Category: strength

I Am My Own Worst Enemy

On By spaige08In depression, mental health, mental health awareness, mental illness, self care, strength, Uncategorized, writingLeave a comment

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I scroll through social media often, probably too much honestly. During 2019 it often made me more depressed than I already was seeing all the positive things happening to my friends. Yes, I know of impostor syndrome and I know people rarely like to post about negative aspects of their lives, but these positives were too much for me to bear. I felt happy that my friends had great things going on in their lives albeit new babies, new jobs, exciting vacations. Then I would turn inward and repeatedly tell myself how horrible I was and that I haven’t accomplished nearly what I thought I would. Because…

I am my own worst enemy!

We all are. Most of us tell ourselves we can do better. Just strive harder, work longer, sleep less to have more time to do more stuff. The one major addition to this is the two (yes two!) episodes of major depressive disorder I was going through in the majority of 2019 (I swear there were maybe 3 months I was my typical self). Because of this stagnant disorder, I kept repeating the horrible thoughts about myself and the lack of things I succeeded in fulfilling that whole year.

It wasn’t enough that I was successful at my job. It wasn’t enough that my husband and daughter were happy and healthy. It wasn’t enough that I spoke with the school superintendent concerning mental health awareness with our youth. It wasn’t enough that due to the latter, the schools have actively been creating more awareness through round table meetings and district meetings. It wasn’t enough that I had two amazing events surrounding my book.

I just wasn’t enough. Because I am my own worst enemy.

2020 started off with me coming to the realization that I had to leave my major depressive episodes behind. I had to be the change. I gave myself a chance to look at life with a new perspective and with an exception of a couple of days, I have been a content and determined woman. I am deeply adamant to not take up residence with major depressive disorder this year.

And then I scrolled through my social media accounts. I noticed several of my friends amazing activities. One just completed a marathon in Disney world. Another had images of almost daily breathtaking hikes. And a third was showing off the muscles they have gotten due to the gym routine they started last year. And me… what did I have to show off my former strength?! That’s right… Nothing!

I have gone to the gym two times since the new year. I went on several dog walks with my mush, Princess. This time, unlike all of 2019, I had an epiphany. The only one who was stopping me from regaining the stable and strong version of myself was me. As hard as it will be, I need to motivate myself to head to the gym, to hike, and to (hopefully) snowshoe. I need to stop make excuses… I’m too tired, I don’t feel well, I’ll start next week (or month, or year). I was never going to be strong if I didn’t even try.

It will be difficult. I had a whole year of making excuses. A year filled with lack of hunger and mobility. But I have to at least give myself a chance, right?! I have to stop being my own worst enemy because if I stay this way, I won’t ever become stable. I know from past experience how much exercise helps my mental well-being. I feel strong after a good strength training session and I feel so rejuvenated after a long hike or snowshoe excursion. I guess this time I have to keep reminding myself how I feel after and that may be all the motivation I need.

I will always be my own worse enemy, but maybe, just maybe, this year I could be accepting of who I am and become my own friend. I deserve to feel better. I deserve to be stable. I deserve to be happy.

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2019, The Year and The Decade

On By spaige08In death, depression, foster mom, hospitalization, mental health, mental health awareness, mental illness, Mother, new year, parenting, self care, self harm, strength, true crime, Uncategorized, writing1 Comment

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2019, I can’t say that I am not happy to see you go. I spent most of you in a chronic depressive state. Riding a roller coaster to the point of  my depression becoming cyclical but not quite bipolar. You taught me about self-harm, the urge to see myself in pain, to control something in my life, to feel some sort of emotion. You brought me death of someone close to me, death of my book and its publishing company. You made me lose myself again and again. You turned me into a weak being so unsure if my strength would ever return.

But, 2019, I can’t say all of you was bad. I did two book signings and with that made a good group of friends with other authors. One night together in May and we became so connected that we still chat almost daily. You gave me Princess, the sweetest rescue dog who has brought me so much solace and love. You sent me to California, albeit via a stressful project. I got to see the desert of southern CA including pieces of Joshua Tree National Park. You brought me to some beautiful trails in Vermont. I can definitely say I saw many beautiful things in nature this year.

And your decade, 2019. So much has occurred from 2010 to now. I went through my hardest, deepest episodes of depression. I almost had a son. I loved this boy from the moment I met him and there is still a piece of my heart that is his. You sent me to the short term psych ward in the hospital once again. A place that both scares me and helps me. You introduced me to EMDR therapy, a therapy that saved my life after the grief of having to return my boy to DCF due to my failing mental health. You rewarded me with a new job that gives me the opportunity to travel to places I have never been… Indiana, Tennessee, Georgia and areas of California. You were the decade of my 30s, my decade of learning.

Now I need to turn my attention to 2020, and the decade that will be my 40s. I bid you farewell 2019. My aim will be to try not to look back. I am determined to make your successor the year of strength. I am not going to make excuses anymore and live in your shadow.

I woke up this morning a little giddy. Excited that you will be gone in less than 24 hours. That I can take my life back, take me back from the spiraling depression you put me in. I will return to the gym. I will eat correctly again (heck, I’ll eat again). I will take back what is rightfully mine. I will focus on my mental health, taking inventory of what I need and exploring other therapies, other medications. I will welcome 40 with open arms in February, living it up with friends and family (trying new craft beers, yum!). I will get back to my blog, back to True Crime Tuesdays, back to possibly republishing Rising From the Ashes.

And this decade coming up… there is so much that will happen. My baby girl will graduate middle school in 2020, high school in 2024 and most likely college all in the next ten years. There is a chance I will see her get married toward the end of the decade. There will be many more trips to see places & things I never have, like the redwoods of northern CA and the cheese state of Wisconsin. I will continue to write, focusing on the other books that have be swirling around in my head. Maybe I will become a peer specialist, just a plethora of possibilities.

There is so much that I can make happen, and for the first time in a long while, I am excited!

Adios 2019! Sayonara 2010-2019! Good-bye 30s!

Welcome 2020, my 40s, my time to bring me back!

Mental Health Monday: Poetry “Hidden Pain”

On By spaige08In anxiety, depression, mental health, mental illness, poetry, strength, Uncategorized, writing2 Comments

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I had a rough day early last week. When I am having one of those days, I write poetry:

Hidden Pain

I am good at masking my pain,

It is a lesson I learned long ago,

Smile,

For the camera,

With a friend,

Along at work,

Hiding the pain that never ends.

 

I am lonely all the time,

Even with family and friends,

Alone,

When the sun rises,

As the wind blows,

Amongst company,

The negative thoughts always flow.

 

I am an expert at falsities,

Creating an alternate reality,

Growth,

Shame that has prevailed,

Hatred that boils,

Losing myself once again,

Being stuck in internal turmoil.

 

I am beginning to think this is it,

I am meant to internally suffer,

Pain,

Mental, like no other,

A black hole of sorts,

An emotional anguish,

Forever a ring of retort.

 

I am tired of constantly feeling this way,

So drained of strength that I seem to portray,

Tired,

When the sun has risen,

As the faux smile is reborn,

Over and over,

My body slashed and torn.

Stephanie Paige © 9/28/19

4 Years Ago… A New Blog

On By spaige08In Advocacy, anxiety, depression, foster mom, mental health, postpartum, PTSD, stigma, strength, Uncategorized, writing1 Comment

4 years ago, I started a blog. I needed a way to express what I was feeling after losing my foster son back to the Department of Children & Families (DCF). It was a horrible time in my life. I have never felt so low, so pointless. I couldn’t comprehend the thoughts in my head. I couldn’t understand why my mental health was not stable enough for me to parent another child.

“Why me?!”

So many times that phrase went through my head.

Because I needed clarity, a place to vent, to try to understand, I decided to write about it. On January 5th, 2015, I published my first entry. I titled it, “My First Time Was When I Was 14“ through Google’s blogger. I began from the beginning, the first time I was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder, the first of six episodes… each one getting progressively worse.

The entries continued. I was raw, laid all my emotions out for the world to read. I was emotionally and mentally unstable.

What did I want people to know? I wanted them to understand what it was like living with a condition that affects your brain.

It was a long time before I could accept things the way they were but once I did, I was so much better. I was content. I could look at images of my former foster son and smile instead of cursing myself internally. I was human again. I thank so many people in my lives for that… my husband, my daughter, my parents, my EMDR therapist (thank you S.B.!) and, of course, myself.

4 years ago, I was dying, a corpse of my former self. Today, today I am the strength trifecta, strong physically, mentally & emotionally. It was a long journey, and although I suffered greatly, I wouldn’t change it. It has made me the me I am today.

So, what does that mean for S. Paige Writes?

I no longer struggle with Major Depressive Disorder (MDD). I no longer suffer from PTSD. Even my Persistent Depressive Disorder (PDD) is under control. The only mental illness that I still combat daily is my Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD). That being said, I still have plenty more to write in regards to all the mental illnesses I have encountered, but, I will also be writing more about, well anything.

I have been into writing since I was a child. I wrote endless amounts of stories (but never finished any of them). I wrote poetry. I branched out into publishing my life. So, why limit it to just my mental health?

I will still write about my experience with Postpartum Depression and Anxiety. I will still write about my MDD, PDD, GAD & PTSD. But, you may see a few poems mixed in, a few chapter blurbs from the fiction work I am writing, a few article reviews, local news items and a few humorous items.

S. Paige Writes is back from her hiatus with a new blog look and new content!

Weight Is Just A Number

On By spaige08In Body shaming, depression, mental health, self care, strength, weight, writingLeave a comment

“I’ve gained weight.”

 

A statement that is uttered internally by almost every woman at some point in their lives and most likely more than once.  ‘Weight’… we are so focused on that one word which essentially, as my geeky husband who studied physics and astronomy in college would say, is our gravitational pull to the Earth’s core.  Fairly interesting when you realize how heavy you are on Jupiter (for me 321 lbs) and how light you are on Pluto (8.5 lbs).  Now if I thought my weight on Jupiter was huge, using the site https://www.exploratorium.edu/ronh/weight/ I can see that my weight on Earth is nothing compared to my weight on a Neutron Star (17780000000000 lbs).

 

Enough about the solar system.  My goal here is to shatter the high standards we as women place on ourselves when it comes to how much we weigh.  I have covered Body Shaming prior to this, but I believe there needs to be more as even since that post, I haven’t stopped shaming myself 100% until a few months ago.

 

I have spent my life so focused on the number that the scale would spit up at me.  I dwelled on it.  I would see my ‘thunder thighs’ and cry.  I yo-yo dieted in college, eating crap during the semester and then following Weight Watchers during summer break.  Up 10lbs, down 10lbs. Up 15lbs, down 15lbs. Up 15lbs… uh oh!  By the time I got married, I was heavy but would not admit it until at age 25, when my resting blood pressure was 150/90 and my cholesterol was elevated.  Now I had to pay attention.  Still focused on that stupid number on the scale, I dove right in to following Weight Watchers day and night.  And it worked.  The number on the scale went down.  At one point, even after having my daughter, I was down to 112lbs.  I thought I would finally be happy with my figure.

 

But I wasn’t.

 

It wasn’t until I hit my mid to late thirties where I said to myself, “Steph, is it really the weight?  Is it really the number on the scale?!”  At first, due to my latest episode of Depression I was suffering from (where I dropped to 104lbs and then proceeded to gain way more back), I answered with a “Hell yes!”  It was hard to do anything during this time.  I had no motivation.  Exercise, ha! That was never going to happen.  Food, if I thought something would make me happy, I ate it.  This went on for 2 years.

 

And then I had had enough.

 

Nothing I was doing was making me feel better.  I sat back and really thought about when I was happy, when I felt… strong.  Whoa, where did that word come from?!  Strong?!  Ah, Stephanie, now you are on to something.  Maybe instead of focusing on my weight so much, I should focus on my strength.  I had mostly accomplished this with working on my mental and emotional strength in therapy, now was the time to remedy my physical strength.

 

I stopped aiming for my previous weight of 115 lbs. and started to focus on what I could do to be healthy and get strong.  I wanted to teach my daughter that weight was just a number.  I watched what I was eating and joined a gym.  My first personal trainer listened to my goals but chose to ignore the ‘lose weight’ aspect.  He heard ‘strong’ and went with it.  I started barbell squatting, sumo squatting and front squatting.  I was doing bicep curls, tricep kick-backs and chest presses.  I was beginning to feel strong again.

 

The number on the scale didn’t budge. And then my trainer up and fell of the face of the planet (really no one has heard from him in over 6 months).  What was I going to do?  I continued with this circuit but knew I was slacking in eating healthy.

 

Then the gym offered a program guided by a different personal trainer.  I was skeptical at first but knew my focus was on strength.  No way was I going to ‘Lose Big’ (as the program is titled).  This trainer provided us with nutrition basics, info on Macros, insightful tips and, frankly, kick-ass workouts!  After the 10 weeks were over, I had lost only 3lbs, but other things occurred.  I dropped several inches and lowered my body fat percentage.  This was working.  When this trainer decided to run this program again, I said “Sign me up!”

 

And… I haven’t lost any weight so far.  I am 127lbs at my 5’-0 ¾” stature.  I am a bit proud of this.  Why?!  Because my smaller clothes fit.  Because this means I am building muscle. And because my body fat percentage is in the Fitness Level.  I can now barbell squat over 150lbs and feel energized.  I sleep better.  My mental health is better.  I feel stronger.

 

And to me, strength equals happiness, not some stupid number on the scale.