Mental Health

2db2aa9b-ca54-43e2-8fe5-0bdf3df5cce6A special someone in my life told me last night that, “We can’t heal alone…” and that’s been sticking with me all day. He is right, so for those who sincerely been loving and supporting me, if it seems I am taking you for granted, I deeply apologize. I promise, I am not.

Survival mode is a pain to climb out of after decades of fighting demons alone. Figured I switch up and express my gratitude, instead of allowing my mind to resort to the worse case scenario in my position. You are appreciated beyond words.

…and for those who are trying to take efforts beyond measures to ensue my accomplishments and success, I am trying to open myself, but the leap of faith is my current biggest fear in my life, especially of having crashed and burned by someone I took a leap of faith on fairly recently. I’m still healing…

JUST IN CASE SOMEONE NEEDS TO HEAR THIS:

Some days are very frustrating in the healing process and forgiving yourself for your past. Especially when you are alone or feel you’re alone in this life.

I frustrate myself most as my own worse enemy.

It’s easy to fake happiness when in reality everything in your life is on fire. Friends and family become strangers, therefore you’re not sure if you are capable to trust those who simply want to love and care for your heart. You work day in and day out to extinguish the flames around you.

Why alone? Cause most people don’t give a shit about your life or your story. Point, blank. However, as I grow older and continue my healing process, I come to the realization that it doesn’t matter. You cannot heal yourself on other’s expectations and other’s schedules. Why do I know this so well?

I grew up and still experience an environment where my emotions or my lifestyle doesn’t matter. I grew up where nobody has ever put me first or respect my voice.

Results in this are: one, I also have never put myself first, and two, I’ve crashed and burn like a broken record repeatedly by putting everyone else before my own.

For majority of the people in my life, walls and boundaries are set and I use two personalities (Yay, Geminis!), the strong, quiet personality and/or the goofy/high energy personality to help deteriorate any possible negative energy disguised in human form.

The consequence, genuine people in my life could easily come and go by misunderstanding me as a spiritual being.

As a spiritual being, I’m training myself to a different resolution. I’m learning to read people’s energy, rather than resort to the assumptions that everyone is bad juju.

It is a challenge for your heart and mind. Especially for those who travel a similar path like mine, but trust me when I say it gets better as you start creating a barrier that’s actually healthy.

You slowly learn to not put up with the bullshit that’s toxic and the genuine people see you for who you truly are as a beautiful, gifted soul. Most importantly, you start loving yourself and finding your confidence.

But how do we know we are progressing in our self healing and self love? Life starts to magnify you towards your goals and dreams in life and love.

💜🦄🖤

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Day to day, I keep questioning myself…
How do I express my feelings without offending you?
I guess you should have thought twice,
Before you put me through what you put me through.
How would you feel if I revealed the truth,
The real roots of my PTSD and the rest of my mental issues?
Still today, I’d rather be back at the front lines of war,
Then be on the home front, being repeatedly reminded of my childhood nightmares.
The noisy citizenry is now wondering where, what, why?
Do I dare to even open that door?
The door to my closet, where skeletons lay all over the floor.
Piling up as if I am just a professional hoarder,
My closet is a mess; it’s all out of order with the door half-broken.
I am almost thirty, and I still fear of having children.
The fact I fear the most is being like my parents.
Do I dare explain it on my end?
My emotions have hit rock bottom.
I don’t know any other way to release them without the bottle.
Personally, that’s my problem. Once an angel, now fallen.
I got to try to find a way for my heart to blossom,
before it hardens and becomes rotten.
I am almost thirty, and I still fear of permanent commitment.
My father expressed it with his actions, through his heartless abandonment.
I was never taught properly how women should be treated by men.
I mean, where was he when ma found out I was being molested?
So when a good man is found, I just find a way to end it.
I act as if I have a lack of confidence, but really I am just full of my conscience.
People stress to me that I should let my past go,
Easy for you to say considering you never been in my shoes.
Behind closed doors was a whole different show that was played for the views.
Til this day, I still get the abrupt end of verbal abuse.
Til this day, I’m trying to find a way to heal the scars and massage the bruises,
Without necessary making accuses with my distancing excuses.
So the only way I’ll be able to let it go is if I talk about it.
It’s unfortunate that I never got the professional help I needed as a kid.
I guess my writing and my spoken words are a reaction for what should have been.
Before blame is put on me, look in the mirror and think of the things you did.
This poem reveals that my rage and my resentment, is still alive and kicking’
But instead of beating around the bush with the little white lies, I’m only being honest.
Isn’t that what you wanted? Even if it’s written, although I am feeling a bit smitten?
Is it a crime that I’ve given you a sneak peak into my flaw-filled closet?
My pain through a rear-view mirror, just a bunch of ugly roots.
This was just a preview of a chapter that is to be continued….

2014©H.M.Gautsch

Screenshot_20180609-142434~2I don’t apologize in advance if this is a long ass blog, fore things need to be said. Everybody is more focused on mental health when a public figure is found dead in their home or hotel room,  rather than when a veteran or regular civilian is taking their lives due to the lack of resources and education provided to help these individuals.

Even so, the pattern is the same. We all mourn for a week or so, and move on, while the families of these public figures continue to ask, “Why?” -OR- loved ones are stained in survivor’s guilt or guilt in general for not speaking up sooner about these individuals’ problems.

In the past week we have lost two more very successful figures, Kate Spade & Anthony Bourdain. In the past week, we’ve shared sadness as fans, but also ignorant opinions arise again for those who have passed:

“He/She had all the money in the world.”

“Why would he/she leave their families behind?”

“He/she seemed so happy, they had everything.”

etc..

etc..

When will we wake up to the fact that mental health is an actual plague? It doesn’t matter what skin color you are, what sexual orientation you prefer, what identity you go by, or probably the most segregated label, what class you fall in. Rich and poor are victims of mental health, but until we all come together about this issue, fight over who has it worse on this Earth, and end the stigma.

What bothers me more than my own personal battle with mental health, this society lacks compassion and understanding for one another. It’s selfish. That in itself, is truly depressing.

I may not have followed Kate Spade much, but Anthony Bourdain was and still a favorite of mine as a writer, traveler, and foodie. He’s the reason I became a huge fan of the Travel Channel and started with culinary first at the beginning of my blogging career. He is also one of my main inspires for traveling.

This past weekend, while I was reflecting on the news, these amazing artists also made me realize, it doesn’t matter what your passions are or what you do in this lifetime. When someone stoops so low that the only answer they see is suicide, are we even able to prevent it when most of us don’t even see it coming until it’s too late? My insight, it’s fucking scary. Especially for artists’ who are consumed or battle darkness daily.

Regardless of my revelations and questions in this blog post, I want to keep fighting and educating people on mental health. I’ve been down that road and I am pretty open about it. We all go through shit in life, but it’s how well we skill ourselves towards resilience and self-care. KNOW OUR LIMITS! KNOW OUR BOUNDARIES! KNOW OUR TRIGGERS! Most importantly, know that we are not alone in this world and that we are flares for change.

If you are feeling that low currently, I want to give you a reminder; a poem I wrote in 2011 for suicide awareness called, “Not The Answer”:

“Not The Answer” (Suicidal Awareness)

To the victims,
I wish I could show you,
The beautiful side of life,
You relentlessly walked away from.

To the silent ones,
I wish you would speak up for,
The ones suffering in strife,
Reach out to the ones feeling succumb.

Don’t just turn your heads,
It could be your own kid!
Don’t be afraid to tread,
Don’t fear the worst, hope for the best.

How can I convince you?
The ones that try to run your life,
Are not your master.

How can I convince you?
That suicide is not the only escape route,
It’s really not the answer.

There shouldn’t be secrecy,
If you need help,
Find the courage to ask.

Let this poem
be your mercy.
When you’re overwhelmed,
And remove the mask.

My friends call me brave
Very few have seen
where I’ve been,
Compared to where I am now.

My main motivation,
Is my own ambition, my own talents,
So you can show the world
your own endowments.

How can I convince you?
The ones that try to run your life,
Are not your master.

How can I convince you?
That suicide is not the only escape route,
It’s really not the answer.

This poem isn’t just directed,
To those bullied in high school,
~Or~ those who dare to be different.

I also want to make a special shout out,
To the combat veterans who struggle with PTSD,
Traumatic brain injury, or depressed
for missing a limb or a few.

I’m not trying to make it all about me,
But my whole life is far from a fantasy,
Most the things I’ve listed,
I’ve been through.

I pray you see my stories as inspirations,
To find the desire and affections,
survive Lucifer’s fire.
How can I convince you?

So, how can I relate? Why did I write this poem back in the day? As an advocate for PTSD/MST, I am not afraid to share my shit. Some people fear my story, others are inspired. My name is Heather Marie and I have chronic post-traumatic stress and attention-deficit disorder. I take Zoloft & Ritalin every day and it’s sometimes a challenge to balance the two medications. Even though I first experienced trauma at the age of four and struggled years on end with school and home, as well as, deployed to Iraq at 20 years old, I was not diagnosed until the age of 23.

The past nine years was a roller coaster, but it is starting to smooth out with the knowledge I’ve gathered over the years and the boundaries I’ve set for most people and the triggers in my life. Writing has been my main outlet with years of oppressed memories and emotions. I still have my bad days when therapy gets intense with washed up memories coming back to the forefront. I also lean on music and film to distress my symptoms and express myself. I don’t drink anymore due to my past of carelessness with alcohol and medication abuse in the past. I know what my triggers are, so I avoid them to the best of my ability. I also have alternative therapies that assist me medically.

I know I’m here for a purpose. That keeps me moving forward, never backwards. I hope we don’t just toss this subject aside until the next public figure decides it’s the only answer to escape the pain in this world. We need to end the stigma for ALL who suffer or strive with mental health.