With the holiday and my husband and my anniversary falling on Easter I was unable to write a blog post. Here’s a old one. I hope you enjoy it.
In many of my blogs, I mentioned determination, but I have not talked about what determination is. How do you define determination? Is it the ability to make it through one more day of sadness? Is it the choice to face daily struggles? Is it the ability to stand up to life’s challenges? Or is it how you stand up to all of these challenges?
To me determination is to face life’s challenges with all the strength and willpower within you. It’s not giving up when everything around you seems dark and hopeless. It’s pushing forward when you feel as if you cannot go on anymore. It’s surpassing all odds and reaching forward when others have lost faith in you. Determination is the key to recovery from many disabilities, illness, and specially mental illness.
In grade school and high school, I struggled with a learning disability. My classmates and teachers thought I wasn’t smart enough to pass my classes or to have a future. In elementary my school teachers assigned a student to give me answers on tests. I was told that I would be pushed from one grade to the next because I couldn’t pass on my own. I decided to prove to them I could pass my classes on my own. In high school, I found ways to work around my disability and pass my classes with A’s. I pushed forward against all odds and graduated with scholarships and honors. I decided I was going to prove to my classmates, teachers, and the world I was not stupid. With determination, I went to college, earned a degree, and held a job for twenty-four years.
I applied this same determination to my mental illness. My life seemed hopeless and the dark hole endless. I lost faith in myself and when I was hospitalized, I dug deep down inside for the strength to climb out of the hole. I decided I did not want to live my life in darkness. I wanted to find happiness and to live a normal life. I felt like I was dying inside, but I pushed through it to reach towards the light. I mustered up all the strength I could to stand up to my illness. I pushed onward even though I could barely get out of bed or face the next day. It was the hardest challenge I ever had to face, but with determination, I reached recovery.
I’m now using all my inner strength to face physical health problems and to keep within the light. It would be easy to get depressed at the thought of facing another surgery and waking up each day with pain, but I will push forward.
It’s determination that has helped me through all my life challenges and has helped me grow into the person I am. If you’re not determined enough to stand up to your illness against all odds, then you’ll sit at the bottom of the hole in complete darkness. Stand up, take control of your life and your illness. Push forward against all odds and climb the walls of the hole. Because of my determination, I stand at the top of the hole and I bathe in the light of happiness.
Many of us have long stories of the trials and tribulations we have been through in our lives. Some dwell on the pain they suffered and find their lives at a standstill. Then there are others who lift themselves up and use their experiences to change others’ lives and to make the world a better place. Alexander Kovarovic honors such people with a special award called Saving Lives. He calls these people heroes and they are. They are saving people’s lives by the work they do.
I struggled through many challenges in my life and I rose above them. I struggled through mental illness, bullying, abuse, and breast cancer. Through my struggles I lost faith in my ability to write. When I was at the worst time of my mental illness I gave up writing for a while. I thought of myself as a failure. I told everyone I wasn’t meant to write a book. I gave up on myself. I lost the will to live.
I spent many years of my life suffering in silence. In school while being bullied, I only spoke when I had to. While I struggled with mental illness in college, I told only one person in letters. I spent many years feeling like my life would never get better. I felt hopeless.
I asked over and over, “Why me?”
When I was abused by a person who was supposed to be my friend, I asked, “Why me?”
When my boyfriend whom I was living with abused me and I fell deeper into my mental illness, I asked, “Why me?”
Over and over again while I faced these awful tribulations in my life, I kept asking that same question with no answer.
Then God whispered an answer in my ear, “I helped you rise above your trials to help others through your experiences. Your suffering wasn’t for nothing. Good comes from the bad.”
For a while I struggled with how I could help others. How could I tell my story of falling to the depths of darkness and rising above? How could I use what I have been through to help others? I was stumped. I started writing again. I tried writing fictional short stories, but I just couldn’t seem to get them right. I wrote humor and I was successful at making people laugh, but God whispered to me, “Your writing is meant to help others in a bigger way.”
Then I heard people in my writing Group, Pennwriters, talk about writing blogs. I decided to write a blog about recovery from mental illness. In 2014 I began this blog you are reading now, Finding the Light. But that didn’t seem like enough. I needed to help more people. I decide I could help others with my experiences and what I have learned in more ways. So I began writing my memoir about how I was bullied in school and found love and acceptance at the family garage. Then I went through breast cancer and put my memoir on hold. My blog suddenly became about recovery from mental illness and breast cancer.
I realized God wanted me to help people through my writing, but God had more plans for me. After I posted on a depression and bullying support group, Alex Kovarovic asked me to write for his organization, and in time he asked me to be the assistant to the director. Alex gave me the opportunity to help more people in different ways than just through my writing. I am helping teens through my work for the National Youth Internet Safety and Cyberbullying Taskforce. I have been helping them with an event, interviewing volunteers, advertising, and getting donations.
Last month I was interviewed for the news about being an advocate against bullying, my stories being published in Alexander Kovarovic’s book, Change Your life, and my own personal story of how I was bullied. My customers who saw the story hugged me and praised me for my work. I felt like I really made a difference.
This weekend I was interviewed for the news again for my advocacy and work for the Taskforce. Then Alex presented me with the Saving Lives award and I gave a speech about my experiences. I stood before 42 people telling my story and I felt like this was what God had planned for me. He not only wanted me to help through my writing, but through the Taskforce and by telling my story.
I rose above my struggles to help others and to share my story. God makes good out of the bad. God turned my bad experiences into a tool I could use to make a difference in others lives. I don’t think of myself as a hero, but just a simple person who found her purpose in life.
If you are struggling, know that God will help you rise above it. Don’t let your challenges leave you in a rut. Use them for good. Rise above and help others. Use what you have been through in some way to do good and to touch the world. Rise above the pain, the tears, the struggles, and bad times to help others who are going through what you have been through. Write a blog or book, start a support group, be a volunteer, and so on.
This weekend I received an award for my work and my husband threw me a cancer-free party. I am celebrating my ability to rise above my tribulations and the gift God gave me to be able to help others. Because I am able to help others, I am floating in the light of recovery.
When we are going through tough times, we have things we do or even something material that brings us comfort. Some have hobbies that bring them comfort, some find snuggling a stuffed animal brings them comfort, and some have a special object. When we are kids, we find comfort when afraid of monsters in the closet and the outside world in a special toy, a blanket, or even a pillow. Whatever you use to help ease your worrisome and troubled soul is important to you and is a part of your own coping technique. Just be sure your tools are healthy ones. Unhealthy tools are drugs and alcohol.
How many of you watched the Dumbo cartoon movie as a child? I fell in love with the movie when I was a child. I related to Dumbo. He was teased for his big ears and I was teased for being learning disabled. I knew the agony he was feeling when his own kind laughed at him. I felt the same. We were both different. His mother tried to protect him, like my mom did. My mom fought with the school, trying to get me proper help and telling teachers I wasn’t hopeless. Dumbo’s mom was labeled a mad elephant for causing chaos to protect her son, and often my mom’s fight for me fell upon deaf ears.
I don’t remember what age I was when I fell in love with that cute elephant with big ears, but I was young. One Christmas I asked Santa to bring me a stuffed Dumbo for Christmas. I got a stuffed elephant with ears not as big as Dumbo’s, but I didn’t even notice. I loved my stuffed animal. He became my best friend and my tool of comfort. I took him to bed every night.
The constant teasing I faced in school and the put downs by my teachers slowly led me into darkness. I began to have problems sleeping at night. I was plagued with night-mares and I worried about going to school the next day. I feared the darkness of the night. I lined my bed with stuffed animals. My mom wondered how I found enough room to lie down in my bed. I snuggled my Dumbo tight to my chest.
My elephant became my tool of comfort. I couldn’t go to bed without him. He made me feel safe. I squeezed him tight when I had night-mares and when I couldn’t sleep I snuggled with him and talked to him until I fell asleep. After a rough day at school, I sat in my room cuddling with my Dumbo until the tears went away. He became my best friend when I didn’t have one. I played with him, I cuddled him, and I confided in him. He was more than a stuffed animal to me.
Recently my husband took me to see the new movie that just came out of Dumbo. Soon as it came out, I told my husband all about my toy and how much he meant to me. So last Sunday I got a day off and my husband took me to the movie. He wanted to buy me a stuffed Dumbo, but they were all out. He was able to get me a mug instead.
The movie brought back old memories. I was relived my childhood through the movie. That night we were able to find a stuffed Dumbo online and we ordered it. The next morning I searched our attic and found my old stuffed elephant from my childhood. I began thinking about how much that stuffed elephant gave me comfort and I began thinking about my tools of comfort that I have as an adult.
I no longer sleep with stuffed animals to get through the night. Instead I find comfort in my husband’s arms. When times are tough, I talk to my friends or I text them. I have my own support team: my husband, my parents, and my friends. The other day my friend Amy talked me through an anxiety attack. She, like my other friends, used what she learned from my blogs to help me.
I have found comfort in my dogs. I’ve had four different dogs in my adult years and each one brought me comfort in it’s own way. The dog I have now, Esther, likes to snuggle on my lap. When I went through surgery for a detached tendon, she didn’t leave my side. When I went through breast cancer, she stayed close. When I’m feeling down, she lies on my lap and nuzzles my hand with her nose until I pet her.
Our tools of comfort help us cope with a harsh world and awful illnesses like mental illness, breast cancer, and so on. While dealing with chronic pain and other health problems my friend Cheryl finds comfort in taking pictures of birds. A young coworker carries a piece of a toy around with him. It gives him comfort when he’s stressed and anxious.
Find your tools of comfort to help you with your struggles. Jog, talk to friends, do crafts, sleep with a teddy bear, snuggle up with a pet, cuddle a special pillow, or play with a toy. Find whatever it is that helps you cope with mental illness, breast cancer, life, and so on. Whatever it is that helps you deal with the struggles you face in life, use it.
I use my tools of comfort to face many trials in my life. I found comfort in digging up my old childhood treasure and remembering how important he was to little Aimee. I know there will be ups and downs in life and my tools of comfort will help me bathe in the light of recovery.
The mind is a very powerful part of a person. It’s the mind and the knowledge we collect within it that help us build our lives and our future. Within our mind is intellect, knowledge, thought processes, decision making, creativity, and much more. Of course, the mind is a part of the brain. It’s one of the many functions of the brain. What happens to the mind when small worries and fears grow and grow until they become huge? An anxious mind can be overpowering and debilitating. Anxiety affects the mind and the whole body.
My anxiety hit me powerfully in college when I fell to the rock bottom of my depression. I lost my cousin in a car accident my senior year of high school and I moved forty-five minutes from my home to live with my grandparents to be closer to college. My friend took notes I wrote her, telling her my deepest feelings and my need for comfort, to her mom and a teacher I had in school. My friend’s mother forbade her to see me, but she snuck out and began abusing me. On top of that, it was stuck in my mind that my grades had to be high because I had to prove to all those who thought I couldn’t do anything that I could succeed.
In the mornings before college the worrying and fears started.
I spent hours doing my homework and studying. I have to get a good grade. I can’t be a failure. I can’t let everyone be right about me. I’m so tired. What if I fall asleep in class? I didn’t study enough. I should have studied longer. I don’t remember what I studied. I forgot everything. I spent hours studying for nothing. I can’t go to classes. I don’t even remember the chapters I read last night.
I started feeling nauseous. I began to dry heave.
What am I doing in college? I’ll just fail. I hurt my friend with my notes and I’m messing up my one chance to prove myself. Everything in my life is going wrong. I can’t go to my classes. I feel sick. I can’t do anything right. I need to study more. I have to get a high grade. I’m not ready. I need more time. I’m going to fail out of college.
My anxiety kept building as my mind made a small thing like getting a good grade on a homework or test into something huge. The more I worried about my grades in college, the more my body reacted. It started with nausea, dry heaves, and then getting sick. I got sick every morning before class, in between classes, and when I went to see my friend.
At the time I didn’t understand what was happening to my body. My mom took me to a doctor and he gave me anti-nausea medication, but that didn’t even work. The anxiety didn’t stop until I moved back home and began therapy and the abusive friend moved away.
It wasn’t until many years later I learned what anxiety was. I was happily married, I had been working the same job for several years, and I was managing my illness, yet the nausea, dry heaves and throwing up started up again. Doctors did many tests and found nothing wrong with me. My doctor told me he believed I was having anxiety attacks. I thought he wasn’t taking my problem seriously and he was blaming my mental illness on an illness he couldn’t explain, but when I talked to my therapist, I realized my doctor was right. I started journaling my thoughts.
During a normal work day my worries turned to fears and grew throughout the day. It started in the morning before work.
I have to catch the bus on time. I can’t be late. I can’t be late for work. I hope I don’t make a mistake at work. We can’t afford for me to get fired. We’d lose everything if I’m not working. It takes both of our paychecks to pay our bills. If we can’t pay our bills we’d lose our home and everything.
By the middle of my day I was fighting nausea and dry heaves. The worries grew and grew. I began to fear throughout my day that I would make a big mistake and by the end of the day I’d have no job. My body reacted as the anxiety took over. I would fight my dry heaves until I had to get off register to get sick in the bathroom. The worries continued after work. I worried about not having enough money to pay our bills and to make it through the week. My anxious mind overpowered my body, my thoughts, and my feelings.
Anti-anxiety medication helped a lot, but I also had to practice relaxing techniques like deep breathing, listening to soft music, and doing something I enjoyed. I also had to learn to identify my worries and take control of them before they overtook me. Recently my best friend Cheryl sent me a post about grounding. Now I keep the grounding techniques on my phone and when my anxious mind becomes overpowering, I use them.
If your anxious mind is overpowering, talk to your doctor or psychiatrist about anti-anxiety medications and talk to a therapist about coping and relaxation techniques. Learn to identify your worries and fears, then work on ways to stop them from getting bigger and bigger. When the worry starts, tell yourself, “Stop. You have worried enough. Now focus on something else.”
Try grounding techniques like: look around you, find five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste. Find this and more grounding techniques at https://www.redorbit.com/grounding-techniques-for-anxiety/.
With the help of medication, grounding techniques, and relaxation methods, my anxiety is pretty much under control. Sometimes it gets the best of me, but because I’m willing to fight it, my anxious mind no longer overpowers my life. Since I’m willing to work hard to calm my anxiety, I strive within the light of recovery.
Many who have lost someone to suicide or know someone who is suicidal wonder what goes on within the person’s mind. What was he or she thinking? Why didn’t he or she ask for help? Why would anybody want to take his or her own life? The questions are endless. I can’t answer them all for you, but in this post I am going to digress back into my frame of thinking when I was at the point I just wanted to end it all. This may answer some of your questions and it may be hard to read, but it is important.
I’m going back to when I was in college. I was living with my grandparents, a friend was abusing me, and my cousin was killed in a car accident just before I graduated from high school. I had hit rock bottom of my depression.
I can’t take it anymore. I feel so awful. Why do I have to go on like this? Oh God, I hurt so badly. I just want to be happy. I can’t sleep. I just want to sleep. I can’t breathe, I can’t keep food down, and I just want these feelings in me to stop.
GOD, WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME? WHY DO I FEEL SO MUCH PAIN? PLEASE STOP THIS. JUST LET ME DIE. PLEASE LET ME DIE. DO YOU HEAR ME, GOD? DO YOU EVEN EXIST? I HATE YOU FOR MAKING ME SUFFER.
I fall to my knees while tears stream from my eyes. My screams of agony are silent. I hold a bottle of pills in my hand.
My life is worthless. I am no good. I have failed my parents and my grandparents. I just wanted someone to care, but I’m not sure my friend really cares. She has ruined me and I let her. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have told her everything in my letters, I shouldn’t have let her do those things and if I was better she would have been nicer.
I’m all alone. I can’t tell my parents. They wouldn’t understand. I don’t even understand what is happening to me. If I tell them I would only hurt them. I can’t tell Grandma and Grandpa. They love having me here. If they knew how I feel it would hurt them. I’m destroying their lives by being alive. They will all be better off and happier if I was gone.
I just have to end it now. How will I do it? I could swallow this bottle of pills; I could drive my car in front of a semi or cut my wrist.
I looked around my room for something sharp. All I could find was a razor blade. I held the razor blade and bottle of pills in my hand. Tears poured from my eyes. My body shook and I curled up in a ball.
I just want to be free. I want to be happy. I want my insides to stop hurting. Oh, God, do I hurt inside. I can’t stop my damn thoughts. They go on and on. It feels like my heart is going to explode. There is no way out. I can’t make these feelings and thoughts stop. I can’t live like this anymore. I tried everything. I cut myself, I tried a sleeping pill, and I tried to be happy. It doesn’t work. Nothing works. I have to die and be with my cousin.
WHY GOD, DID YOU TAKE MY COUSIN AND LET ME LIVE? IF YOU WON’T TAKE ME, THEN I’LL END MY LIFE MYSELF.
I grabbed a glass of water from my bed stand. I pour a handful of pills out.
My family will not be burdened by me anymore. I won’t hurt them by my miserable existence. I have to leave them a note. I have to let them know I will be better off.
I grabbed a nearby pen and notebook and I write.
Dear Mom, Dad, Grandma and Grandpa,
I’m sorry for being a big mistake and destroying your lives. Now you won’t have to worry about me anymore. I love you all, but I had to go. I had to end the pain. Write on my grave “Let her be free.” I’ll see you some day in heaven.
Aimee
Okay, I’ll just swallow the pills and I’ll be happy again. I’ll see my cousin. Soon this pain will be all over and my family won’t ever have to worry about me again. No one will hurt me again. I won’t be alone anymore. These horrible feelings in me will end.
I took the handful of pills that night. I was groggy and dizzy, but somehow I safely drove to a night class at college and home. Even though I wanted to die and I thought it was the only answer, God wanted me to live more. He kept me alive to tell you my story, to watch my nieces and nephews grow up, to marry my soulmate, to write my memoir, to write this blog, to work with customers for 23 and a half years.
If I had died I would have never been published in newspapers, magazines and in Alexander Kovarovic’s book, Change Your Life. If I had succeeded at taking my life, I would have never been able to share my story in an interview on television and I wouldn’t be receiving an award on April 12 for my work with the National Youth Internet Safety and Cyberbullying Taskforce.
When I was suicidal I couldn’t see my future. I couldn’t see beyond my sadness and anguish. I thought my family would have been happier without me, when actually they would have been crushed. If I succeeded, my family would have never completely gotten over my death. They would have been constantly reminded of their loss and left with unanswered questions, questions that they would have never gotten answers for.
Depression seems hopeless, but it’s not. There is life beyond the darkness. Your existence is important to your family and friends. They don’t care how much pain you cause them; they don’t care what they have to do to help you; all they care about is how much you mean to them and how much they love you. Your death would only cause them a heart ache that could never be completely healed. Before you take your life, think of what you are giving up. You are throwing away a future, a chance for recovery, love of family and friends, a chance to have a family, a chance to find your true love, and so much more. If you are thinking about your suicide, then talk to someone, anyone you trust, and let them help you find help.
If you lost someone to suicide, your heart may never fully heal and all your questions may never be completely answered, but maybe this post will give you an idea what he or she was thinking. I hope it gives you some comfort and some understanding.
Because I never succeeded at taking my life, I have lived a wonderful life. It hasn’t always been easy, but I have learned, I have grown, I have fought, I have created memories, and I live in the light of recovery ready to see where else my life will take me.
Many think once you have beat cancer, the fight is over, and you are home free. You can just go back to your life and continue on like nothing ever happened. But it doesn’t work that way. Cancer becomes like a skeleton hiding in your closet, and popping out just to scare the daylights out of you. It’s also hanging in your closet just to remind you of what you have been through and what cancer did to you. The skeleton just won’t let you forget; it’s always there pointing its boney finger at you, threatening to haunt you for life.
The other day when I went to buy food on my break I mentioned to a fellow employee I no longer have to push up bra straps.
She looked at me and said, “Didn’t I tell you, you wouldn’t miss them? You kept saying you would get reconstruction and I told you boobs are good for nothing. Aren’t you happier without them?”
I told her, “Yes, it feels good not to have to wear a bra and I don’t miss them, but yet sometimes I do miss them.”
What I didn’t tell her is the scars on my chest are a constant reminder of the cancer I fought. Each day I look at myself topless, the skeleton of cancer stares at me and I can see its boney jaw moving, “Look what I did to you?” Each time I reach for a bra strap I no longer have, the skeleton says, “I won’t let you forget.”
I don’t just have scars on my chest from this illness I have scars on my soul. I fear constantly something else happening to me, having to go through another surgery or another crisis. I started getting pain in my left foot. My mind whirled. I just went through cancer, I just had two surgeries within three months, I just had needles poked into my right breast, and now I have another problem. I can’t go through another surgery. I don’t want to spend another summer recovering from procedures. I can’t be poked by more needles. This can’t be happening to me.
My foot doctor diagnosed me with plantar fasciitis and tendonitis and sent me to physical therapy. I had surgery for plantar fasciitis a few years ago. There is no way I will go through another surgery. I’d rather suffer. So a-long with therapy, I am getting treatments from my chiropractor. I got a note from my doctor to sit in between customers and I am doing ice and stretches every day. I’ll do whatever it takes to avoid another surgery.
When I saw the breast surgeon who did my mastectomy last month, he said, “Your chances of getting cancer again are very slim.”
The first thing that came to my mind was, “How do you know that?”
Yes, I had a mastectomy and a hysterectomy. Those body parts are gone and are no longer a risk, but there are other parts of my body. A co-worker a few years ago died of bone cancer. A friend at my writing group told of his friend who died of pancreatic cancer. A co-worker went through colon cancer. The BRCA gene puts me at high risk of skin cancer. I have many other body parts where cancer can pop its ugly head up. How can he confidentially say I have a slim chance of getting cancer again? How can I not be afraid cancer may invade another part of me? How do I stop the fear?
Types of Cancers
I live my life with cancer lurking in the closet of my mind and soul, but I can’t let it rule my life. Each time I look in the mirror at my chest I say, “Aimee, you are still beautiful. Cancer didn’t take that from you.”
My friend and fellow survivor, Jamie, messaged me, “You might open a real closet and talk back to the skeleton and give him the what for. Then laugh at it as that’s even more sticking it to him. When he raises his ugly head just tell him no.”
She’s right. I have to face the skeleton of cancer and stand up to it. I have to fight back and not let it run my life. I have to look at those scars and say, “These scars are proof that even cancer can’t hold me down.” I am a survivor. I kicked cancer in the butt, and if it ever rears its head again, I will beat it again. Cancer, you can try to haunt me all you want, but I will always rise above you.
If you overcame cancer and are finding it hard to let the emotional scars and physical reminders go, tell yourself, “I won an awful battle and I will not let it haunt me.” The shadow of cancer or skeleton of cancer will try very hard to haunt you, but use all the strength in you to face it and tell it to go away. Life is short. Live life to the fullest. Enjoy each day you are a-live and be proud of the battle you won.
The skeleton of cancer keeps trying to haunt me and hold me down. I’m doing what my friend told me to do. I’m laughing at it, I’m talking back to it, and I’m telling it no. Because I won’t let the memory, the scars, and the fears control me, I stand tall within the light of recovery.
I have been sick for two weeks so I have been resting instead of writing. So here is an older blog post. I hope you enjoy it.
In order to recover from mental illness, you must have determination, strength, and willpower to live a healthy life. You have to fight harder than you have ever fought in your life. Facing your mental illness is one of the most difficult challenges in your life. In order to fight, you must educate yourself about your illness, take your medication as advised, participate in therapy, and do any homework your therapist suggests.
When I found out in college I had depression, I collected pamphlets, I checked out books at the library on depression, and when I got a therapist, she gave me a video on depression. I needed to understand what my illness was and if I could get better. When I got sick again, years later, and found out I was a self-injurer and I had borderline personality disorder, I researched online and at the library and I bought books on my illness. Through research my life began to make sense. Many of the problems I had as a child had a reason. I wasn’t a freak; I was ill.
Once I understood my illness, I became determined to live a normal life. In order to reach recovery, I had to fight. Fighting meant going to therapy and learning to change my way of thinking, to look at my life in a different light, and to take my medications as prescribed. Most importantly, I had to want to get well more than anything in the world and I had to learn to believe in myself. In order to believe in myself, I had to love myself, which was a struggle of its own.
A friend kept telling her psychiatrist what medication to put her on and took herself off medications when she thought they didn’t work. By doing this she only made herself sicker. I found that even when medications didn’t seem to be working, I had to stay on them and allow my psychiatrist to change them. I also learned I had to try many medications until I found one that worked. By being patient, I did find one that has helped me reach recovery and stay within recovery.
I spent my life drowning in negativity and believing I was ugly and worthless. My thoughts dipped into darkness and raced uncontrollably for many years. I burst out into angry episodes and broke things. How could I change all that? Within my heart I knew the only way I could learn to be positive and control my thoughts and episodes was to go to therapy and do the homework my therapist gave me. I had to fight for my right to be happy and to find the positive side of life.
So dig deep down in yourself and find the willpower to fight. If you can’t find the power within you turn to God and ask for his help. By fighting, I am living a wonderful life and I have found true happiness above the hole, in the rays of the light.
Sorry there is no blog post this week. I am sick, but I wanted to share something I’ve found helpful. This is for those suffering with anxiety attacks. My friend sent this to me.
aimeeeddy.com 