"I'm sorry, I can't be perfect..."

One of my (many) unhealthy behaviors is that I am a perfectionist. I've been this way as long as I can remember: school work, arts and crafts, even music...I push myself to be perfect and get very frustrated with myself if I achieve anything less. Obviously, though, pushing yourself to constantly be perfect is simply an expectation that is impossible to meet and leaves you feeling defeated and desperate. 

So, I've identified some of my unrealistic/unhealthy rules/expectations I have regarding perfectionism. I am working through ways to correct these unrealistic rules to make healthier choices for myself, but it's going to take some time to retrain my brain. These 4 sentences have been carved into my innermost being for so long that I'm not really sure how to ever overcome them...but I will someday. Also, I'm just about to start reading this book and hope it helps even more: https://www.amazon.com/Gifts-Imperfection-Think-Supposed-Embrace/dp/159285849X

MY UNHEALTHY PERFECTIONISM EXPECTATIONS EXPLAINED

Unhealthy #1: "I must always be seen as perfect by others."

As a child, I remember always being the one with my hand raised, ready to answer any question the teacher asked. I remember practicing my flute for hours. I remember angrily throwing away papers I got back that had errors. I remember rewriting notes I took in class to make them look neat and clean. I remember pretending to be sick fora week so I didn't have to go to school and be laughed at because of my clothing. I remember crying when someone would point out my acne or the obvious size differnece in my breasts.

As an adult, I spend time every single day carefully planning out every detail of the day. I plan out what I will say and how I will handle situations, I constantly tell myself "Smile!" as I walk down the hallway or into a store, I always try to say things with positivity and thoughtfulness. I often separate my personal life from my professional with a very thick wall, I often hide my real emotions and thoughts from people, I keep my struggles to myself. Sometimes it's like a Jekyll & Hyde scenario in my head...scary thought, huh?

Healthier Outlook: "I can only try my best, and my best is good enough."

Unhealthy #2: "If I fail, people will judge me or criticize me."

Getting grounded for making a B on your report card sends a message that anything less than perfect is a failure. Giving something your all and it still not being enough to receive recognition can be crushing. Having your flaws constantly pointed out is a painful experience. Nobody likes to fail. Nobody likes being crushed. Really, though, nobody likes being criticized by others.

Just this weekend, for example, it was brought to my attention that several of our neighbors were complaining about the condition of our yard. Yes, I realize we've been so busy with life and the inside of our house that we had failed to weed eat last weekend or the weekend before. Yes, I realize there were 6 newspapers in our driveway and that our trash cans were parked in front of our house instead of on the side. Yes, some of the plants in our garden aren't doing so well. But to have my flaws pointed out was a serious blow. It made me feel like we've failed and now the whole neighborhood is up in arms, ready to strike us.

So, basically I constantly sit in fear that I will make a mistake, that I will fail, and that someone will immediately point it out and remind me in great detail what an epic screw up I am. When I fail, I can just feel the looks: I'm a waste of space, I am not just failing myself but many others, I would be better if I didn't exist anymore if I'm going to continue to make such royal blunders.

Healthier Outlook: "Failure is an opportunity for me to learn or ask others for help. Not everyone is in my life to criticize or judge me; not everyone wants to see me fail."

Unhealthy #3: "My mistakes will cause conflicts or problems for others."

This past week was one example after another of this. Open mouth, insert foot, receive well deserved flogging. My appointments and self care caused me to not be there for my students. My lack of updates on grades is making for many unhappy parents. I had at least one coworker conflict each day last week. I made a huge mistake in some things I said to one of my best friends and basically spent the next 12 hours in constant agony and worry about what was going to happen as a result of my stupidity.

Sometimes I really think people would be better off without me...

Healthier Outlook: "My mistakes can be fixed. The emotions and reactions of others are not something I can control."

Unhealthy #4: "I must know what is going to happen. I must always be in control of situations."

If I am in control, then I can make sure that everything turns out perfectly right in the end. If I know what's going to happen in advance, I can avoid any potential conflicts. If I make the effort to plan, think out every scenario, and work out ways to handle every possible result, then I won't let anyone down by not knowing what to do. If I'm in control, I can protect myself from being hurt again. If I plan out my entire day, my whole week, the next 5 years...then there's no unexpected surprises, there's no major blow ups.

This is so unrealistic though! Who can do that?! What happens as a result then? I end up being very rigid: I struggle with flexibility or going off the books. I don't know how to make quick decisions; I always look to other people so I don't make the wrong choice on my own. I live in a constant fear that something will derail all of my carefully laid plans. I don't ever really live and enjoy the moments because I'm too wrapped up in planning out what comes next.

Healthier Outlook: "It's okay to live in the moment. We can't always plan out everything."

Imagine All the People...The Faces of Mental Illness

I think one of the most insightful realizations over my recent journey through this temporary darkness has been seeing the reality of mental illness. Mental illness doesn't have a type. Mental illness isn't for only the poor, the teens, the uneducated, the neglected child, the girl who was raped...mental illness can hit anyone anytime just like the flu or a heart attack. For every person who gets treatment, there are probably two more who just suffer through and at least one more who commits suicide or overdoses on drugs. A lot of my struggle was that I had this overarching thought that I shouldn't be going through this: not because I didn't deserve it or because I was genuinely better than anyone else going through it, but because of what I felt I had been told or fed through my life and how I was interpreting what people were telling me even now. So, to that, I want to list all the false assumptions that I felt were weighing down on me during this struggle that I'm still working through. I don't think that any of these were direct quotes, but some things that were said to me in some of my darkest moments were heard in ways that made me feel like these things were being said or were the thoughts behind the words.

1) "You are an educated woman. You should know that what you are thinking and doing isn't smart or healthy. You should know how to handle it: you have a college degree!"

Yes, I not only have a college degree, but I graduated cum laude with a degree that required close to 150 hours, lots of performing and practicing beyond all the other coursework, in 4.5 years while working 20+ hours/week at a retail job. I am aware I am smart. I am aware that I should know things. I'm also aware that I've had annual suicide prevention training every year for the last 7 years. But here's the thing: none of that prevents feeling emotions. None of that prevents chemical imbalances. None of that prevents you from having zero self worth. It just doesn't. It does mean that I had the knowledge to recognize the downward spiral I was entering. It does mean that I knew that there are options for help out there. It does mean that I knew that I was suffering from clinical depression. But it doesn't mean that I am immune from it or just should "know better." And if you really thought that, then let's please have a discussion.

2) "If you cared about your children or your husband, you wouldn't be thinking or planning these things. You better believe if I was going through this hard time, I'd be thinking about my kids!You should be setting a better example! You need to get your shit together for your daughters."

I love my children with all my heart. My husband is, in my mind, the one made for me. I can assure you that I give everything I have to give into these 3 people...sometimes at my own personal expense. We all do: anyone with a spouse, with kids, with pets...we all give unconditionally and completely. Sometimes, though, our brain starts to play tricks on us: we see our husband and daughters sleeping sweetly and soundly all together in the queen size bed after we've been selfishly out indulging in a few hours of personal time and we think, "They are so happy, so perfect, so content...they don't need me," or we may start to question, "Maybe I'm what causes there to be moments of unhappiness? Maybe they would be better off without me?" Yes, that's the illness talking. The brain chemicals are full of lies...but in those moments the lies don't seem like lies. Sometimes your version of the truth becomes something vastly different. So yes, I do love my daughters and my husband with all my heart...but that doesn't mean I don't have moments where I think that perhaps showing them love would be to erase myself from their lives. If you think that's total bullshit, then okay. If you think that if you were placed in the shoes I was in 3.5 weeks ago and would have had the ability to stop and question yourself, then I guess you win at life and I am just stupid...oh well.

3) "Aren't you strong? Just suck it up and move on! We all go through hard seasons in life! You just have to go forward and forget about the past!"

This was a tough one that ate away at me almost as much as the previous one. I constantly felt like people were seeing me as weak. I felt like people thought I was just being stupid and not really even trying. I felt like people thought I was choosing to be the way I was. Yes, I did make some choices that weren't smart and showed that my judgement was off, but in some ways I didn't feel like I was in control at all. In some ways I thought strength and control meant punishing myself or showing myself that I could control what happened to me and what I felt by harming myself. There were moments where I would literally fight with myself, sometimes internally and sometimes even externally, to cut or not to cut. It wasn't easy for me. It became so addictive, like a drug or a bottle of Jack...I had to get that fix, I had to feel that control, I had to show myself what I really deserved.

4) "Just lay down your burdens with God. If you really believed in God, you wouldn't be this way. Your faith would protect you. You must not really believe."

This isn't my first dance with the question of faith during times of struggle. In fact, a big part of the reason I took a step back from God back in high school was because I didn't feel worthy, deserving, or that God even cared about me at all. I just assumed I had failed so miserably that I was destined to Hell and I'd been left to fend for myself. But never once did I say, "God doesn't exist." So, when people would say these types of things to me recently, whether they meant their words to have that tone or not, it really hurt me at a deep level. It made me feel like I've not been living the life I try to live everyday. It made me question if I'd been a wicked person to everyone instead of kind, giving, compassionate. It made me wonder if my prayers for others were not enough or if my words just meant nothing to God because I had decided to only ask him to bless others. And if it was these peoples' jobs to be placed into my life to cast stones, then maybe I deserved a painful death even more than I thought. Maybe I didn't even deserve the little bit of God I tried to reach for. Because clearly I was being selfish and wicked in my struggles.

5) "Stop thinking about yourself for a minute. You're risking everything just for your own selfish thoughts. Think about your job, your family, your friends."

If you know me at all, then you would probably describe me as one who is more likely to care about literally everyone else in the world before myself. I'm not saying that to brag, I'm saying that because people have told me this during the last few weeks. So, is that all just fake and I'm really a self centered bitch? Does wanting people to be happy so desperately that you would suffer alone rather than burden them with your troubles mean you are only thinking about yourself? I'm not sure. And if that's the case: I'm sorry. I owe everyone big time if that's the case.

6) "Shouldn't you have grown out of all of this? Adults don't do this crap, they deal with their problems and move on. You are being childish."

Yep, I cut in high school. I went to therapy in high school. But now I'm just over a month shy of being 30...so I should be past all of that "emo kid who shops at Hot Topic" fad, right? Here's the deal, though: for me none of it was ever a fad. It's always been the same: it's been about what a terrible person I am and how I deserve it all. It's been about having that little bit of control. It's been about never really forgiving myself for anything. It's about the weight of a baby growing in your body then dying with no answer as to why besides that your body didn't do its job...just like you didn't do your job of protecting yourself all those years ago. So, if you think I'm being childish, then let's talk so I can understand and stop being that way.

7) "How can you expect anyone else to help you or care if you don't even care about yourself?"

I didn't ask anyone to care or help. I didn't care about myself, so that's right, why should anyone else? I'm still struggling with the why any of you care, but I'm starting to see brief glimpses of what some of you claim to see all the time. I'm starting to have moments where instead of putting myself down, I compliment myself. I actually told someone I was good at math the other day...I admitted I have a skill! So, no, I didn't expect any of you to help or care, but you did anyway. I'll never be able to thank you enough or repay you. But, seriously, thanks.

Great Expectations

Expectations: we all have them. For ourselves, for our coworkers, for our children: all the expectations. Sometimes expectations can be good: they can motivate us, help us set goals, keep us in check. Sometimes, though, we get so wrapped up in what we think expectations are for us that we can get overwhelmed, depressed, anxious, afraid. Sometimes we use the expectations people have for us as something to hide behind, to protect our true self.

I think for me, that many of the expectations I feel are set for me are really just something I've made up in my head. Many of them are deeply rooted, many of them are expectations I've felt a need to continuously meet for as long as I can remember. When I was asked to write out the expectations I feel people have for me or I have for myself on a clay flower pot on Thursday, I found so many words coming to mind: bubbly, always helpful, dedicated, never angry, all knowing, infallible, constantly available, chatty, extroverted, confident, unafraid, organized...I kept writing for what seemed like forever. There are so many expectations I feel I have to meet every single day with everyone in my life: my students & their parents, my coworkers, my husband, my daughters, my family, my friends, myself, my neighbors, the outside world, strangers...everyone is looking at me and expecting things. I feel it constantly, like there's always someone looking at me to see if I'm meeting these things, if I'm being successful.

...Then the real part of the task came: the moment to take the pot outside and smash it...

Once I'd taken all the time to write all these things down, all of these expectations I feel and words that describe what I feel I constantly have to be, I could see myself. These weren't just expectations...these were what I'd worked so hard to be in the eyes of the world. These words were me, whether I liked who I was or not. These words were things everyone I know would list if they were asked to describe me. When I finally threw the pot, heard the sound, and watched it shatter everywhere, I almost had an anxiety attack. I found myself gasping for air, shaking, jittery, fighting an urge to frantically pick up all the pieces and run to find glue and fix the pot before it was too late. I felt like I'd just smashed myself into 1,000 pieces, not just a cheap clay pot.

"You can still be those things sometimes and realize there are other times you won't be. 'Not all the time, not every time.'"

Can I really do that, though? Can I have moments where I am selfish and ungiving, unwilling to help? Can I have days where I don't greet everyone with a smile? Can I get things wrong without consequence? Can I tell people that I'm afraid? Can I take a day to myself and ignore the world just watching Netflix in my pajamas?

Now, what do I expect of other people? I expect people to be human. I expect my students to need help, make mistakes, let me down at times, surprise me at others. I expect my children to make messes and not always clean them up, I expect them to have days where they get in trouble or to get hurt, I expect them to grow before my eyes faster than I ever imagined. I expect my husband to need space at times, to not always handle situations in the most logical way, to show weakness, to be strong, to show me love even at the most random of times, to grumble about the trash but take it out anyway, to try his best to be a good father but not always succeed because he's human. I expect my friends to be there for me but sometimes need a day or two where they don't talk to me and take time to recharge, I expect them to need me sometimes and I need them sometimes, I expect them to always make fun of how I say certain words (like bagel) but always do it in a loving way, I expect them to argue with me when I offer to buy them dinner, I expect us to fight and make up because we all have times where we get angry.

So what do people really expect of me? Are all of those words I feel are constantly needed really what people expect or is it merely an illusion, an alternate reality I've created in my head?

"I just expect you to be who you are."

The real question is, though: who am I really? What is actually me and what is the alternate me I've made to fit into the mold of the expectations from the illusions in my head? I'm sure I will figure that out before I die...because that's still a lengthy, unforeseen point in the future. So for now I'll keep living and keep soul searching...maybe without holding myself to all of the expectations all of the time.

"You weren't smashing away the things that make you who you are--you were smashing away the illusion of expectation that you have to be all of those things all the time." 

Closing Time

Here's my somewhat stream of conscious writing by taking out some of the lyrics to Semisonic's "Closing Time" and writing about the phrase of words. 

"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end..."

It is so important to remember one negative event, one door closing, is not the end all be all. There's always sunshine after the storm; there's always a new day and a new beginning, a fresh start, waiting for us. Losing Rosilyn may have felt like one of the most epic failures of my life. What I'm slowing finding, though, is this heartache is showing me things that would have otherwise gone unnoticed by me.

It's time to forgive myself: not just for the miscarriage but for everything that I've always resented myself for allowing to happen in my life. It's time to release the hate I have for myself. It's time to let this sweet beginning that ended entirely too soon to be a way to begin a new chapter in the book of my life, not to slam it shut with dying!

I'm not entirely sure what all the new beginnings are that will result from this beginning's end. I don't know if we will try to have another baby on our own or consider adoption. I don't know if we will find a way to more permanently memorialize the sweet beginning of life that ended. I don't know if we will eventually consider moving to a larger house, if I will change jobs, if we will ever tell our other two children about what happened...there's a lot of uncertainty at the moment. What I do know, though, is that I will continue to heal and that eventually the new beginnings will start becoming more obvious.

"Time for you to go back to the places you will be from..."

We all have parts of our past that are less than wonderful. Sometimes we are ashamed, sometimes they were painful...so we try to bury them and forget. At times, though, it is necessary for us to go back to these moments. Our past, our memories, they shape who we are today...good, bad, or otherwise.

For me, a lot of looking back at the past connects with that idea of forgiveness. I have carried around so much guilt, blame, and shame over so many parts of my past. Those loads get heavy the longer you carry them...and I'm just not strong enough or willing enough to carry the baggage around for the rest of my life. In order to let go, though, I have to revisit some things and times. Some of them will be easy to look through and discard the garbage; some will be difficult to open up, sort, and decide to part ways. Some of it I may try to stick back in the suitcases I carry and realize it just doesn't fit anymore; some of it has been pulled out so much that it's starting to develop holes and it's time to just toss. All of it requires going back, though...back to the places I came from...back to the memories, events, people who molded me into what I am today.

"So gather up your jackets, move it to the exits, I hope you have found a friend..."

Growing up, I didn't consider myself to have many friends. Those that I did have either took lots of effort to gain or somehow just seemed to come by some odd stroke of good luck. When I look at the friends I have today, though, I can tell you when they each came into my life and often I can tell you specifically why I think they were placed in my life.

I think that sometimes things just click into place. I think that sometimes there's a divine force that helps push us into the directions we need to go. I think that sometimes our prayers and desires get met in mysterious ways that we don't always understand immediately. As we move into the exit from our beginning's end, sometimes the thing we need to bridge the gap or light the way is already there, smiling, waiting for us to talk first. 

My Dance with Death

If you'd asked me two weeks ago if I'd be writing this blog post right now, I would have told you no. If you'd asked me two weeks ago if I'd be listening to the sounds of my husband snore and my two-year-old suck her pacifier, I would have asked you how. If you asked me two weeks ago where is be at this exact moment, I would have told you nowhere. Two weeks ago I was finishing some messages, I was crying, I was contemplating walking out the door of my house with lots of sharp objects and my car keys. Two weeks ago tonight I had every intention of committing suicide.

A lot has happened in the course of two weeks, though. Lives can change in the blink of an eye...and mine certainly did. I faced some hard truths and even harder talks. There was a call to 911 and 6 hours in the ER. There was an ice cream date where my best friend had to tell my husband all the things I'd been holding back. There was a fight. There was heartache. There were purchases and uses of razor blades on my arm. There were therapy sessions. There was the terrible, painful, overwhelming fear that my best friend had finally decided she was done trying to help. There were more suicide plans. There were very pushy, honest, anxiety building talks of what needed to be done for my safety. There were tears. There was a full on panic attack. There was one last beverage with my best friend while we drove to the hospital. Then I said the words that made writing this today possible: "I'd like to voluntarily admit myself for inpatient psychiatric treatment."

I'll probably write another post about all of the details of my 4 nights & 4 days in the Affective Disorders Unit (aka the mood disorder wing) of Trustpoint Hospital, but for now I want to specifically go over how that stay has already started to heal me. I don't even know if I can explain the level of self hatred, guilt, and shame I was feeling before walking into that unit. I had convinced myself that everyone would be better in the aftermath of my death, that I was ruining the lives of so many people by existing, that I was like a poison that was slowly killing those that I loved by continuing to live. I had decided the best things were to start closing off, to stop doing anything, to only occupy my mind with death. And every step of the way, it was all there: that early teenage girl who was called names, laughed at, told to be quiet and let his hands work, that the lies (that weren't lies) needed to stop; that college freshman shaking in her ensemble audition being asked, "Did you look at this at all? Can't you even read music? Why the HELL are you even at this University getting a degree?!"; that mother, waking up to the sight of blood, knowing fully what it was and feeling the worst heartache yet. And all the other memories of myself being vulnerable, beaten down, alone...all of the versions of me that I wanted to take my razor blades and kill...all present and accounted for as usual.

Tonight I have one word: forgiveness. It's time to forgive myself. It's time to release. I forgave Nathan, so why not forgive me? I have long forgotten about all those who bullied me, so why not forget those years all together? If I visit my alma mater and the all powerful Dr. Thomas says hello to me, I grin and say hello back, so why not forgive myself for that anxiety attack at my first time doing something that meaningful to me? I still love having sex with my husband and don't blame his sperm for losing Rosilyn, so why should I continue to blame my body? One of the goals I set for myself while in the hospital was to think about what I need to forgive myself for and write it down. These are only a few of the things my mind wandered into while thinking of when all of this really manifested. It's going to take time and it's going to be more than a little tough, but someday I'm going to forgive myself for it all.

Another goal I set was to try to list positive things about myself. As irony would have it, during one of the group sessions that day we did a sheet about ourselves and trying to build self-esteem. I mentioned my hair, my smile, and my desire to make everyone feel better/to help everyone. I also said that I'm not afraid to wear things that make me stand out. I mentioned that I'd give it all and sacrifice my life to protect my family and my innermost circle of friends. I mentioned lots of things that I see in the people I surround myself with that I call great people...so why was I never seeing them in myself? That's got to start happening! I do have good inside of me, it's time I tell myself that!

Tonight I'm thankful for so much. The most important thing though is that I'm thankful to be alive. My friends and my husband gave me the biggest push of my life...but in the end I was the one who took that final step to save myself. I was terrified, I was hesitant, I wasn't even sure it was the right choice...but I was the one that did it. I was the one that walked in and said, "I'd like to voluntarily admit myself for inpatient psychiatric treatment." And because of me, I am alive.

If You Love Somebody Better Set Them on Fire

A lot happened Friday night. I'd kind of been waiting for it all to explode for weeks now...I knew everyone would reach their breaking point. With my trip to the ER, what I'd been holding back finally started to come to the surface. With my letter to Rosilyn, I decided I was tired of keeping my feelings a secret like I'd been doing for months. With my behaviors over the week, my struggle...my fight with myself that I lost, Friday night was the start of the blaze.

But my intent was never to start these fires. Though I love some people very dearly, my goal has always been to keep them safe from the hell going on inside of me. Somewhere along the way, though, I became selfish: I started relying on people and asking for help to set out the raging fire of hatred inside of me. Unfortunately, instead of us getting the fire under control, they spread and started burning those who were only trying to help.

They say "If you love someone, set them free." So that's my newest plan: I'm going to set everyone free. I'm done sharing, I'm done reaching out. I'm done allowing people to know how bad things are because all it does it make them hurt. It's going to be hard to walk this road alone, but I think that's what is going to be best for everyone involved. I don't know what this road is going to look like or where it is going to lead me, but I do know that I am tired of causing heartache and stress for those that are most near to my heart.

So, my loves...I'm sorry. But know that you are being set free: I won't bother you with my burdens anymore. Enjoy!

Keeping Up Appearances

"Do you think you need to be in the hospital?"

It's a question I've been asked daily over the last two weeks. How to answer that question has wavered in my head but remained the same out loud.

"No, I'm fine."
"No, I don't think so."
"No, not right now."
"No, I don't want to do that."

There have been a few people that I've been trying to stay honest and communicative about how I'm really feeling. Mostly, though, I've been trying to just "keep up appearances." I've continued to work, I've continued to smile and hug my daughters, I've continued to make small talk with strangers and even make jokes at the most scary of times (like in the ER). That's the biggest hold out for me at this point from just taking myself to the psych hospital: I want to maintain normalcy. I don't want my students to have a sub for a week or more. I don't want my daughters to have to ask when mommy gets to come home. I don't want people like the cashier at Publix or the teachers at daycare to ask questions.

Should all of that be my concern at this point? Probably not, but to deny that would be to deny who I am. If I'm completely honest, I don't care about myself. I've never really cared about myself. What I care about is everyone else. My family, my friends...even the cashier at Publix. Am I a person of worth and value? Hell no. Ask me if anyone else in this world is, even people I honestly do not like, and I will say yes...and mean it with every fiber of my being. EVERYONE has WORTH. EVERYONE has VALUE. EVERYONE deserves HAPPINESS.

...except me. I don't care about me.

So, if I don't care about myself, why am I even still alive? Well, it's because of how I feel about everyone else. Trust me, I think about ending my life at least 3 times a day everyday lately. But then I see a picture of my daughters or get a text from one of my best friends. I'll start writing a letter or making a plan. Then my husband sends me a funny GIF or it's time for my next class and I'm greeted by students who are smiling or running to tell me something before class starts.

Is that enough to keep me alive, though? I have times where that answer changes. If I'm completely honest, I think people would be able to easily move on and their lives would get better without me. My husband would be happier and probably find someone more stable. My girls wouldn't be witness to this roller coaster of emotions I'm on or having to ask things like, "What is wrong with your arm, Mommy?" My best friends wouldn't be having anxiety attacks or feeling like they have to constantly be glued to their phones in case I call or text. My students would get a teacher who is actually good at the job and they would improve by huge leaps. There wouldn't be any worry, any pain, any concern, any sadness related to me. I'd be gone and everyone would simply be able to move on with their lives. But, there are moments where people say things that make me realize there would still be pain in my death. It might only last for a little while, but it would still be pain and sadness...which I don't want for anyone. I go to dramatic measures to help keep people happy. I think that's important. I want to listen, I want to help, I want to give gifts, I want to make people smile. Nobody should have to feel pain permanently, and if we all tried to help each other out or show concern for each other, the world would be a much better place.

Do I need to go to the hospital? Based on what I've been reading and researching, yes. But I just don't think I can give up the last bits of normalcy that I'm maintaining. My brain has been chaos for months...it can wait...right?