Let's Try This Again

Trigger Warning: Talk of self-harm and suicide in Paragraph 3 only. Please skip it if you need to.

I haven’t written on here in forever. That doesn’t mean I haven’t written anything, believe me. I still write my fanfiction stories, I write little essays for myself, and I’ve started writing things down for my nephews as well. I also did a 52-week writing course which I absolutely loved. Writing publicly, however, is always more of a risk. It’s a more vulnerable position to be in.

The last thing I wrote on this site was January 4th, 2023, and I said how 2022 was a rough year for me and I was hoping 2023 would be better. Well, a couple of weeks after I wrote that sentence, 2023 decided to kick my entire family right in the teeth. I’ve heavily debated writing about this out of respect to my family. Some of them read this site and I never want to hurt or upset them but I also want to write about it because it’s important. Important to me and important to other people.

January of 2023, my Uncle tried to take his own life. His siblings had to make the impossible decision to take him off life support. My family has experienced a lot of death over the years because my Mom’s side of the family is so large. This death hit the hardest though for a lot of them, if not most of them. I’m not going to spend this whole post talking about it, only the next two paragraphs and they will only talk about his life, not his death. Feel free to skip them if you want.

My Uncle was a great man. He had his demons and vices, as we all do, but he was so much fun and one of the most generous people you’d ever meet in your life. Each of my cousins have their own favorite memories of him and I won’t speak for them. I have my own great memories of him. Canoeing, horseback riding (okay that one sucked, I fell but whatever), paintballing, amusement parks, white water rafting etc. It was always an amazing time when my Uncle came to visit and I’ll never forget those adventures with him.

He always told me about ziplining in Costa Rica. Last year, September 2023, I went ziplining in the Poconos for my birthday and in memory of him. It was a blast and I hope to do it again and again over the years when I travel to different places. It’s in those moments, the moments when I’m terrified before I’m about to do something new, that I’ll remember him the most and push myself to do those new things.

Honestly, I didn’t have much of a plan when I decided to sit down and write today. Not sure if there was a purpose or a point to it, other than wanting to write something. Here’s what I know. I know 2023 took a lot from my Mom and her family. I know that as someone who struggles with depression and anxiety, it is immensely important to check in on your people. Especially, the people who seem as if they’re doing great. Ask anyway, check in anyway, meet up with them anyway.

I had a sickening realization recently: I’ll probably never go another year of my life without going to a funeral. I hate that. It seems ridiculous and unbelievable but inevitable. If that’s true, for myself, for you, for anyone reading this, do whatever you can to enjoy the people in your life now. Text, call, send a card, go see them, set up a dinner, go to lunch, do something.

They’re important. You’re important.

They matter. You matter. I matter.

They deserve to be here. You deserve to be here. We ALL deserve to be here.

Try to remember that on your darkest days.

I’m here. I’m still going. It’s 2024. Let’s try this again. This year, I’m putting it out into the universe, this year will be different. This year will be better. This year will be happier. Maybe not every moment. Not every day. Hell, maybe not even every week. But this year, as a whole, will be better because I’m choosing to make it so.

I hope you all do the same.

Eight Days into the New Year

I’m not sure what will come from me sitting down at my laptop and writing straight from my brain for the first time in a long time. Hell, it might be a random stream of consciousness that makes no sense to me or anyone else.

2022. I can’t believe it’s the year 2022. I can’t believe I’m thirty-two years old. Most of the time I still feel like I’m 17.

The truth is, I’ve always been a cynic. It’s hard to believe in good things when the world and the media shows you nothing but the terrible. I’m trying though, I’ve been trying my hardest not to be as negative. I’ve been trying to hold out hope for the world, for my life, for the lives of those around me. It’s hard. The last two years have been brutal. The pandemic, the anxiety, the depression. It sinks us deeper and deeper with every minute we have to sit in our houses. Especially on those of us who were already dealing with anxiety and depression before 2020.

I’ve always had a weird thing with death. I don’t want to call it an obsession because it doesn’t run my life. But there are times when it runs my thoughts for longer than I’d like. I’m not saying I’m suicidal. I’m not. In fact, I’m exactly the opposite. I’m absolutely terrified of death. Or maybe it’s not the act of dying I’m terrified of but the thought of what happens next.

Growing up Catholic, I was told “be good, you’ll go to heaven”. Well, I stopped believing in God when I was around 13/14. Where does that leave those of us who gave up on religion and higher powers? I’ll tell you where it leaves me: lying in bed every night thinking of this ultimate darkness. This big empty space.

Most of my friends are atheists and they’re very rational and logical in their thinking. They believe when you die, that’s it, you cease to exist, you’re in the ground. The end. That way of thinking scares the shit out of me. How can it be possible that we go through all of this pain and heartbreak in life and all we get at the end of it is nothing? What was the point?

Is there a point?

I know I’ve talked about this before. My lack of faith, my fear of nothingness. However, with the pandemic, and the shootings running rampant in Philadelphia, it’s on my mind a lot more than I’d like. Those shootings, those sudden deaths, I have a hard time reconciling those in my mind. Those people are standing on the street, talking, laughing with their friends and the next second, they’re gone. How does anyone deal with this?

Most people probably don’t think about it as often as I do. Most people can distract themselves. Unfortunately, I’m not most people. Once my brain latches onto an idea, it takes a near miracle for me not to run it through my mind until I’ve thought of every possible scenario. I genuinely envy people who have faith. Whatever they have faith in, whatever their religion is, I envy how they can believe it and trust it completely.

One person in particular comes to my mind. Late-night host Stephen Colbert. Stephen has always been vocal about his belief in God. He’s also someone who has been through true tragedy in his life. I love listening to him talk to other celebrities who think differently than he does. Ricky Gervais is a very outspoken atheist. Andrew Garfield seems to more on a spiritual level and has the belief that we’ll never know anything for sure. Stephen is never judgmental towards these people. He’s open and his discussions with them are thoughtful and honest. If only we could all speak to each other with the same level of respect.

I guess I’m wondering, if you’ve given up on organized religion and the idea of a one true “God”, what else can you have faith in? When people ask me if I’m religious or if I still follow Catholicism, I say I’m not religious, but I like to believe I’m spiritual. This is true. I might not believe in pearly gates or saints or angels or whatever else the Bible publicizes but I do believe the people we’ve lost aren’t completely gone. I think I have to believe this. I have to believe the family I’ve lost is still around.

Is it enough though? Is a vague belief in spirituality enough to push me through? Is it enough to keep me going? Is it enough to calm my mind at the end of the day? Is it enough to believe when I’m gone that I won’t be completely gone? Is that how I’m going to make the idea of death okay? Sixteen years of Catholic school and thirty-two years on this planet and I still have no idea.

Rationally, I know none of this matters. Not in the grand scheme of things because once we’re gone, none of this debate, none of this wondering will mean anything. I have no control over any of this. Which is probably why I’m so fixated on trying to understand. I don’t do well when things are out of my control.

What matters, what truly matters, is what we do on this earth while we have the time. I know this, logically. But how much time do we have left? How much time do we spend doing frivolous things? Or maybe nothing is frivolous if it’s something you enjoy. I enjoy going to the movies, I’m not changing the world, but I’m happy in those two hours in a darkened theater. Is that okay? It has to be, right? It’s my life and it is literally the only one I have so shouldn’t I fill it with things I love? Or should we be filling our lives by doing for others or trying to make small changes in the world?

Perhaps it’s both. In doing for others, in making those small changes, you can also find happiness within yourself.

The truth is, I have no idea why we’re here. Or where we’ll be when we leave. Sometimes that unknown won’t let me sleep at night.

I apologize if I’ve sent some of you into an existential crisis on this Saturday morning, eight days into the new year. However, I’m also unapologetic because I know I can’t be alone in all of this. If my questioning makes you feel less alone then I’m glad I wrote this. I’m also glad I wrote this because it means it’s out of my head for a while and I can go on with my day.

If you want to share your thoughts on these topics, please feel free to do so in the comment section. If you do have faith, if you do believe in something bigger than yourself, please hold onto it. Take comfort in it. Never let it go because once you do, it’s incredibly difficult to try and find it again.

Seasonal Depression in Spring/Summer

                The birds are chirping, the sun is shining, the days are longer, and I couldn’t be more miserable if I tried. Clearly, I’m not a doctor and I dislike doing research which means everything you’re about to read is from my personal experience and shouldn’t be taken as gospel on any subject.

                For those of you who are asking yourselves, “How can you possibly be depressed in such beautiful weather?” Be patient, I’m about to tell you. Yes, the weather is beautiful TO YOU. To me? Beautiful weather is gloomy skies, a chill in the air, and the threat of precipitation in any form. Unfortunately, for the next four months I must deal with ungodly high temperatures, sunburn, and sweating my ass off. Not my idea of a good time.

                There’s more to it than the general annoyances we all endure in the Spring and Summer. As I said, the days are longer and I don’t handle this well. To me, longer days means more time alone in my apartment. More alone time is NOT what I need right now. I’ve been taking naps almost every single day when I come home from work. I feel exhausted for no reason and taking naps makes the day go faster so I can go back to bed. I measure time by how much longer until I can crawl into my bed. Three more hours, two more hours, FINALLY!

                Depression runs deep on both sides of my family. However, I’m 50% Italian and 50% Irish so no one talks about anything. I’m the chatterbox in my family, the one who refuses to keep their mouth shut, the one who says what everyone else is too afraid to say. I have to talk about this because if I don’t then it only becomes worse and I sink deeper.

                Let me explain how I feel in the Spring/Summer. For one thing, I have a very difficult time sleeping at night. If I’m even the least bit hot I wake up and can’t fall back to sleep. If I wake up in the middle of the night and the birds are already chirping, I can’t get back to sleep unless I put ear plugs in and even then, it’s iffy. My apartment has central air but it doesn’t circulate well (especially in 90 degree weather) and I spent most of last summer sleeping on the floor of my living room. Not fun.

                Then there’s the whole clothing aspect of the warmer months. If you know me at all, you know I struggle with my weight and have for much of my life. Now it’s shorts, tank tops, and bathing suit weather. I would rather burrow into a hoodie, jeans, and under six blankets than wear those things. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve made unbelievable progress over the past two-three years and I don’t just mean on the scale. Yes, I’ve lost almost 40lbs. But I’ve also reached a place where I can look in a mirror and not immediately cringe or cry because even though I’m still big, I’m happier and that’s more important than the number on the scale.

                Honestly, I am doing much better, but I hit my biggest setbacks in the Spring and Summer. I’ve gained some weight back and it’s completely derailed me. It’s not a lot of weight but that never seems to matter, does it? All we see is a bigger number and it sets us off. Hell, I even managed to keep my weight steady during the holidays but as soon as Spring hits, it’s up again.

                Sometimes I genuinely sabotage myself. When I see a higher number, my first thoughts are, “Oh fuck it then, I’m going to eat whatever I want. Screw this. It’s not worth it. It’s never going to be worth it. You’re always going to be fat, come to terms with it and do whatever you want.” Logically, I’m aware this is a TERRIBLE overreaction but it’s the easy reaction. Giving up is so easy and it feels SO good. For about a week before the self-loathing kicks in again. I’ve tried incredibly hard over the years to turn those thoughts around and not let myself ruin everything I’ve done. It’s tough to be kind to ourselves.

                Obviously, with all these thoughts running through my head the last thing I want to do is put on a pair of shorts or sit by the pool. There are very few people in my life (mostly my best friends) who have seen me in shorts, even fewer people have seen me in sleeveless shirts. Sleeveless shirts…I mean WHY?! Why is this a thing? I HATE them. Well, that’s not true, I hate my arms. I hate my arms more than any other part of my body and I’d be perfectly content to never let another human being see them. It’s bad enough I have to see them.

                Are you starting to get it? Are you starting to understand why someone with these types of thoughts wouldn’t exactly thrive in the warmer weather?

                You might be saying to yourself, “Shouldn’t this warmer weather motivate you to work harder to achieve the results you desire?” Here’s my answer: NOPE. In fact, I have the exact opposite reaction. I want to hide. I want to hide away until the leaves start to fall. You know why? Because every time I try to set a goal for myself like “Oh I want to lose five pounds before July”, if that doesn’t happen, the disappoint sets me back MONTHS and then I’m miserable again.

                I’m already hard on myself. I beat myself up harder than anyone else. For instance, my Dad took a picture of me when I wasn’t paying attention and I was making a funny face in it. He sent me the picture, with absolutely no harm intended in any way, and I started crying. Because I had no neck, I had 18 chins and that’s ALL I could see. I told him, “Oh my god, delete that immediately and never show it to me again. That’s disgusting.” I called a picture of my own face “disgusting” and I meant it. Can you imagine what runs through my mind when I see a picture of myself in shorts and a sleeveless top?

                I wish I had solutions for any of this. I wish the first thoughts in my head weren’t always negative. I wish I didn’t care what other people think. I wish I thought better of myself. Don’t we all wish to think better of ourselves?

                These upcoming months are my worst. These are the months where every insecurity I have is amplified to the highest degree. I still have good days. I have days where I laugh and smile and have a great time.

                The reason I wrote this is because I want people to be mindful that not everyone loves Spring and Summer. Not everyone wants to sit on a beach all day. Not everyone wants to dress weather appropriate. Try to keep that in mind before you say something like, “Oh my god, aren’t you dying in those jeans?” Yeah, I am sweating in them but they’re also the only reason I’m standing outside right now and not lying in bed so give me a break.

                It’s rough for me right now. It’s rough for a lot of people.

                Be kind to yourselves and I promise I’ll try to do the same.