BYOB

Thanks, me. You're the best!

How do you love to be loved? 

I think that we each have a unique answer to this question, and likely a long one.  There are a lot of different ways we love and show our love for one another.  We tell someone the lovely things we think about them.  We surprise our loved one with a special treat.  We give our partner a back rub at the end of a long day.  We listen - to stories, to rants, to the unsaid words in the silence.  

But, what if you don't have someone in your life to love you in those unique ways that you love to be loved?  

Well, I propose that you Be Your Own Boyfriend.  Or Girlfriend.  Or Best Friend.  The title is not important.  Be the person you need.  This is about self-care.   This is about loving yourself in the ways you love to be loved.  There's no need to go without or to wait until someone comes along who can love you in those ways.  Love can be a DIY project.  

What follows are some of the ways that I have learned to be my own boyfriend, my own loved one.  These are, then, the unique ways that I love to be loved and they may not be yours, but perhaps these ideas will spark you to consider that question - How do I love to be loved? - and then put into action some simple ways to show yourself some of that love.  (Oh hey, future boyfriend!  I sent you the link to this post and strongly implied that it would be in your best interest to read it, didn't I?  Yeah, sounds like something I'd do.  Listen up.)

• Buy yourself flowers. Once a month-ish, I buy myself a bouquet of flowers from the farmers market, or scavenge for them in the countryside. For me, flowers are one of the cheapest sources of joy.
  

• Set your phone to send you sweet-nothings throughout the day. I'm not ashamed to tell you that I wake up every morning to a message on my phone that reads, "Good morning, beautiful." It's surprisingly heartwarming. As soon as there's an app that will make me breakfast, I think my iPhone and I will make it official. (Side note: I've also set my phone to buzz and pop up the message "Take your meds, lady!" at 8 am everyday. Whenever my kids hear that alarm go off, they shout at me "Take your meds, lady!" as a sort of conditioned response. It's one of my favourite things.)
  

• Run yourself a bath. Get out the fancy bubbles and bath oils. Pour yourself a glass of wine. Put on your favourite tunes or set up your iPad in some sort of waterproof cocoon so you can watch Friday Night Lights (guys, I know I'm late to this party, but OMG so good). Or screw all that and just splash around to your heart's content. I mean, it's you that's going to have to clean it up, remember, but what better way to clean the bathroom floor?
  

• Sit with yourself - not simply by yourself but with yourself - and listen for the words unsaid, as you would with a dear friend. Greet those words with kindness and an open heart.
  

• Celebrate your birthday. Don't wait on someone to plan a party or sing the song. Sing it yourself. Buy yourself cake. You'll be guaranteed to get the kind you want. If you can, spend the day doing something you really love.
  

• Cook your favourite meal, just for you. Take the time to pick out the right ingredients and to prepare the meal slowly and with love. If you are so inclined, light a candle and use fancy plates and sit at an actual table that is not a coffee table or a couch cushion. Or take yourself out for dinner. Trust me, you can do that. It may feel uncomfortable sitting at a table for one but in all honesty, nobody cares and listen to this: you don't have to share your dessert with anyone.
  

• Netflix and chill. By yourself. You heard me. Either literally or metaphorically. (Oh jeepers, now I'm going to have to explain this to my mother. Sex, ma, it means sex.)
  

• Rant out loud to yourself (perhaps in the privacy of your own home?) or get it out on paper. Is it as satisfying as ranting to someone else who will nod and mm-hmm and give you all the visual cues that they believe you are totally justified in your ranting? No, frankly it's not. But it still feels good.
  

• Get a massage. For my part, I recently bought a gym membership and the level of membership I purchased includes the use of hydromassage beds. When signing up for the membership, I thought I'd just give the massage thing a whirl but I didn't expect much. I assumed I'd decide I could do without. But then I tried one and HERE HAVE ALL MY MONEY. My kingdom for a hydromassage. Seven minutes of heaven that I really don't think a boyfriend could replicate. If you're keeping track, the robots are winning.
  

• Check in with yourself about how you're feeling. Loved ones, boyfriends, girlfriends...they check in to see if you're comfortable, if you're happy, if you're feeling safe. Are you warm enough? Are you having a good time? Do you want something to eat? Do you like where you are - this restaurant, this neighbourhood, this career, this life? Make a point of checking in with yourself and asking those questions.

These are just a few ideas and, as I said, they are my own and they may not float your particular boat.  The point is to consider how you can meet your needs instead of waiting for others to meet them for you.  This is about empowering yourself to create the love you want and the life you want instead of relying on destiny or luck to bring you what your heart desires.

But you know what?  I believe if you do this, if you learn how to show yourself the love you need, if/when someone does come around who wants to show you some love too, you'll know what you want, you'll know what your favourite kind of love feels like, and they'll have a shining example of how to love you in just the right way.  I believe this Dr. Phil-ism to be true: You teach people how to treat you. 

Show 'em how it's done. 

8 Lessons From My 8-Year-Old

Every year for her birthday, I draw Isla a picture of that number of animals in the shape of that number. I was sure she'd tell me to stop by now. She told me recently that I have to keep doing this until she's 26. Game on.

We celebrated my daughter Isla's 8th birthday at the end of October.  This seems preposterous.  She was a baby just yesterday, I'm sure of it.  But alas, it is true.  My 57-pound bundle of joy barely fits on my lap these days, and more and more I can see the young woman she is becoming behind those beautiful eyes that still light up at the thought of the tooth fairy visiting.  We talk about how she saw Santa downtown last month, "the real Santa, Mum," and then we discuss profit margins and marketing strategies for the bakery she wants to own some day.  It's beautiful, baring witness to this time in her life, this in-between.  I want to hold fast to my baby and keep her little just awhile longer, but I also can't wait to meet this young woman and see her take on this life.  

I started to draft a post about the 8 most important lessons I want to teach her as she grows up, but as I began to brainstorm my list, I realized that she came into this world with an awe-inspiring wisdom and spirit all her own, and she has already learned so much in her 8 years here.  And all this while, it turns out, she has been the one teaching me.  These are just 8 of the most important lessons I have learned from her, so far:

1)  Monkey Bars or Bust

This past summer, my daughter's one goal was to master the monkey bars.  When she started out, she could barely reach them.  Every ounce of her little body strained for her fingertips to grip the paint-flaked metal.  Every bit of her strength rallied to pull those little toes off the ground.  She'd take one swing, grasping for the next rung, and fall.  She'd get back up.  She'd try again.  When her palms got sweaty and slippery, she would dust them with the wood shavings underneath the playground, like a rock climber chalking her hands.   She'd get frustrated, and I'd ask her now and then if she wanted to take a break, go down the slide, play tag.  "No," she'd say defiantly.  It was monkey bars or bust, and by the end of the summer, she could make it across and back, go backwards, skip rungs.  Let me tell you: that first time she made it across, the joy on her face...that's what we live for as parents and that's what we should live for as people lucky enough to have a chance on this planet.  And so she has taught me to persevere: to get back up, dust my hands, and try and try again until I've made it across.

2)  One Box of Smarties = Six Months of Delight

My step-dad, Frank, came into our lives at the same time that Isla did; in fact, I first met him in the hospital waiting room, my daughter in my arms.  It took awhile for us to all get to know each other, but in time he became not only a father figure to me, but a grandfather to my children.  And like any grandfather, he liked to spoil his grandkids.  Nearly every time he came to visit, he would arrive with a box of Smarties tucked in his shirt pocket.  This gift of his was so reliable that Isla called them "Frank treats" and she looooved her Frank treats.  She would carefully choose just the right one, hold it in her tiny fingers, and lick it, enjoying it little by little, making it last (literally) hours.  She continues to do this with any treat or luxury: she thoroughly enjoys it, lives in the moment, and makes it last.  

We lost Frank two years ago but every time I see a box of "Frank treats" I think of him and the love and little candy-coated hours of happiness he shared with the girls.

3)  Hearts are Made for Loving

A card from Isla with a picture of her giving me the same card. Whoa.

Isla is the most loving, compassionate person I've ever met.  She walks into every situation, every relationship, with the question: What can I do to make their day a little brighter?  I've come to realize that this website would be entirely unnecessary if I just turned the spotlight on her.  She can show us how to find joy.  It's simple: you find joy for yourself by giving it to others.  I wake up to her beaming smile, so excited to lead me to the breakfast she made especially for me ("No peeking, Mum!").  She tells me that there's a new kid in her class, who she introduced herself to at recess and invited to play.  It is difficult to leave our house without some sort of card or drawing or craft in your pocket, or a loving hug wrapped around your waist.  She gives with her whole heart, without expecting anything in return.

4)  Fun is Fun!

Isla is also the silliest person I've ever met.  And like any properly silly person, she is a natural connoisseur of the ridiculous.  Like her mother, Isla has never met a pun she didn't like, and jokes of any kind (but particularly of the knock-knock variety) are hilarious and to be encouraged with booming belly laughs.  I have learned that when I want to make her day a little brighter, I need only walk into the room with something on my head or crawling on all fours like a bear.  I once found a lone sock on the floor and picked it up and pretended it was my baby, rocking it in my arms and trying to soothe its sock-baby cries.  Isla lit up and ran over with the other sock to match.  "Twins!" I shouted with glee, and that kid absolutely squealed with delight, more than I think I have ever experienced in my life.  She reminds me all the time that fun is meant to be fun, that this life is here to be lived and enjoyed, and that swimsuits double as perfectly suitable pyjamas.

5)  Go with your Gut 

My daughter's best friend's grandmother (stay with me here) lives three doors down, which means that her best friend is around a lot and there is often a gaggle of giggly girls running back and forth between our two houses.   One afternoon a few months ago, Isla came in to let me know that her friend wanted them to go play in a neighbour's front yard, the yard of the man who lives next door to her friend's grandmother.  The friend and her family know him very well but my girls and I do not.  Before I could say anything, though, Isla told me that she was not comfortable playing there.  The yard is visible from my window and so I would have been okay with them playing there (they cross over his lawn all the time) but I told her that she was right to listen to her instincts, and that she didn't, and doesn't ever, have to go anywhere that she is not comfortable going.  I was amazed by her, and continue to be amazed and grateful that she will listen to her gut and speak up.  I hope it continues.  And I hope I can do a little better at it myself.

6) Hair Shmair 

About a year or so ago, Isla decided, seemingly on a whim, that she wanted to cut off all of her hair.  I was taking her for what I thought would be just a trim, just an inch or two off the bottom of her past-the-shoulders hair.  But no, she informed me that she wanted it short.  Like short short.  Like pixie short.  I asked her if she was sure.  She said she was.  I asked her again, about twelve more times.  She was really, really sure.  And in the end, despite my misgivings, I understood that it was her hair and therefore it was her choice.  So the hair came off.  And damned if it didn't look incredible, and she absolutely adored it.  For awhile, anyway.  It wasn't long before she wanted to grow it back out.  But she didn't regret her decision.  Hair grows back.  She taught me that it's okay to take a leap and try something new.  And that sometimes, it's best not to listen to your mother. 

7)  Who Needs Tiffany's When You Have Michael's?

How can this kid get more fabulous?  Well, she also happens to be incredibly creative and resourceful.  When she turned 7, I told Isla that she could get her ears pierced if she wished, but she has decided that for the time being, the pain is not worth the gain.  Does that stop her from accessorizing?  No way.  One day I looked over and she had gemstones on her ears, or at least it appeared that way.  Upon closer inspection, I discovered that they were faux rhinestone stickers that she had found in the craft supplies.  Brilliant. You can have what you want; sometimes, you just have to use your imagination to find another way.

We had a little talk about rule #2: "Do not touch unless your told to". She was concerned about everyone's safety, but conceded that maybe members could make some decisions for themselves. She chose to delete that rule.

8)  Be the Change

As you might expect, my daughter is a very well-liked kid who gets along with most everyone.  There have, however, already been times in her short 8 years here that she has been treated unfairly and left out of the group.  Last year, a group of girls who had been her very closest friends suddenly turned on her, and wouldn't let her be a part of their recess Fairy Club.  The problem, as I understood it, was that Isla didn't believe in fairies, and they wouldn't let her play unless she said she did.

Despite the fact that she dearly wanted to play with her friends, LOVED to play fairies and make up stories and scenarios, she stood her ground: she wouldn't say something she didn't believe.  And so, they continued to leave her out.

She cried, and I did my best to explain something that is pretty inexplicable.  She cried some more.  And then she got angry.  And then she got calm.  And then one day she come home and told me that she had started her own club, a Nature Club, and she had already recruited a few kids to join her.  I think my jaw may have actually dropped.  Together, we researched games and activities for her club, and she came up with a list of rules.  She told me, though, that one of the rules was unwritten: everyone was allowed to join.

Nature Club caught on for a few weeks, but then her friends missed her and invited her back to play.  She was pleased as punch, but since then she has insisted that they always include anyone else who wishes to join them.

I feel immensely proud of this young woman every day, and when I feel like I don't know where I'm going, I look to her.  It's a funny thing, this parenthood.  Here I thought I was supposed to be a role model for her, and it's the other way around. 

I expect that she has more to teach me.  You can bet that I have my notepad ready.

Letting Love In

Welcome

I've been thinking a lot lately about love.

A few months ago, a friend and I were talking about love, the romantic kind in this instance.  After enduring what I think is my fair share of heartbreak, I explained that I wasn't sure I wanted to take a chance on love again.  I wasn't sure if my little heart could take it.  I was afraid.  

I listed all the reasons why I should hang up my hat and take myself out of the relationship running.  The pain was too much.  The risks were too great.  For me, the risks include plummeting into a depression that I can't climb back out of and I reasoned that, particularly with two little girls who need me, it would be foolish for me to take that risk again.  How could I let someone in who might hurt me?  How could I let someone in who might threaten this good life I've worked so hard to build? 

"But that is a part of love," my friend argued.  "And love is worth it." 

"No," I replied.  "It's too hard." 

And I began to shut down.  I began to close up shop, packing away my hopes for a future with someone by my side, pushing away thoughts of romance and companionship and stuffing down any longing for affection and connection, hoping it would all go away.  I have to protect myself, I thought.  I have to close the borders.

But lately I've been reconsidering this policy.

I've been thinking a lot about my life's experience with love so far, with love of all kinds, and I've realized that I have been surrounded and engulfed and tripping over love - the love of family and friends and boyfriends and neighbours and people who smile as we pass each other on the street.  I've seen love in the eyes of my daughters and felt love in a handshake with a stranger and heard love in the voices of a choir singing love to all the hearts in the room.  Love is in the garbage bin blowing down the street that is retrieved by a neighbour.  Love is in the gluten-sugar-dairy-free dessert my friend went out of her way to make so I wouldn't be left out.  Love is in the joke made by the grocery store clerk as she packs my groceries.  I have let all of this love in and I have been rewarded beyond measure.

But what about the pain that I'm so afraid of?  The pain is there and it has hurt like hell and it has shaken the ground.  But the buildings still stand.  And I've been asking myself: Would I take away all that love to avoid that pain?  Would I take away those months, those years, of happiness so as not to endure the pain that marked its end?

No.  No, of course not.  Not in a million years.

This has been a tough few weeks for a lot of people.  The crisis in Syria and the plight of the refugees who are fleeing their homes.  The suicide bombings and attacks by ISIS in France, Iraq, Saudi Arabia and Lebanon, just to scratch the surface.  More fear and pain than it is possible to comprehend. Closer to home, good friends lost their 11 year old son this week, a beautiful boy and an unimaginable goodbye that should never happen.  It seems to me that lately there has been altogether far too much sadness and heartbreak to go around.  But then, there has also been love.  Communities pulling together to be there for each other.  Strangers offering homes and clothing and warm welcome.  Friends offering condolences and support and warm thoughts.  Would I, as a parent, take away my time with my child if I knew I would have to say goodbye?  Should we miss out on the chance for more love and kindness and beauty in this amazing country of ours on the slim chance that some ugliness might slip through the cracks?

No.  No, of course not. 

With love comes pain.  But with pain comes love.

So I'm choosing to let love in.  Not without caution.  Not without some security checks.  But the borders are now open and love is now welcome.  And as for the risks?  I'm trusting that I can handle them, as I have before.  The buildings still stand.  I'm trusting that we as a country can handle them too, as we have before.  The buildings still stand, built on immigrant shoulders, held up by immigrant hands.

Let's let love in.  Let's let love flood in. 

Because love is worth it.

Takeaway Ten

And we're off

Like most littles in this part of the world, my daughters recently began the new school year – my first-born skipped happily into grade 2 with legs that I swear grew six inches over the summer and my firecracker took her first bold steps into kindergarten.  I’ve been thinking a lot about the words I want them to hear and carry with them through their school day and the years to come.  It’s a weird thing, to send your tiny people out into the world on their own, without being right by their side to guide and comfort them each stumble along the way. In lieu of shadowing them every minute of their young lives, I have been sharing these thoughts with them in the hope that some will stick.  

You are special

You have a unique set of talents and ideas and the world needs them and you, in full and fearless.  You’ll feel pressured to fall in line and act the same as those around you – to like what they like and say what they say and feel what they feel – but you'll never breathe a full breath speaking into someone else's words, wearing someone else's clothes, following someone else's path.  There has never been anyone just like you in this world and there never will be again.  That’s incredible.  Be proud and celebrate who you are.  

Also, you’re not

Everyone has special talents which deserve the opportunity to shine.  Everyone deserves the chance to learn and to be in the spotlight.  Sometimes it will be someone else’s turn – lots of times it will be someone else’s turn.  This is not only fair but necessary.  We succeed when others do.  We build community and a compassionate heart when we cultivate graciousness.  Be happy for others.  It only adds to your own happiness.  And your turn will come.

There is an infinite amount of success

Someone else’s success does not leave any less for you.  Even if someone else wins the game, is awarded the part you wanted in the play, gets the job of your dreams, there will be other games and other parts and other dream jobs and please believe me when I say that a lot of the time it is for the best because there is something better waiting for you.  There is also an infinite amount of love.  There is no competition necessary for these resources.  They are in abundance.

Being smart is not about being right

In fact, you only become smart by being wrong.  A lot.  Like, seriously, a lot.  It’s only by being wrong that you work to understand why something is right and sometimes – often – being wrong and persevering and working the problem out gets you to a better answer.  And I’ll tell you a secret:  making mistakes can be kind of fun and they make the victory even sweeter.  This is true for life in general, too.

What you think of you is the opinion that matters most

You ask me sometimes if I think you’re beautiful, if you’re smart, if you did a “good job” and you’ve heard me answer your question with a question, time and time again:  What do you think?  I ask that because nobody’s opinion of you is more important than your own opinion of you.  Of course the opinions of others matter some times in some ways but what others think of you, even what your mother thinks of you, should never ever trump what you think of yourself.  That should always be your first question:  What do I think?  If you think you’re beautiful, smart and successful, that’s all that really matters, although the amazing bonus is that if you believe in yourself, others will too.

Look to give love

I’ve said it before and I’m sure I’ll say it again: We have a responsibility to look out for one another.  If you see someone on the sidelines, someone that needs help, someone that needs a friend, please be that friend.  Offer a kind word, a warm smile, invite them to play with you and rate the lunches your dear parents packed for you.  Tell a grown-up if someone needs help.  What a wonderful thing to give your love and friendship.  What a wonderful thing to receive it in return.

Listen to others

But not without question.  Make up your own mind and follow your own sense of what is right and wrong.  But listen to those around you – your teachers, your peers, even your parents once in awhile – because there is something for you to learn from everyone and every experience.  Accept or reject or question what you hear, but listen and think about it.  Talk too.  Others have a lot to learn from you.

Listen to yourself, most of all

Trust your intuition.  If something doesn’t feel right – a situation, a moment, an idea – get away from it and speak up.  You are the boss of you and you have choices and you get to decide what is best for you.  Stand up for what you believe is right.  I will stand up with you and for you, every time.

You are enough as you are

You do not need to get good grades or win awards or become top of anything or DO ANYTHING AT ALL to impress me or anyone else.  You are already impressive.  You are more than enough.  You breathe and you are enough.

I am here for you

Always and without question.  I don’t care how many mistakes you make, how many wrong turns you take, how much you may push me away.  I am here as I will always be, in your corner, ready and willing to do anything and everything for you.  You are loved more than you know and nothing will ever change that.  These arms will always be wide enough to gather up those long legs and these lips will always be ready with a kiss for that curly red noggin.  And this heart will always beat for you.

The Darkness and the Light

Despicable me

This is a picture of me taken in March-ish 2000, at my university department's annual end-of-year celebration.  There was much to celebrate: my classmates and I had just completed the final year of our program and would soon be graduating.  I remember that as a fun night, as we danced and laughed and reminisced about our four years together.

The thing is, this is also a picture of a girl who desperately wanted to die.  

This picture was taken during the worst period of my depression, when I would cry myself to sleep hoping not to wake up, and cry again in the morning when my wish hadn't been granted and I had to face another day.  When I would hear about tragedies - a fatal car accident, a cancer diagnosis, a pedestrian hit by a bus - and wonder why it wasn't me.  Wondered, if there was a God, why He didn't take me when I clearly wanted to go.  Those poor victims, I'd think.  They probably wanted to be here.  

In this way I was, what I would call, passively suicidal.  I courted death but didn't take the matter into my own hands.  But I think that was only a matter of time.  In fact, I would say that had I not received the right help when I did, shortly after this photo was taken, I don't think I would have been around 6 months later.

All this to say two things:

There's this idea some have, I think, that when someone is "really" depressed, it is obvious.  That they're slovenly and distracted and crying all the time and not eating and failing their classes and missing work.  And sometimes that's true.  And sometimes someone will notice.  And sometimes someone will do something to help.  But often, all too often, depression hides its face and stalks in silence, slowly unraveling a person and a life bit by bit.  Because to call attention to itself would be self-defeating.  Depression plays a game of Statues: when someone's looking, it freezes and does everything within its power to remain undetected, something at which it is highly skilled, but as soon as backs are turned and you're alone again, it makes its move.  Hush hush hush, it whispers in your ear when people are around.  Don't tell.  Then as soon as they're gone, it hisses: I will destroy you.  

For depression to survive, it needs its victim to keep quiet.  It's a disease that convinces its victim that it does not exist.  

Think about that for a second.  What a terribly vicious circle.  An abuser who slaps you because you won't stop crying.  A beast sharpening its claws while insisting you're not on the menu.

The girl in this picture who wanted to die got out of bed every day and got dressed and went to every class and got good grades.  I don't think anyone knew, other than my partner at the time who was as supportive as you can be to a person who screams in your face and cries uncontrollably as soon as the front door is closed.  I was once proud that no one knew.  As a Drama student, I thought that the deception that I was happy and all was well was my greatest performance.  But again, that pride was the depression talking.  How can it keep playing if you throw the game?

Hush now, it says.  Don't let them find out how terrible you are.

See, that's the crux of it, that's the thing that someone with depression is trying to keep quiet.  The "truth", as told to you by a hugely persuasive voice that claims authority and who are you to argue because you are a horrible person who doesn't deserve to be here.  

Which leads me to my second point.  There's another idea that some have that suicide is selfish.  I can understand why people say that.  I can understand how those left behind wonder how their loved one could do this to them, could leave them in such pain.  

I can't speak for those who have left. I don't know the particular brands of torment their minds created for them.  But I can tell you that at the height of my illness, when suicide suited up and presented itself as my only saviour, this insidious disease was, in fact, telling me that taking my life was the only way I could redeem myself:  I would save the world from how terrible I was.  I knew that my family and friends didn't see this "truth" about me, but I believed that it was only a matter of time.  I knew that they wouldn't understand, I knew they would be hurt, but I believed that I would cause them more pain if I stayed.  Suicide was the lesser of two evils, my existence being the evil that was insurmountable.  My one gift to the world would be to subtract myself from it.  

So what then?  How do you recognize this beast if it is stalking you?  How do you turn in time to see it move?  How do you notice that it has made another its prey, if it stays so silent?  By no means do I have all the answers but I offer these thoughts for whatever small bit of help or comfort they may provide.

To the last point first, to those who could serve to help others going through this pain:  Be kind.  Not just when a moment presents itself but actively seek out opportunities to treat others, all others, with kindness.  We could all do with more kind words and actions in our days, and for those being subjected to a steady stream of self-hatred, the need is great and your kindness may be the only little bit of it that they receive, or the only little bit of it that gets through.  It may not topple the mountain but it may make the smallest of cracks.  Invite those sitting on the sidelines to join in; whether or not they do, the invitation offers a connection and a choice, two things that can seem vastly out of reach.  Get to know those around you and if you sense that someone might be in need of some help, talk to them and help get them help.  Ask for others to support you in doing that, in finding the right resources.  We have a responsibility to look out for each other.

To those for whom any of my story rang true, those who think they are worthless, who feel that all is dark:  I promise you that there is light.  Your dark thoughts are not you.  You have been hijacked by an other that is self-serving.   Once you catch it moving you'll be able to throw the game by seeing this beast for what it really is:  a sheep in wolf's clothing.  It is nothing without you.  Which means you hold all the power.

This is not to underestimate the work to be done to get it off your back; it can be a difficult journey (for me, the journey included four years on medication and six or so in therapy, and I have to remain vigilant even now).  But you can do it.  There is love and support around you, and help available, and you are stronger than you think.  If I accomplish nothing else with this website, with this life, I hope to stand in testament to the fact that you can make it through, and find peace and health and a life you love.   And immeasurable amounts of joy.  You deserve it.

Me.

And one day you'll look back and the darkness will serve only as a memory which helps the light shine even brighter, and the journey from there to here will have been the great emboldening of you.

And you may even find yourself on a sunny August afternoon pulling your car over on to the shoulder, hopping a fence into a farmer's sun-soaked field, spinning around until you're dizzy and smiling from ear to ear.

And feeling free.