Little books

The amount of time I would give to go back and help my previous self is overwhelming. I constantly look at the hindsight I have acquired, and sigh with a shake of my head. I wouldn't go back and spoil the lessons for myself, I probably wouldn't even say much. I know me, and words aren't always needed, just affection and a smile. I can't send these loving touches to myself, so words, alas, are all I have. To my current knowledge, I can't move backwards just yet, so I will send as much as I can forward.
I carry with me two small books. One is a leather bound journal, gifted by a friend I call my sister. I write most of my thoughts, no matter how negative, scary, under or overpowering they are. The other is yellow and filled with lines. It has room for a date, and some positive feelings.
This book was given to me by a boss who turned into a good friend. She gave it to me on my birthday last year. "Living well one line a day" used to be embossed in gold letters on the front. Months of living in a backpack has beat it up, but it still holds what I need.
Every day (though sometimes I fall behind and improvise off of memory) I write something to help me stay positive. I try to keep it in the moment, so even when the hard days come along, I use them as a lesson. I can become a better person. I don't need to do this for anyone or anything but myself. I can be the person that I fall in love with. It's not vanity, it's sanity.

Is this what you want

Is this who you want to be?

Six months have gone by
And I still have days that feel pretty useless. Every time I am here, I have to remind myself this is a part of me. This voice that says "the fight is not worth it" will always be there.
Living with this voice is the only way. I cant remove it, no amount of travel or drugs will silence it forever it'll always be there. It's me.

I've met so many people on this journey. Some places and stories are starting to blend, but the feelings they give me are still there. They all want me to find happiness. They all want to do their best in helping out. They are the voices I think of on days like today.

I have been told by many "I hope you find what you are looking for". I believe I'll never find what I'm looking for. What I want is unattainable, but what I need will help me get through the days. I need to sleep. I need to eat. I like good conversation and sweets, catchy music and to laugh, but can I function without these things? I have before.

Keep fighting. Keep moving forward. Carry your own weight.
The words that come out of my mouth aren't always regarded kindly. Why am I wanting to move forward? What's the damn point of it all?

I don't think I'll ever fully fit in somewhere. It's not a pity party, I feel it's the truth. I made myself up to be everybodies jester for such a long time, I cant figure out how to be my own best friend. I changed things about myself for other people to fit me into their lives. Now I'm here, and I want to be my authentic self, and I'm realizing I'm bored with my actual self.

So here's to taking a shower, a deep breath, and trying to push past all the bullshit that is in my head. I can't become anything worthwhile as I sit and pity myself. It takes work, and I'm going to keep pushing. Life has to be worth something more. Life must have a meaning, and I have to find that meaning for myself.

Deep breaths.

Clean morning, messy poetry

I'll never be your forever, love
The girl in pastel pink
With shoes that run
And stockings I can't lace up
This race was doomed from the start

A fox in the brooding coop
I've never been one for order
You've never been one for doubt
So keep your head up
You messed up
But this won't be the final time

There is something here for everyone
Something hidden behind every line
Walk a mile and aim high, dear
Only nature can stop you know

When you fight for rainbows
And live in this rainstorm
Only deep breaths can keep you dry

Keep moving forward

"What's your buggest fear?" she asked
But we both knew the answer before it came out.
She was running her hands through her homemade mess of a mohawk. I took a deep breath as I opened my eyes, and really took her in. She was odd. I could see why others called her pretty, beautiful, and trustworthy. I couldn't use those words to describe her, no matter how hard I tried.
She was rough. She had a tendency to fall first and look for stability later. She wanted to find herself, but she was looking in all the wrong eyes and souls.
I knew she was brave. She did things she never thought she would, went places I had never heard of. The stories she had were intriguing at best, but she was never very good at sticking with a plot.
I took a deep breath as I formed my fears and deep worries into awkward language. I feared being alone above everything else, and she knew that well. As I exhaled I looked at her stature, and the goofy way she cocked her joints as she asked questions. I forced a smile and said "I'm working on eliminating as many fears as I can from my mind."
She nodded and shifted her weight to the other hip. "What about love?"
The question hit me hard. I knew she wasn't forming an attack, she was just testing my honesty. We knew our honesty with others, but it was harder between us. We had lied so many times, and our relationship never really hit even ground for a continuous amount of time.
"I'm working on loving myself, I want to believe what others say" I responded as bravely as I could, but I couldn't make eye contact, so I stared down at the faucet handles.
"One more time, and some feeling would be nice" she jeered. Why did she have to poke fun?
I looked up at the mirror, and saw her face begging for honesty. She needed to hear that I loved her, she needed to know how brave I thought she was.
Her whole body moved with the relief of a sigh as I turned away. I flipped the switch as we left the bathroom, not looking back at the reflective glass on the wall.

Since I left, I've been writting myself letters and notes in a journal a close friend gifted me. I use thus as a way to calm myslef when I find myself in a panic or a heavy depression wave.
"Look at how lovely the good times can get"
I wrote in a journal entry back in October. I had left home a few days prior, and was in this natrual high of actual achievement.

"I know it will never stay this solid, but I really need the good times to make the bad bearable. I need to have the bad times to really notice the good.
My world is a scale, and it's always rebalancing. Life is like water, it's always flowing and changing. My life story is not solid. I am a lake, that flows into a river. I have cuttofs and creeks, and thriving wetlands. I have to support all of the life that inhabbits these places. I support them, and they me."
-
"Could you start the walk later?"
Somebody asked me this in Denver. My immediate defense told them no, I have to start it when I planned. No sooner, no later.
"Are you sure you can walk it with that ankle of yours?"
Again, defense. I said I am gojng to walk it, so I will walk it. My ankle isn't doing that bad, really. I can go for a few miles before I have to give it a break.

The thought of changing plans scared me. What if I defer and find myself somewhere I didn't plan? How can I trust myself if I don't do exactly what I had in mind?
I am a river, I am fluid. Life keeps moving, and nothing is set in stone.

I had planned to start the river walk in a week. I was going to couchsurf and maybe WWOOF in Minnesota so I could start my trip 'on time'.
I'm currently a few hundred miles south of my start point, and it's clear I won't be starting in a week.

Something has brought me back to Dallas, Texas. I've come to realize the river will still be there months from now, and I can start it then. I also am looking into biking it, as my ankle is causing me constant pain.
I can change my mind, I can make my own course. Life is fluid, and I enjoy seeing where it will take me.

I want to be happy in the body I have. I want to wake up and feel thankful for the muscles and bones that help me move forward.
This journey started as a way for me to find my happiness. I kept thinking about what made me happy, and came up with very few answers. I couldn't see the silver lining as easily as I used to. I kept questioning the worth of my light at the end of the tunnel, and would find myself sitting in the dark instead of walking into the light.
Mental health is a constant process. As a culture, we are supplied with therapists and medications that can help one problem but create others.
After years of trying prescriptions, and talking with my close friends, I decided I want to try a clean slate. I had a birth control implant in my arm that was making my depression days feel like there was no way out of the dark tunnel, no matter how much light was at one end.
Two days ago, I had the implant removed. Looking back now, the past six months make so much more sense. The side effects really attacked my energy, my hope, and my will to keep moving forward. The easiest things felt impossible, my happiness always under a thick fog of numbness.
Really pay attention to the listed side effects. Ask the nurse, doctor, and if possible, another patient on the same drug about the changes they have noticed. Try alternate routines, try new things with your diet, add in more excersize. Try some alternatives, and know there is always someone out there that wants to help. Take care of yourself, because I love you, and I want you to love yourself as well.

Damage control

I'm on a train in Bartlett, IL. I am heading into Chicago to pick up a car and drive to Ottawa for an appointment.
I might miss my appointment. I might have to reschedule and ask the person I'm staying with to drive me another day. The reason this is happening is because someone used the train before mine as their ticket out. The woman selling tickets phrased it as "they didn't want to see the end of the day."
When people use mass transit as their way out, I have noticed some comments from others. "Don't ruin my day because you couldn't handle yours" is one I remember from a few years back. The mood is usally a mix of frustration due to offset plans, and a wonder of what that person was going through as they decided this was going to be their last day.
I wish I could have met that person. Maybe a hug or a listening ear could have helped them with what they were going through. Not everyone wants to ask help, but what is the cost of offering it? A cup of coffee, a work of art, a smile durring a busy morning commute?
I'm writing this with love for the people who have considered stepping in front of trains or oncoming traffic. This is for the people who walked to the golden gate bridge with sadness in their eyes. I appreciate you. Ending your life, no matter how you do it, is not the only way to stop the suffering. Travel, write, bike, try different forms of therapy. There is so much beauty in this world, you just have to find it for yourself.

Spreading love over spending money

Working through the rough patches is never as pleasing as I hope it could be. It's not like I find a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. The victory of winning the hard days is waking up the next day, and having to push through it again.

The will to live is a difficult will for me to have. I'm twenty-five, and I know that the more years that pass, the more days I'll be battling my depression. I doubt there will ever be a cure, putting hope in that probability is destructive to my sense of moving forward.

On the difficult days, I have used consumption as a fix. Buying clothes, sugar, or for instance, I'm at a pizza place right now. Buying something to make me feel better in the moment has proven more destructive than it is helpful. Picking up trash is ritual that helps me realize consumption does not prove happiness.  A big part of me starting this journey was selling and donating most of my items. The more toys, books, and clothes I watched leave my life, the lighter I felt.

Getting a job does not help my happiness. When I was visiting back home, I went back to my job, and somehow left with less than I came home with. Making money, no matter what I'm doing, is not a reward to me. I have no sense of what saving money will do to help me in the future. I never really had a visual growing up of saving money, the second it's in my hand, I feel the need to trade it for something.

So what can I do to make myself happy? How can I push through the rough days and find a reason to smile and a will to live?
I want to talk openly about depression to people of different ages and backgrounds. I want to help others find a reason to keep moving forward. I want to minimize the money I feel I need to make. I want to find alternative ways of achieving what I need to wake up the next day.

I hope one day I can handle being alone with myself and not feel hateful. I'm working towards loving the sound of my voice, as it is the tool I need to achieve helping others. I want my smile to be the warm welcome someone needs, my arms a full embrace to make them feel safe.

Loving me is hard, but loving others comes so easily. I was given this as a gift, and I need to use it as one.

Walking for a cause

I know I'm not going to like this blog, because it won't look or sound as pretty as I want it to. This post is not about the art I want to create right now. This is the impact that I want to make.
I suffer from depression. I have tried therapy, different types of drugs, different diets, as well as different lifestyles. I believe I'm in the happiest part of my life. I'm traveling constantly, meeting beautiful people, and working towards goals I set.
I still have days where I battle with the sound of my own voice or the thoughts in my head. I tell myself to shut up, turn the mirror away, or pick at my skin. On these days, the best way to come out on top is to look at how others have fought through those times.
I met the most wonderful woman when I visited home this last holiday season. Her name is Holly, and she's an artist. Her art is absolutely mind-blowing.  It's all based around the stigmas we hold against depression and other mental disorders. It really surprised me how comfortable it was to stand in an open hallway at an art walk and converse with this woman I just met.
I've had friends tell me before how they think that I am a strong individual because openly talk about my depression. Though it is something that still gets caught in my throat, I think that I need to keep talking about it and to keep moving for it.
Depression doesn't touch just one person, it affects so many people, and I want to help as many of those people as I possibly can. My upcoming walk began as a personal goal. It was originally planned because traveling it is my therapy. Meeting strangers and having surprisingly beautiful moments at the most unexpected times has done so much for me. I want to use this walk is a way to bring help to those who need it.
So this is why I am posting this blog. I want to spread awareness, help distribute money, hugs, and positive experiences. My biggest problem is I'm not sure how. Should I start my own web page so people can send money and who decide where it goes? what companies and not for profits are actually doing the best work they could be? would anybody support this? Am I asking the right questions?

Thank you for reading this post. If you have any information that could help me help others please comment or send me an email
Jennise.gaines@gmail.com

Please visit Holly's website
http://hollyballardmartz.com/