I still don’t love myself fully and I still haven’t managed to fill my cup just yet, but I’m starting too. Little by little, I’m learning new things about myself and rediscovering who I am and who I want to become. I accept that I’m not where I would like to be, and I’m giving myself the space to continue striving towards loving myself fully. I couldn’t do this journey alone, and it’s organizations like Sparkle, counselors, therapists, and mental health professionals, who are going out and making a difference, and quite literally saving lives. My story is mild in comparison to the hardships others struggle with but the commonality between harsher stories and mine, is that it can’t be done alone. You need a support system, that can provide guidance when you want it, and most importantly give you the space to release everything that’s holding you down when you need it. Everyone’s journey with mental health and self-love is different, and each one should be validated. I’d like to thank Sparkle for giving me an opportunity to share a bit of my story, and I hope there was a lesson to be learned somewhere in there, whatever that lesson is, I’ll leave that up to you to discover. Thank you.”