So today...

Today I found out the a beautiful friend of a friend died. She was a wonderful person with a kind heart and she didn't deserve to die so young. She deserved a long, amazing life. She deserved to be able to go to college and visit all of her high school friends and make new friends. She deserved to fall in love if she would so choose and start a family and if she wanted it. But she can't do any of that. Because she died on May 30th of her senior year in high school.

Please remember that life is worth living. Please remember how much you will touch others with your absence. I barely know this girl, yet my heard bleeds for her absence. The world is the way it is because of each and everyone of us. And when one of us died, the world changes. *








*This post is dedicated to Jennie Dizon. RIP, beautiful.

Labels in general

Labels are so common place now. In every stupid teenage book or movie they have the "cliques" Labeled people that are destined to be in the same label for the rest of their life. Because people don't change right? People stay exactly as they are throughout their entire life.

Ha, no. People change every second. Every year you are a new person. So maybe one year you are a "prep" the next year a "pot head." Labels are supposed to organize our life, but life can't be organized. Life is chaos and that's the way it should be. Labels actually make things more confusing because you meet someone with one impression and you see them again and they are completely different. 

People are people. They are exactly who they need to be, their own unique being. And they are all beautiful no matter what society labels that as. Labels cause us all to judge others before we even get to know them. Here's my advice: learn someones story. Learn their name, not their label. Learn their person, not their "clique." Everyone deserves to be known.

Infographic

Anonymous Story #13

     I can't pin-point one exact day or one exact moment when I realized I was depressed. It was a long, gradual process, and unlike what most people think, I didn't go through some big traumatic experience to make me depressed. I simply feel unsatisfied with life. I feel like I don't belong, like I don't connect with anybody. I'm not the prettiest or the smartest or the nicest or the most popular. I'm just another body floating through Earth with no significant impact. Some people think that teenagers say they are depressed for attention. This misconception makes me so angry. I am by no means sending this for attention or sympathy. Do people actually think I LIKE being depressed? That I enjoy the constant sadness and lack of energy? That crying myself to sleep every night is fun? No. I hate it. I hate the fact that all I can think about is how much I want to die. I hate it I hate it I hate it. Maybe some teenagers say they are depressed because it's a "trend" and they want attention. But you know what, fucking give them that attention because they probably need it. Make them know you care. Because honestly that's all I want- to know that people care about me. That if I died, people would cry for me, go to my funeral, actually give a damn. Because I don't know if life is worth living if I am constantly in pain, and I'm seriously considering just ending it.

Mental Illness in general

If you had a broken femur, would you wait to go to the doctor? Would you say "oh I'm fine, it's all good" or would you say "oh my god someone help me please." Most of us would say the latter. Because that's physical pain. Everyone can see it, everyone knows it's there. And it hurts like hell.

That's like mental illness. Except not. Because when you have a mental illness, no one can tell. No one knows the agony behind it. No one knows how much you need help, even you. And you're stuck sitting around in pure agony because you feel like it'll never get better.

A lot of people think it's their fault that they have a mental illness. But it is not. If you got a cold, would it be your fault? Would you blame yourself? What about if you got cancer? Would that be your fault? Obviously there are things you can do that trigger something like that. But it is NEVER your fault. It is a disorder and a disease.

A lot of people also think they don't need help. That they're fine. That they can handle it. Here's news for you: you can't. You just can't. You need help. You need to talk. And you know what? You deserve to get help.

Mental Illness is one of the hardest things to deal with. It's incredibly hard to get over because a part of your mind doesn't want to lose it. A mental illness screws with your mind and makes you believe things that aren't true, it makes you think thoughts that aren't yours. It's like an autoimmune disease-- your mind is against you. It plays tricks on you and it wants you to fail.

Just remember that recovery is possible. One day, you can get past all the pain and suffering and live the beautiful life you deserve.

Anonymous Story #12

      So here's my story I guess. So it all started when I was in second grade. My uncle touched me and ever since I've always had trust issues. Then in 5th grade I was made fun of a lot. It made me hate school and have constant nightmares. Then when I got to middle school, I was called fat once (overreacted obviously) and was bulimic. I was misdiagnosed with ADD in 6th grade. I was on concerta for about 6 months then my parents took me off it because it wasn't doing anything. I self-harmed for the first time in 8th grade. It was terrifying but the thing is, it didn't hurt. I was so numb that I didn't feel anything. Then freshman year I was diagnosed with depression. I was on medicine (forgot the name) and had a really bad allergic reaction. So I stopped taking medicine. I continued to self-harm up until november of this year. It got pretty bad. I didn't really have friends 8th grade and freshman year so I was always alone. I tried to commit suicide in December. So before I was in the hospital, everything just seemed hopeless. Like everything was downhill. No one liked me, no one cared, and my life wasn't going anywhere. I felt like a disappointment to my family. Like I could never live up to my brother. I know he was the favorite. So I had no purpose. I thought that I'd be helping people if I was dead. One less mouth to feed, one less person to pretend to like. so that's when I decided to swallow a bottle of pills. And then I was in a hospital. The hospital actually felt like a prison. It was SO strict. I had to stick my hand outside my door for them to unlock my bathroom. I was check on every 5 minutes because I was "at risk to myself". At first it was one of the scariest things ever. While in the hospital I had one major break down. It was after my brother called me. I just started screaming "I WANT TO DIE. I WANT TO DIE. I DON'T BELONG HERE. I'M USELESS. I DON'T MEANT ANYTHING TO ANYONE" and I had to be held down and watched for the rest of the night. Everyday was occupied with group therapy and stupid lessons. But in the end it was all very helpful. I was admitted into Linden Oaks. I was there for almost two weeks (which in case you didn't know is really long. the average stay is about 2-4 days). There I was diagnosed with PTSD, Major Depression, and Generalized Anxiety. I was in an outpatient treatment center for almost two months. I went to school every other day for a while. The first day back to school was horrible. I felt so alone still. Outpatient was the best thing I've ever done for myself actually. If it wasn't for all the intensive therapy I wouldn't be alive. I also take a really high dosage of Zoloft. Which is an anti-depressent and anti-anxiety medicine. At school I have an "any-time" pass which allows me to leave class whenever I need. I have some good friends now but I'm still in recovery. I haven't self harmed since December which I think is amazing, considering I think I was addicted. My story isn't that special and probably won't mean a lot to people. But I guess something someone can take from what happened to me, is that things really do get better. So just keep trying. I have to say I am a lot happier than I was a couple months ago. Never give up.

Bullying

So, most people understand that bullying is bad. Every teacher, every speaker that has ever come in, every adult in our lives tells us that bullying is bad. We get it. Enough already.

But I think what has stuck in our brains is how much EVERY SINGLE THING we say can effect everyone around us.

People are dying. People are suffering. All because we couldn't spend a minute to think before we speak.

We make fun of people to seem cool. Anyone that's different gets it, and it doesn't matter what they do, that will never leave them. Words can sting more than a slap. And they stay around for a lot longer.

Please think before you speak. It could keep someone alive.

Anonymous Story #11

      Well, I've had self destructive thoughts my entire life.

Even as a kid I would contemplate suicide, like it was no big deal. I never thought it was a strange thought. Just normal. Like EVERYONE thought about suicide at one point or another.

I listened to my "voices" and I played with them, taunted them by hurting myself, starting in 5th grade. But I stopped and didn't start again until 7th grade. Then again freshman year extending to this year.

My social life? It's a wreck. I hate myself so much that I only feel accepted by sketchy pot addicted stoners, and thieves, and bullies. I cannot stand girls so I only really hang out with guys. I'm pretty sure the only reason I get along with guys is because of my sex appeal, they all want to fuck me. So they keep me around long enough to where they start to like me

I'm bipolar-ish so before my medication I was either in the best mood of my life, or I was about ready to jump off a bridge. Now, my mood is usually at around a 5. because of my mood stabilizers. But god, most of the time, I hate myself to the core of my disgusting self. I'm a lazy selfish liar. And no matter what anyone tells me I wont believe any different. I've survived an attempt on suicide, but I'm still struggling. 

I'm awake but I'm not alive.

Anonymous Story #10

       I have never had a good relationship with food. Ever since I was little, I was a picky eater. That is most likely why my eating disorder went unnoticed for so long. Not only did everyone around me ignore it, but I ignored it for a long time too. Seeing as I never had a big appetite, it didn't seem serious to me when I started cutting down on my meals. Yet, it was much more than that. Cutting down on portion sizes turned into skipping entire meals, daily. Many people describe their problems as snowballing. Mine was more like an avalanche. Everything was slowly piling up, but I didn't realize it until I was buried. I was in too deep. By the time I grasped how serious my problem was, it was out of my control. I was locked in this mental state that I had no hope of changing by myself. It isn't simply, "Just eat." (words of my mother). It is SO much more than that. I reached out to my best friend for help. It helped until I found out that she was seriously struggling with self injury. All of a sudden I took on all of her problems as well. It took me several months of planning how to tell my mom that I wanted help. Finally, one day while getting ready for school, I had a break down. None of my clothes fit me anymore. My smallest jeans were now too loose on me and I looked ridiculous. I was crying to my mom that I didn't want to go to school because none of my clothes fit. From downstairs, she was yelling at me something about how it was my fault because I don't eat. Then, everything just exploded. I sobbed about what I had been doing for so long and screamed at her for not noticing something was wrong. Do you know what she said to me? No. Quit crying. You don't have an eating disorder. I don't remember what I said to convince her that I did have a problem, but she told me that if I thought I really had a problem that she would take me to the hospital right then and there. I was relieved. Then she did a 180. She suddenly got very angry. She sat me down and made me eat a huge breakfast and said she didn't have time to take me there. She drove me to school with my mascara dripping eyes and my churning stomach. It took her another month and a half to finally get me help. We went to several doctors, each of which suggested to put me into a daily program for my ED. I refused. I put my foot down and flat out said to my mom, "if you try and send me there I will kill myself." After weeks of fighting with my doctors, I had no choice. They admitted me into the hospital as a partial time patient. They told me the average time to stay there was 3 weeks. I stayed eight. On my first day, I was terrified. I had no clue what to expect. I was so shy and didn't know what to expect. It only took me a few days to get adjusted. It didn't take long before EDP became my home. I met some of the most amazing people ever, learned a lot about myself, and most importantly I learned that I'm not alone. On my first day, I couldn't wait to get out of there, but now whenever I drive by, I am dying inside wanting to go back to my safe place. I got discharged from the hospital several weeks ago. At first, things seemed to be getting better. I'm starting to struggle again. I am trying my very hardest not to let ED win again. As temping as it is to give in, I can't let that happen. I have so much to fight for. You do too. Please listen to me. Whether your story is similar to mine or completely different, it doesn't matter because you are beautiful and you deserve to be happy. Things don't get better right away and I didn't expect them to. Just hang in there; we can do it.

Black and White Thinking

People in general seem to want a simple way of viewing life. They like rights and wrongs, blacks and whites, goods and bads. But life really doesn't work that way. There is always a grey area.

Let's look at the obvious example: race. Obviously there is more than two races, so why can't that be the case in other situations?

How about gay/straight? There is so much more than that. There's the whole gay umbrella. There's the whole rainbow of colors: bisexual, asexual, transgender, genderqueer, agendered, gender fluid, homosexual, pansexual, lesbian... I could go on.

Then that whole right and wrong thing. There is no "right" and "wrong." There is merely opinion. Who are we to say what is right and what is wrong? Everyone has the right to believe whatever is "right" in their opinion. But then again, maybe I'm wrong about that.

What about good and bad? All of those good vs. evil stories? Yeah. That wouldn't happen. No one is pure evil. In my opinion at least. Everyone has something good in them that makes them a worthwhile, good person. Maybe not the person you want to root for, but the person that has the right to their own opinion.

Life is basically a world of grey. It's something that isn't always pleasant, but often can make a boring day more interesting if you take advantage of it.

Anonymous Story #9

1     In 7th grade, when my sister was leaving for college, I felt left out of my family, so I'd resort to yelling, and screaming, and slamming doors, and hitting my family. My parents sent me to a therapist, but I refused to talk to him. I sat in his office for an hour, staring at the zipper on my coat, while he insulted me. He claimed to be trying to make me mad so I would say something to him, but I just didn't react, except to sit and cry on his couch. After a few months of going nowhere with him, and still being an overall nasty, mean person to my family, he said he just couldn't help. So i stopped getting whatever "help" my parents saw fit.
Everything cooled down when my sister left, at least for a few years. Then, freshman year, I would just get so down about myself, hating how I looked, how I acted, how I was around different people. I had such low self esteem, and two days before Christmas, I cut myself because my friends were hanging out without me, while I had to go to the theater with my family. I had heard about cutting and saw pictures of it on my friend's blog, so I just decided "why the hell not?" Instantly, I was hooked. What some don't understand, is that it's an addiction. I did it frequently, six or seven times a day. While that was happening, I met a boy. He and I were awful together. It was like we fed off of each other's sadness. It was just an unhealthy relationship, where we'd share negative things about ourselves, like we were bragging.
I lasted a few months of self harming in secret before my best friend since preschool saw my arms. She immediately told my parents, and they sent me to a new therapist. After two months with her, she said she couldn't help either, and so my parents thought it would be best if I went to Linden Oaks outpatient. I was in the self harm program, and I met the best people ever there. They supported me through everything I went through with that unhealthy guy, and saved me from feeling hopeless. Two months into that program, I was sent inpatient for being suicidal. I was there for a week, and when I got out, I lasted another month in the outpatient program. When I graduated from it, I was sent back to my freshman year, back to my shitty friends, back to people digging around for the reason I went missing for so long. I was okay for a month of being around the unhealthy guy, but finally, I told him to "stay the fuck away from me." Immediately I went to my school social worker and told her I had a plan to end my life. She called my parents, and by the end of the next day, I was in a different hospital, surrounded by strangers. Inpatient helped a lot, and after a week there, I was in the outpatient program. I was itching to go back to school, since the year was about to end anyway. I graduated that, and finished the remainder of the school year. Meanwhile, I continued to self harm, just not as frequently as before, maybe once every month. Until recently, I was doing okay. But about a month ago, I made the decision to take razors from the store, and use the blades on my body. I've been relapsing everyday for the past week, and I don't know how to stop, or even if I really want to. Self harm is a monster not to be messed with, and I regret doing it the first time. I can't take it back. But you can prevent it from touching your life, by not picking up the blade.

Anonymous Story #8

1    My name is Kerry, I am a 23 year old girl who has struggled with an eating disorder. It all started when I was young and having no control in my life. My parents made all my decisions, from school, who I was allowed to hang out with, to what sports I would play. Nothing was my choice. I didn’t no any other way of life, I just knew my job was to do what I was told to do and be happy. The sad part was, I was never truly happy or myself. I have always just lived a life that my parents thought was best for me. When I was 19 years old I got pregnant by my first boyfriend. All hell broke loose in my house, my parents were disgusted and I was called every name in the book. I was their slutty daughter who got knocked up. I was a disgrace to the family.

Being 19 and pregnant, I was already scared and terrified, but my parent’s reaction did not help at all. I thought we were a conservative and devoted catholic family… Yet I was so wrong. My parents told me I was so have an abortion and to never tell anyone about it. I had yet again no choice in what I was to do with my unborn child. They told me my life was over, I would never finish school, or go anywhere in life. They said abortion was my only option. Having no voice, I did what I was told. I was a wreck I wanted that baby so badly, and love that child to this day. I went in and out of the hospital with pains and very sick. Soon to find out that it was an Ectopic Pregnancy. For those of you who don’t know what that is, it’s when the egg is stuck inside the fallopian tube. I had to have an emergency termination because I was internally bleeding. I thank the lord that he saved that baby that day and took him or her to heaven that way instead of having to know I killed the baby because of my parents. I truly believe everything happens for a reason and I will one day be reunited with my child in Heaven.

That sad event in my life has stuck with me to this day, I have always wanted control in my life, but have never been able to find my voice. I always knew my body was the one thing that I was able to have control over. I began working out. This was my escape and my passion. Biking, running, hiking, and lifting weights, became my life. This is also when my eating disorder took off. I began exercising to relieve stress. I had lots of stress to relieve, so that meant a lot of exercising. I would exercise hours upon hours a day. I loved it, I loved seeing the changes in my body, and getting noticed by others for how I looked. I felt I accomplished something on my own and it was noticed. I was PROUD of how my hard work paid off.

Although to some people I was still not good enough, this is when Norm changed how I viewed myself. Who is Norm? He is a complete ASSHOLE! He is a personal trainer at my old gym. I will never step a foot in the place again. He would see me working out every damn day for hours. Yet, would tell me all the things I had to change to look skinnier and stronger. I thought I was finally happy with my body, I had muscles, a six-pack and I was confident. But, not for long. Norm would tell me I needed to work on my stomach area more and my butt, it wasn’t perky enough, he would say. Fuck him, this made me so angry, and my Eating Disorder became stronger.

I worked out so hard after that, I wanted to show him I can be good enough. I was now working out about three or four hours a day. I was miserable; I just wanted to be accepted for me. I was never good enough. I began taking laxatives and obsessing about what I ate and how much I ate. I wanted all the fat off me, I wanted to disappear. I was able to be away from Norm, because I was back at school in Michigan. Although his words were so deeply embedded in my brain, I kept working my ass off harder and harder. I dropped a huge amount of weight very fast, I was happy I knew I could get the fat off me. But that wasn’t good enough and I kept exercising and not eating and exercising more. I could no longer function. Showering in the morning was a hard thing to do, because I had no strength to stand up for that long and lift my arms up. I drank lots of coffee, diet coke, and laxatives. Food, that didn’t happen. I would only eat the bare minimal just enough to give me energy to get to the gym and I was done. I could no longer sit through a full class without almost passing out or feeling very dizzy. My eyes are always blurry and the headaches were always there.

I became very irritable and would lash out at anyone who would get on my nerves just a little. I was a miserable person to be around. Although one person was with me through it all, my amazing boyfriend. Mark would hold me in his arms when I would just stand in the mirror and cry for hours. He never lost faith in me; he knew one day I would get better and that I needed help. I didn’t think I needed help at first. I just wanted to keep losing more.

In February of 2013, I realized I was sick of being sick, I was sick of crying, sick of people, and sick of not loving myself. I called home and told my family what was going on. They were in shock; they came up the next day and brought me to the doctor on campus. There I was in a room getting test after tests done one me. They were all very scared for me and was advised to go home and get help in a structured facility immediately.

That next week, I was a patient at Linden Oaks hospital. I like to call this place, My Savior. The people here saved me, I wanted to get better, so I did what I was told. We followed a strict meal plan, and went to different Group therapy sessions during the day. I loved it. Yes at times it was very hard. But I knew I was going to get better, I knew I was going to be listened to, and I knew one day everything will be okay. Knowing that others were in the same boat as me made me feel safe and accepted. My therapist and Dietician had faith in me they knew I was going to be successful in treatment. I didn’t want to let them down, I worked hard, I used the skills that I have learned. And today I am on my road to recovery. I have my good and bad days, but I just focus on the positives and know that tomorrow is always a new day and one step closer to recovery.

I am now able to voice my opinion to my family, stand up for my beliefs and it feels amazing. I thank the patients and the staff of Linden Oaks on helping me find myself. I will not let ED take over my life. I am learning that there are other attributes about myself that are worth people loving other than just my body. I am not letting people get to know the real Kerry. Not the disordered Kerry. I am a strong woman, and a loving person who has a lot to offer in life.

Transgender

So, some people don't feel comfortable in their own body. Not because they don't like how it looks, but because they think it is wrong. They feel trapped in the wrong body and everyone tells them to stay that way, stay in the place where they feel trapped all the time.

I wouldn't like that. Would you?

People who are transgender are people just like the rest of us. They love. They live. They laugh. They are no different. Please respect that. If someone you know is transgender, please support them as much as you can. Because my guess is they're having some difficulty with it. But they are still the same beautiful person you first met.

Here's something to start doing, because you never know how someone would like to identify: start asking for people's PGP (preferred gender pronouns) and then comply with whatever they want you to say.

Just remember we're all the same on the inside. We all love, we all hurt, we all laugh, we all cry. Just because someone's gender on the outside doesn't match their gender on the inside, doesn't mean they change when they embrace their true gender. They're personalities match completely. Because they're the same person. They are who they want to be. And whatever makes them happy is what they should do. They'll always be the same person on the inside.

If you are transgender, please know that you are loved and supported here.

ED Revisited

Alright, so I'm coming back to this. Because society is just so damn frustrating. An ED is NOT simple to define. Bulimia isn't just "that one where someone throws up." Yeah, maybe they do. Or maybe they overexercise, maybe they use laxatives, etc. Anorexia isn't just "that one where they don't eat." It's more complicated that that.

And those aren't the only two disorders. There is EDNOS, eating disorder not otherwise specified, that is the most common of all disorders, that encompasses traits from many disorders and mixes them up. It is just as serious as every other ED. There is also Orthorexia, where someone is to the point of severe debilitating obsession over eating healthily.  There is Binge Eating Disorder (BED) in which someone eats a lot without feel like they can stop. Binges may happen multiple times a day or a few times a weeks. Often the sufferer will not eat much in public but eat in private, or vice versa, and that is true of most eating disorder sufferers. They are not simple what so ever.

I've suffered with an eating disorder for a few years and I don't yet understand it. This is a complex disorder with many branches and many different ways of being debilitating. But it always is that way.

So when people say they "tried to be Anorexic" it makes me want to punch them in the uterus. Because you can't "try" to have a disorder. No one wants this. If you had it, you would not want it. It's awful. It's disgusting. It's painful. It ruins your life for the time you have it. Please don't joke about it. People die from this. And others severely suffer. Remember that before you speak.

To submit a story

To submit a story, either comment on a story or email me at changingtobesomething1@outlook.com . I take anonymous stories!!

Anonymous Story #7

1.       I have always been a self-conscious person. When I was little I would pinch my fat and compare myself to everyone else. Any mean thing anyone said to me would resonate in my mind for months to come. But I never did anything about that. Until middle school began, I seemed like a normal child, who ate meals, snacks, and always had seconds. But the low self esteem was there. When middle school began, so did the diets. They always failed, and I was always disappointed. Until my 7th grade year I decided to do something so horrible. I told myself there was no point in feeding your body, because eventually you will become hungry again. And that started the horrible plummet to the second lowest place I have ever been in my life. My parents had no idea what to do, so they would force feed me every day. This was very traumatizing for me for obvious reasons. As I gradually restored the thoughts got worse. "You are fat" "You have no reason to live" "no one will ever love you again" 
I was apparently healthy, but on the inside I was fighting demons...and I was losing. Another year passed, and I reached my lowest place in my life, weight wise, health wise, mentality wise. I just wanted it to end. The pain the suffering. My bones protruded from my skin, yet I couldn't see anything but fat. When my parents put my impatient, I remember crying hystericly the night after, because I was sure my weight had doubled after one day of normalized eating. I couldn't even put on lotion like I did every night because I could feel the "fat" that didn't exist. but things only got better from there. I learned about distortions, and talking back to the thoughts. I forced myself to eat hard foods like pizza, chips, ice cream and more. I chugged my ensures, gagged down my benecals and I was riding high. My thoughts were still there, but I stopped lingering over them. I became obsessed with other things, like making people laugh, boys, school, cello. I know I changed so much within the first week there. I laughed, I talked, I skipped. I was so happy. Suddenly, when I ate, and I was controlling my recovery, I wanted to get better. I wanted this unknown happiness I was getting a glimpse of. When I was discharged, I did not go back to behaviors. I still eat all my meal plan, and I have done so good that my dietician has started taking me off things. Sometimes I feel scared if I am eating a fear food, but I try to enjoy, and afterwards I feel accomplished. I am so happy now, and I never want to go back. Looking back at photos before during and now, I looked beautiful in 6th grade. I wish I could go back to then, and tell myself how gorgeous I am. The photos of during my lows were disgusting. I cannot believe how distorted my thoughts were. Now, my photos are healthy. If I said I liked how I look I would be lieing. But they are pictures of me where I need to be. I am working towards the day where I can take a pic and smile at how beautiful I would think I look. Rachel

Homosexuality

Here's another section of the gay umbrella: Homosexuality. The ability to be attracted to only someone of the same sex.

There's nothing "evil" about it. It is love. Whether it's between two men, two women, or a man and a woman. This topic has been done to death, yet for some reason it still isn't totally acceptable. "Fag" and "Dyke" still roll of people's tongues like it's nothing. "That's so gay" is synonymous with "that's so stupid." Those two have NOTHING to do with each other. Just something to keep in mind. And words really can hurt. If you or someone you know says stuff like that, you have no idea who's hearing it. And it could cause some serious damage. So just be careful of what you're saying.

People who are gay don't have to follow a certain stereotype. Sure, some gay guys are feminine. But also, there are gay guys who are as masculine as you can get. And sure, some lesbiens are "butch." But there are also a ton of lesbiens who prefer to take on a more feminine life. Everything's fine. We're all people. It has nothing to do with your sexuality. It is your personality that matters most.

And also, the "coming out" on facebook? Eh eh. Nope. Not today. It isn't cool. It isn't funny. It just shows everyone how dumb you are. No offense (well, maybe a little bit). Please stop. Only do it if you mean it. Other wise, leave it alone.

Love is love. Please remember that. As long as they love each other, why does it matter? This world needs a little more love and a little less hate.

Anonymous Story #6

     For me it started winter of freshman year 2011. Growing up I was always one of the bigger girls especially surrounded by so many girls who were "perfect" (something which I am still learning today is not true), and it always bothered me, and once the boy who I had liked for 6 years said I was fat and ugly I started to believe it. And My last year of middle was filled with anxiety and uncertainty and I felt like I was losing control of everything. My friends, my life, my family.

     And freshman year, I too was thrown into a life that I was so unaccustomed too. And when I felt like I was losing control or being put down by my friends I turned to binging and purging. At first it seemed so harmless and easy. But I soon learned it was not the case. So a month or two later i turned to an old friend of mine to help, and she told me just stop its not that hard and shrugged it off. She didn't understand. And so it continued and I continuously would tell myself its fine and I would be fine.

     Summer of 2012 I turned from binging and purging as a sense of comfort, to calorie counting and excessive exercise. And became addicted to website promoting Eds and thin-ness. My mother and brother have always been a bit heavy and my sister too was gaining weight. And in my family, gaining weight was a bad thin and that I shouldn't gain anything and so my summer diet went unnoticed. 

     Sophmore year came around and I was fine for a few weeks and getting better on my own. My family had no idea what was going on, and neither did my friends. But then I once again hit a low. My parents where obsessing over my brother and sister and there medical school, and my sisters small weight gain. I felt so unnoticed. And I was again turned to purging as a sense of comfort. And I learned even more how a heavy weight was so excepted in my family when my mom and brother joined weight watchers. Later in the year, I met a boy. Someone so special and close, someone I thought I could be with forever. And soon enough I opened up to him. He was confused and lost and didn't understand. but there was one thing he did understand. He wanted to help me get better. He tried so hard and all I would do is shut him out and refuse help. I was completely in denial of the whole situation. He seemed to lose faith that I could stop and so I tried harder to stop. And I could go maybe a week or two. But then I'd break down and the process would start again. And during this period of time I was called so many names like asshole, bitch, slut, ect. And it only further deteriorated the small self esteem I had left. I've occasionally turned to self harm, and would right those words in pen on my arm and stomach. That boy has since then understood it is a long hard process full of ups and downs and promised to stay with me through it all no matter what. I kept trying, and he soon began giving me the idea about getting help. I was just too scared, and still today I'm scared. But I have opened up to a few more people and those people are the ones who are helping me. 

     However, they are not the ones savings me. I am saving myselft. Even though I am still having the behaviors of Bulima, and still even though my parents and family do not know yet I am still on the verge to recovery. I've been hurt by words, felt like I have no control, and have always been afraid of gaining weight and not being loved because of it. And all these emotions have led to the decisions I've made. But now I am realising dwelling in those few moments of pain, shouldn't have to take away the enjoyment I do have like friends or activities. The pain and confusion of this ED, are not worth the future achievements life gives us. And even though I, like many others, still have behaviors of bulimia, looking for help is the greatest step anyone can have in the fight to reach recovery. And for me, opening up to a friend or parent has been my savior. Now its up to me to complete the path with them by my side. Stay strong to everyone out there who are too following this journey.

Bisexuality

So now we'll take a quick tour of one section of the gay umbrella: Bisexuality.
Bisexuality is the capability of being attracted to two sexes: Male and Female. No, it isn't just "half way out." Yes it actually does exist. No, it isn't "the bridge between gay and straight." When someone who is bisexual dates a someone of the same sex, they are still bisexual. When someone who is bisexual dates someone of the opposite sex, they are still bisexual. Catch my drift?

It a sexuality. It's a life. And it's irritating how often people come out as bisexual just to be "different." That makes it that much harder for those people that are actually bisexual to come out. Because no one take them seriously. They aren't accepted by the straight community, nor the gay because everyone thinks they are attention whores who can't make up their mind.

That is NOT true. For those who are legitimately bisexual, they can't choose to be that way anymore than anyone else can. It's a legitimate life style. Please accept that.

Love is love. That is my stance and if you don't like it, I'm very sorry. Love everyone around you in whatever way you're capable of. That's what I live to do. That's what we all should live to do. Instead of hating on others for loving people in a different way than you, try to love them for being themself.

Anonymous Story #5

1.   This month, May, marks one year since I began to self harm because of my depression and social anxiety. My depression is basically me having thoughts of suicide constantly because I think I'm worthless and that no one even needs me here. That I'm too fat, ugly, stupid, weird and annoying. That everyone, including my friends and family, hate me and wouldn't give me a second thought as soon as they heard I was dead. My social anxiety is well, just that. People terrify me and I can't talk in front of others to save my life. But I've been able to fight them for over a month now. Although I do have those suicidal thoughts every once in awhile throughout the day, I have two things that prevent me from falling back down into the dark hole I once thought I'd never escape. Those two things? My baby nephew and music. They have helped me far more than any friend, social worker or therapist has. And I intend to pull through and win this fight against my depression and anxiety. Because I do not want then controlling my life forever.

Anonymous Story #4

    Back during the summer after seventh grade, I got in a huge fight with my best friend. She was that type of person that could influence everyone's opinion, and as soon as she decided she hated me, all of our other friends started hating me too. I would get calls and text every day telling me that I should die and that I'm a bitch/whore/worthless/fat/ugly. For most of the summer I ignored them, but toward the end I began worrying about school and how it would be since I had classes with some of them. The more I worried, the more numb I became. One day, around a week before eighth grade started, I picked up a thumbtack and cut my wrist. It gave me this surge of feeling and I loved it. It made me feel, so I did it again and again. Over the next few days I would do it a few times a day and it made me happier. 

     Then school started and I began being physically bullied. My old best friend closed my locker on my fingers, pushed me in the halls, tripped me in gym, and just shouted offensive things whenever she would see me. I began being terrified to go to school and would dread every day, so every morning I would cut a little deeper to get me through the day. It went like that all year, and I hated myself so much. All the self-hatred made me lose my appetite, and at one point I would go weeks with just eating a few almonds, or just something small. People eventually noticed and made me eat more, but I hated it. The year ended, but I still cut every few days. My arms, legs, and stomach were full of red lines that just wouldn't get better. 

     Then freshman year started. At the beginning I was happier and eating, and the cuts wouldn't come so often. Things were looking up, but halfway toward the year I had a breakdown. I had voices in my head telling me that no one wanted me, and that I was a burden to my family. I became very depressed again, and the cutting started once more, but this time it was deeper and full of anger. Eventually a friend of mine told my social worker and she started talking to me, and by the end of the year I felt better. 

     Summer came and I was cutting a lot less. My last day of cutting was July 14th. Everything was great for me by that point, until a few weeks ago. I freaked out so much, that I ended up cutting..They weren't bad- they're already almost faded, but I just feel so terrible that I would relapse after so much time. My left arm still has plenty of scars from so long ago, but I'm dealing with them, and I'm trying to be happy and healthy.

Anxiety

So here's the thing about anxiety: everyone experiences it at some point.
Here's how the dictionary defines it: A feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease, typically about an imminent event or something with an uncertain outcome.

But some people experience it a lot, or a lot in certain situations. This is called an anxiety disorder. The most common anxiety disorders are social anxiety and generalized anxiety, but there are many, many other types of anxiety.

With generalized anxiety, people often joke about how people with that disorder can't make a decision, they are always jumpy, etc. It's not funny. It's a serious disorder that impacts people's lives greatly. It's not something to take lightly.

With social anxiety, people often judge those suffering for being shy or quiet. It isn't their fault. They literally don't know what to do with themselves. It isn't funny either, or worth it to judge them on it or try to talk them out of it, because it won't help. It is a disorder. People need to realize that.

Even if someone doesn't have a disorder, they can still have major issues with it occasionally. This is something ever one can understand. Take advantage of that fact, and try to sympathize with those with this type of disorder.

Suicide

Let's talk about suicide. It's not a pleasant topic. Suicide is the worst coping skill there is, it is a last resort when someone thinks that it can never get better. It is a desperately sad thing, and an incredibly destructive event both the the person who commits and the people surrounding.

When someone succeeds it's completely awful, but it's just as awful when some one attempts, or even intends. It is the same mindset every time. It is a similar effect of everyone around that person as well. Because knowing that someone you love wants to die is the worst feeling ever. And knowing that you yourself want to die is just as awful, but for different reasons. For the former, it's awful because there isn't much you can do to make them know how much you love them, how much you care. For the latter, it's horrible because of all the feelings inside. The feeling that you hate yourself and your life so much that you just can't bear to live it anymore.

Suicide is not a joking matter. People say "ugh I'm going to kill myself" joking around, exaggerating, all the time. But there might be someone around that really, legitimately feels that way. Be careful in what you say, and always try to respect the people around you. This is a very serious matter.

Warning signs of Suicide:

• Talking about wanting to die or to kill oneself.
• Looking for a way to kill oneself, such as searching online or buying a gun.
• Talking about feeling hopeless or having no reason to live.
• Talking about feeling trapped or in unbearable pain.
• Talking about being a burden to others.
• Increasing the use of alcohol or drugs.
• Acting anxious or agitated; behaving recklessly.
• Sleeping too little or too much.
• Withdrawn or feeling isolated.
• Showing rage or talking about seeking revenge.
• Displaying extreme mood swings.
• Preoccupation with death.
• Suddenly happier, calmer.
• Loss of interest in things one cares about.
• Visiting or calling people to say goodbye.
• Making arrangements; setting one's affairs in order.
• Giving things away, such as prized possessions.

If you or someone you know is suicidal, PLEASE get help. There is so much to live for. Talk to someone. Things WILL get better. 

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255

Anonymous Story #3

      So, I've been depressed since 7th grade. I remember exactly when it happened. I didn't feel like I amounted to anything at all. I was always helping people with their problems, slowly burying my own deeper and deeper. I didn't know how to deal with any of my problems, so I resorted to cutting. Of course I was only 12 years old, so I didn't know much about it or what I was doing. All I knew was that I should continue it. 

     By 8th grade things started getting worse. I had my first boyfriend who I felt very passionate about, and things were going great. But by the time we broke up I lost all control. I cut again. A lot. And the fact that most of my friends also self harmed, didn't make it any easier to stop. But things did start to get better, for awhile. 

     Then came along high school. Freshman year was pretty difficult for me, trying to figure out where I belong, who I fit in with, trying to make more friends. For awhile, I thought I had it pretty good. I had a boyfriend I thought I loved, my grades weren't too bad, family life was okay and I liked it like that. 

     But as soon as freshman year ended I broke up with my boyfriend for another boy, and the first day of summer I involved myself with this boy. He was my neighbor, and I'd known him for awhile. Throughout the summer, we liked each other. A LOT. Honestly, I didn't think I would ever want to be with anyone else. Before school started, he decided to ask me out. And we dated for a few months. Once again, everything was great. 

     Up until jealousy rolled along. He is probably one of the most stubborn people I will ever meet. He would get jealous of me hanging out, or just simply talking to other guys. This began to become too much for me to handle for me, so I decided to end things. I couldn't actually break up with him on the first time because he literally wouldn't let me. After this, we hated each other, but I thought I was fine with it. I wasn't. Things started to get bad again. I made more self-inflicted cuts. I stopped eating. My depression and anxiety violently worsened. By late November of Sophomore year, I had an eating disorder and bulimia, and I was anorexic. Not exactly what you'd think skin and bones, but I was barely 100 pounds. 

     My sister told my mom about the cuts on my arm. I started going to therapy, joining a group of girls just like me to discuss our problems, and seeing the school social worker weekly. It helped, but not really. Sometimes I'd be sad and not even know why. I would cry in bed for hours, most of the time to sleep. No one cared. No one even asked. 

     That's when I involved myself with drugs. I made a new friend group, who made me really happy. It started with drinking, progressively moving towards drugs. Then more alcohol, and harder drugs were being consumed. When I realized the only reason I was doing it was to escape from reality, that's when I knew it was a problem. But I didn't stop, I didn't want to stop. I could open up to people if I was drunk, or high. I could dance without caring what people thought of me if I was rolling. It made me feel better about myself. I involved myself with a boy from this friend group, who genuinely made me happy, although he's the ultimate druggie and I knew it wasn't the best idea, but I didn't care. I liked him so much, he made me forget all about my summer romance. But a few months passed, and this boy slowly stopped talking to me. And the depression was back again. Soon after, the boy who I'd broken up with came back. I thought he was what I needed. We started to have a thing again, and we liked each other. I didn't think it was anything serious, so I hooked up with someone else. bad decision, he found out, called me a whore along with many other names, and we haven't talked since. So once again, I got back with the one who slowly stopped talking to me, and to this day we sort of have a thing. But not really. I don't know how stupid I could be. I know I'm just a booty call for him, and that's not what I want. I want someone who loves me and is committed to me. I'm blinded by the happiness that I receive when I'm with him. Sometimes I don't know whether I want to kill myself, to take away all this pain and heart break that I have, or try to over come it. 

     They say things will get better, it hasn't. Not for four years. Not to mention my broken family, and how much I've been bullied. I'm scared to walk around my own neighborhood in fear that they'll come out and put me down. I've lost almost all of my friends. I don't know what to do with this cloud of depression that's above me. I know I'm not depression, depression is just something I experience, but I want it to just go away. Prescription pills don't work, drugs only work for a short period of time, so what do I do to become happy? To come out of this shell? When am I going to stop having panic attacks and break down every god damn day? I still do not know the answer to these questions, but I hope someday soon, I will.

Poem by Anonymous

        I Wonder

Pills
strewn across my desk
the lamp shining only on them
I wonder if they can see my face.

Tears
running down my cheek
falling to the carpet
I wonder if it’ll still be wet
when I join them on the floor.

Razors
hidden behind every drawer
stained with my blood
never cleaned
for fear of being seen in the sink
I wonder if they like
the pain they cause me.

Bracelets
so worn
so many
I wonder if they know
why they’re really there.

Walls
standing so tall and strong
watching my every move
I wonder if they care.

Sister
yelling that she doesn’t love me
wishing she could leave
and never speak to me again
I wonder if she knows
how much I wish she felt differently.

Mother
unknowing of my struggle
avoiding interaction
I wonder if she notices the cuts.

Father
left a long time ago
also left last night
again
I wonder if he takes what I said
the night he left
seriously.

Grandparents, aunt, uncles, cousins
so far away
so few interactions
I wonder if they’ll come
to my memorial service.

Friends
dealing with their own shit
looking to me for support
I wonder if they know
that I’m on the edge.

Poem by Anonymous

Reasons to Live

I was going to write a list
of things in this life worth living for
despite having people yell that I’m a whore
despite hours spent
crying on the floor
feeling ignored
but every reason I think of seems piss poor
when no one hears me when I cry
people say they couldn’t care if I died
it’s hard to “see the light”
when depression is like
an endless night
I’m tired.
Not the kind of tired
I can sleep off
the kind I need a cliff to jump off
keep the lamp switched off
so the haters will lay off
I can’t keep goofing off
I can’t walk it off
I can’t turn it off
the only reason I’m still living
is because I don’t want
to cause other people pain
and I’m the only thing standing between
my friend and his addiction to cocaine
I don’t want her to think of me
staring out at the rain
imagining everyone else she’s lost
I won’t add on
to that grief that can’t be slain
but I’m having trouble staying sane
I don’t know how much longer I can feign
being strong
being okay
I’m not okay
and I can get help
because it doesn’t stick
I can’t just lick
my wounds
brush off the words
of that dick
telling my I’m thick
not realizing I’m sick
and he’s making it worse
I don’t want to live
I’m sharpening the shiv
I’ve nothing left to give
and it’s killing me

Self Harm

Since several of our stories have included self harm, or self injury, it's something I think I should cover as well. It's become almost a fad to self harm, especially cutting. I'm not really sure what to think about it.

You see, self harm is something that a lot of people do as a coping mechanism. It helps take away from the internal pain that builds up inside. It is a temporary relief, something similar to drugs and alcoholism and even an eating disorder. 

A lot of people think that self injury is an attention seeking behavior. For some people, it might be. Plain and simple. But if they want attention and they're willing to hurt themselves for it, then they obviously need the attention. And a lot of the times, it is a completely personal en devour. It is a way to try and block out the pain.

It makes me so mad when people make fun of people for self harm. Please, think before you speak. You never know what someone is suffering from.

                                               

                                                              How to treat someone who self harms:

DO NOT treat them like they are something disgusting. They need help and love.
DO NOT minimalize it. No matter what the self harm is, they deserve that help.
DO treat them with respect.
DO try to help them by making sure they don't have easy access to self harm tools.

How to help yourself if you self harm:
DO NOT minimalize it. It IS a big deal
DO NOT think worse of yourself because you've done it. You are not a bad person. You just need help. Please get it. 
DO try to keep your tools out of reach
DO reach out for help!!

Anonymous Story #2

I estimate my depression started in sixth grade around the time of my first breakdown/existential crisis. I didn’t know what it was at the time, I thought it was normal to feel sad all the time, to feel like I didn’t know why I was here, to feel like there was no point in living at all, especially since I never believed in God and had no faith like that to really hold onto.

I started therapy soon after the whole ordeal triggering that breakdown. I wasn’t diagnosed with depression and therapy seemed to help for the most part until I started refusing to go toward the end of seventh grade.
I didn’t have any more major episodes until the summer after my freshman year when I attempted suicide because I was getting death threats and my friends all stopped talking to me after a pretty bad break-up with my girlfriend. I was asleep for three days and violently purged for a few days after. Nobody knew until long after the incident so I didn’t get any help at the time.
Winter break of my sophomore year I started cutting regularly for the first time. It got progressively worse but I didn’t feel the need to get any help until I started talking to a friend again for the first time since we broke up and found that she was addicted to cutting. Her self-harm was much worse than mine and she knew she needed help and that helped me realize I needed help too, if nothing else than to make sure it didn’t as bad as her.
It took me a couple weeks to get up the courage to ask my mom to take me to get admitted to a psychiatric ward at the hospital nearby but once I did I was admitted as an in-patient for all of spring break and for the first time was diagnosed with depression and was put on a low dose of Zolaft.
I got out of the hospital and Zolaft helped somewhat, but a side effect was an aggressive nausea that kept me from eating. At the time I didn’t feel like Zolaft was changing my depression at all so I decided to go off it for a few days. My appetite returned but my depression that was still pretty bad on the medication got much worse and I became extremely suicidal and started cutting again.

Because I was still on a waiting list for a psychiatrist and there was no way to change my medication, I had two choices: stay off my meds and stay suicidal but be able to eat or to go back on my meds, still be slightly depressed but not suicidal and not be able to eat. I decided the latter was the lesser of two evils and went back on my meds.
I am currently still on the waiting list for a psychiatrist, on my meds, eating once a day only because I force myself, not because I am at all hungry, and I keep a razor under my pillow because I get very anxious without one even if I’m not cutting, but I have some desire to live which at this point is the most important.

Anonymous Story #1

I've known I was Bisexual since I was probably in the 6th grade but had never really put it out in the open until 2013 and for those few years I had kept it a secret. I felt like it was just another burden for me to carry. I felt like it was just another reason for people to judge me as if they didnt already have enough reasons to. Along with having to keep that secret it just made my depression and self injury worse because I felt like I should be straight, like that would bring me a step closer to perfection. I was so convinced that if people found out they would make fun of me and judge me those thoughts pushed me to the point where I wanted to end my life so badly. But after going to Linden Oaks I realized there are good people out there, and so what if I like boys AND girls? It doesn't make me any less of a person. Now that most of my friends know, I realized I had no reason to fear peoples reactions because the only important thing was that I did have people who supported me and made me happy.

Stories

I will be posting a number of peoples real personal stories. All anonymous, but all real. Please be respectful. You'll get to see their life through this page. I'll post them along with the informational posts I've done already.

Depression

Again, another topic made into a joke by society. How many times a day do you hear "Oh my god, I'm so depressed" when most likely they're just feeling a little down for a moment. 
Here's what the dictionary defines depression as:
1.Severe despondency and dejection, accompanied by feelings of hopelessness and inadequacy.
2. A condition of mental disturbance, typically with lack of energy and difficulty in maintaining concentration or interest in life.

Yeah, that's what it is. Kind of. Much better than the Ed description. But the problem is, you can't describe something like depression in 20 words or less. It's so much more complex. And sooo much more serious than some people realize. The hopelessness, the inadequacy-- that's a constant. The lack of energy can vary.

But what people really don't get is that depression is not another word for sad. Sad is a momentary emotion. Depression is a much longer affliction. There doesn't need to be a cause for depression. Sometimes it just starts. And someone with depression can't just "get better" "be happy." It's so much more than that. It's an hormone imbalance, it's a huge event in someone's life that has flipped life upside down. It's something much more than a passing emotion.

Another issues people don't understand is a person does not have to always look sad if they have depression. They can smile, they can laugh, they can fake it. People with depression often fake it so well.

I guess what I'm trying to say is you never know what someone's going through, so always be care. Depression can lead to self injury and suicide, two things that no one should have to go through or watch someone go through.

How to treat someone with depression:
DO NOT try to be their therapist. They should get a real therapist who is professionally trained. 
DO NOT pretend it is smaller than it is. Depression is a huge issue that should not go unacknowledged
DO NOT lie to them and say "everything will be alright" because they probably won't believe that, and lying is never the way to go anyway. 
DO be there for them.
DO let them know you are there for them, no matter what. But only if it's true. 

How to deal with your depression:
DO NOT push it away and pretend it's not there
DO NOT isolate. 
DO get help. Please. You deserve it. 

USA Suicide Hotline: 1-800-273-TALK
                                    1-800-273-8255

                                    1-800-SUICIDE
                                    1-800-784-2433

Eating Disorders

Let's start out with this one. This one, so close to my heart, that no one seems to understand. Here's how the dictionary defines it: Any of a range of psychological disorders characterized by abnormal or disturbed eating habits (such as anorexia nervosa).

Pretty cut and dry. Like it's that simple to define. Yet, while defining it, they really say nothing about it. Because it isn't about the eating. That's just an after effect. An eating disorder is truly a disorder of the self esteem and of coping skills. It's similar to self injury, drug addiction, and alcoholism. It's a way to cope with the whirlwind that is life. Eating disorders come with a disgusting little voice in one's head, telling one nasty things about oneself. Believing it is natural, because it comes from one's own mind, right? Wrong. it comes from that nasty little Ed. He makes up awful things that make a person believe he/she/etc do not belong, they are not good enough, they need to be perfect, if they eat they are a failure, etc. It's so much more mental than physical. Coming from someone who has suffered from this disorder for years, I can tell you all it is so much more than just eating.

Also, let's get past that stereotypical white, upper class girl who just wants to get skinny. That is not the only person that has an eating disorder. I've never met anyone like that who has an eating disorder. It comes from deeper problems. And not just white girls get them. Not just upper class people get them. Black girls get them. Guys get them. People who are overweight can have eating disorders. You really can't tell. Everyone can get one. It isn't just teenagers either. I've met 11 year olds with severe disorders. I also have met people in their 40s, 50s, still dealing with it. There isn't a "type." There is just a disease. 

Here's how to help your loved one if they might have an eating disorder:

• DO NOT comment on their appearance. At all. Maybe tell them they're beautiful. But that's it.
• DO NOT pretend it's so simple to get over. Because it IS NOT.
• DO NOT pretend nothing's wrong. Get the help. ASAP. 
• DO tell them you love them.
• DO respect that they will have slips, and help them get over them.
• DO encourage them, but remember that this is their battle.
• DO stay on their side, be there for whatever they need you for, listen to them when they say something. It IS a big deal. It IS difficult. 

Here's how to help yourself if you might have an eating disorder:

• DO NOT believe Ed. He's stupid. You're beautiful.
• DO NOT stay silent. You need help, and you deserve it.
• DO NOT let others make you feel that you don't deserve help. You are worth while.
• DO love yourself.
• DO let yourself make mistakes, and recover from them.
• DO stay positive, as much as you can.
• DO GET HELP

This is a hell of a disorder to get over. But recovery is possible. Please get help. http://www.anad.org/
http://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/