The Unwanted Visitor

I can't make any promises about not writing about this again a few times before June. It's my 10 year out of the cult into the real world anniversary coming up. I feel really good these days. My friends say I look great again, not the way I used to, all skinny and sick. I can honestly say I'm happy.

I feel like Margaux 2.0, just ten years older and a bit more weathered. That doesn't mean however that I won't have relapses. I've been through a lot of change this past year. I feel it's helping me grow, but people worry about me when I feel down. My therapist says that once you've been through a major depression it's prone to re-visit.

Sometimes something triggers it, sometimes it's just being tired, sad or frustrated. Sometimes it's because I really miss someone I've lost. I've learned coping skills on how to move ahead when that happens, but that doesn't mean it will stop it from happening once in awhile.

The reason I speak out about it is I feel I'm helping people by breaking the stigma. We could tuck it away in the closet and pretend we're fine all the time but I think that's what makes people crazy. Now my go-to is: Let it out. Cry. Spend a whole day wallowing if you need to. Take a nap. Watch something fun on Netflix. Then wipe your eyes and get up tomorrow knowing it's a new day with no mistakes in it yet. Depression Lies. Tell your unwanted visitor his time is up and he has to leave now.

I've always been a tiny (huge) bit dramatic and that's what us writers and artists are, aren't we? I don't think I'm that dramatic anymore because I feel safe and secure, but I still have those days when I need to focus on self-care. We were going out the other night to watch the Raptors play. On the way there Jay was like "Who's my crazy girl? You are. But you're MY crazy girl". He's right. I can be crazy. I'll go out for a walk and come home with a puppy or a kitten or someone who needs to crash on our couch indefinitely.

At the end of the day, it's refreshing to have someone who loves me not because were in the same cult or they're trying to control what I do, but because they think I deserve to be loved. Who sits with me when I cry sometimes. Who holds my hand through anything and everything and always says "we got this". Who helps me lock the door when my unwanted visitor comes calling. Who shows me I'm so much more than just someone who was raised in a cult, abandoned by most family and friends, who deals with depression every now and then.

This is real love and I know it doesn't happen every day. Whatever you're going through, there are people are out there who will love you regardless. Find your people. You have the power, you just have to believe in that for yourself. The sun is shining again and ps. get a dog :)

If you can't love yourself how the hell are you ever going to love someone else? Can I get an Amen? *RuPaul

Sullivan out.

Rewrite the Stars

Yes, I have been on hiatus. It was an awful winter. I'm not complaining, just stating a fact.

But here I am. I've been feeling depressed again. It's recent. As in this week. I love how unpredictable it can be. You go through all this really hard shit and most people aren't  really there for you, yet you're fine. Then...once you finally start to feel a little bit better...WHAM! You're depressed again. I don't like talking about it. Not because I'm not a huge advocate for mental health, y'all know I am. I'm also me. I'm proud. To me it feels like a weakness to admit it.

I told my guy today I was struggling. He was like, I'm depressed too. I just looked at him. I'm pretty sure he was joking. I thought, I would be too if I had me for a girlfriend. He's like the guy who you wish all your other boyfriends had been but weren't and that's why you are still single.

"They" say depression is all in our head. Like they are superior. Like their heads are better, stronger places to be. My brother says that all the time but I think living in his head must be a fucking mess. :)

I think what works as healing for each of us is different but for me, I know I'm usually in that place because I feel like I'm not good enough. That idea was ingrained in me since I was able to talk. With the Witnesses you're never good enough. Never. No matter what.

Now, I feel like I should be able to snap my fingers and get over my past life. Today I had to look in the mirror and tell myself it's okay to not be okay.

They had 32 years of brainwashing on me. Somehow, I found the strength to walk away and not go back. That leaves me with about half my life to re-write the story and figure out who the hell I am, what I want to do and who I want to do it with.

The thing about Big Dreams, like starting over, is you have to do them for yourself. I couldn't have stayed for Travis, I couldn't have left for Adam. I had to do it for me. When I was ready. Alone.

We were at the beach with Max this afternoon and Jay looks at me and says you need to go. And I was like, I've been writing in my head. (He encourages this even though I'm always silently talking to myself.) Next he says, you'll call it rewrite the stars. How did he know that?

But we can. We can start over. We can rewrite. We can take the path we're on that makes us miserable and turn a corner. Pick up some strays and create your own new destiny.

It's never going to be perfect and from experience, not usually easy. Last night I cried and I was like what did I do this all for? I wrecked my life. Jay just said, "You wanted to be free. Now you are."

He's right. They gave more than enough time to rethink my decision to rewrite my life. I wouldn't change anything. And that's what I need to remind myself of on those odd sad Saturday mornings.

I am brave. I am free. This is who I was meant to be. This is me. 

Ps. Since we're talking about our journey being written in the stars, check out Kyla's new Zodiac Collection - buy a mala!!

The Happiness Project

"If you want to be happy, be." - Tolstoy

After my most recent brush with death, I haven't spent very much time trying to figure life out. It's strange, I think a lot of times, people who go through that have these great epiphanies. "Oh now I know what I want, what was missing, where to channel my energy in life." Not me. And I used to be a great romantic. Maybe I've just almost died too many times. 

I walked out of the hospital, went home to bed and cursed the entire time I was in recovery. Not on the outside. When my family (who worries about me) calls, I'm "great". My girlfriend kept asking me "How do you stay so happy and positive? I'd be going mental." Truth be told, I kinda was. But I manned up. I was diligent about healthy food and taking my meds on time and going to all my doctor's appointments, even when there were four or five of them in a week. I worked so hard to get better, even when I wasn't sure that's what I wanted. I don't even write anymore. 

I've gradually re-introduced myself to real life and there's one thing I've noticed. People in general are just not happy. I was talking to a kid today (like a 20-something) and asked him why did he think our generation is so messed up? My friends are smart, successful, stable, good-looking. Why aren't they happy? He said he thought the world has always been like this, but now there's more awareness. More effort to break the stigmas around mental health and allow people to be honest and get the help they need. That's the answer you'd expect from someone young and optimistic. 

Y'all know I've been through a couple of bad depressions. This time though, I didn't go back there. Maybe I was just in survival mode. Maybe I've done such a good job on my positivity campaign that I've even fooled myself into thinking that I'm happy. 

I had lunch with my girlfriend today and she said: "But Margaux, you don't have any problems!" Okay buddy. I have news for you. I've had some bad years. Every year I think things will get better but they don't. 2016? Don't let the door hit you on the way out. I got very, very sick. I don't have a job. I dated two guys in the past year, really liked both of them. I hate online dating but I met them both in real life. Everything was great, until out of the blue they each dumped me for no reason they cared to share. If I don't find a job soon I'll probably have to pack up my dog and either be homeless or move back to the Maritimes. It's scary some days. 

I think the trap of the idea of "happiness" is just that we think we all deserve it. And we deserve to feel it ALL the time. Of course, if I could wave a wand and make everyone in the world happy, I would. But that's not the world we live in. Even if you get that job you really want, or the guy you want to marry, the kids, the financial stability, the health...every day it's still going to be up to you to get up and decide if you're happy or not. It's really not our circumstances, it's our mindset. I'm not trying to downplay depression and anxiety, I know all too well that they can be consuming. I still have old JW-life nightmares when I wake up scared and confused and I don't remember what happened to half my family, to my husband. After a few minutes it comes back and I realize this is my life now. I have to get out of bed regardless. 

If I had to go back, I'd make most of the same decisions all over again, with a few tweaks. Knowing you're doing your best and being true to yourself - that's a big part of the Happiness Project. We all need to work at it. But if you do it long enough, it doesn't really seem to be so much work. :)

Here's something that makes me happy: pink hair. If I wasn't afraid I might actually get called for an interview one of these days, I'd keep it. Find whatever it is that makes you happy. When things are good, smile all day. It won't make the bad days go away, but it will give you something to draw on to get you through to tomorrow. 

Sullivan out. 

Live Free or Die Hard

It's election day in the US. Apparently everyone is moving to Canada if Trump gets elected. I've learned a thing or two over the past years. I tried, foolishly probably, to fight the Jehovah's Witnesses. I thought if I could just expose them for what they are, people would listen and things would change. We could free people from their mind control, their ability to control everyone's life who has been touched by them. I failed.

People better and stronger than me have tried to stand up for freedom of thought, of choice, of religion. I think it's a noble cause. But it takes it's toll.

I haven't blogged in months and that's because I worked so hard to sell hope on here. Even though I just kept getting gutted and I didn't want everyone to know that. Part of that was my bad choices, the wrong decisions I made. Part of it was sabotage from people who were supposed to love me.

A couple of months ago, I ended up in the hospital again. I wasn't supposed to live this time. Being given a one in ten chance of survival is not encouraging. Then they came to me with some papers to sign to say I would accept blood transfusions. Now, that's a big no-no with the J-dubs. As much as I'd felt I'd moved on, they still did and always will have a hold on me. I hesitated. I was alone and didn't know what to do. I was so sad when I got out of the hospital and found out a 27-year-old mother in Quebec refused them and gave into constant pressure from elders (NOT DOCTORS) from the organization who relentlessly pressured her to say no. She died.

Whether it's politics or personal, it seems that we can't control much more than our own personal well-being. These big, powerful, rich people and corporations might, at the end of the day, always win. But we can keep up the fight. As long as we always remember to take care of ourselves. Get rid of the anger, resentment, grief. We need to feel those emotions...fully...and then move on. It's okay to be weak. It's okay to be broken.

This morning I weighed 98 lbs. And when I hit my yoga mat, I was angry at my limitations. All of us though are here for a reason. You are, I am. Whatever happens to us, if we can look at the big picture, we are a tiny speck that could be gone at any time. But for now, this is our place. We can still make the world better, no matter who is President, who is in control, and even if we lose a little along the way. As long as we don't lose ourselves. :)

Remember: The world breaks everyone. Then many are strong in the broken places. We have two choices people: Live Free or Die Hard.

Sullivan out.

I love you like XO

Here's your Saturday morning song.

In the darkest night I'll search through the crowd. Your face is all that I see, I'll give you everything. I love you like XO.   - John Mayer

John Mayer is an asshole but he's right. We don't have forever. This blog might not be the greatest because I've been up all night. #CAMH #OneBraveNight

I've spent the last seven years chasing for, crying over lost love from people I wanted to keep. Maybe though, love shouldn't be this hard. My best friend says that it should be organic. Let it grow. That's what happened with the two of us. We don't always get along but we always stay together.

Daylight is wasting. It's time to get real. There has been a few health issues in my family lately and honestly, I haven't been on my game because I've been so stressed about that. I realized something. We need to focus on the people who love us back, not the ones who don't. The ones who are there for us no matter what. Unconditional love is rare in our day. But since I left the Jdubs, I've been finding it everywhere.

Last night was about supporting people who suffer from mental health issues. I've been there and maybe I will be again. At the moment though, I have a dog I didn't want, a bunch of friends I never would have picked in my past life and a family who I didn't pay much attention to when I was in the cult.

And I couldn't be happier that they are the ones who saved me.

I love you like XO. :)

Sullivan out.

Being Brave

Re-post! I thought this was relevant considering the fact that I am going to attempt to stay up all night on Friday for CAMH's One Brave Night event. Y'all know I have to work all week and then try to stay awake all night. We're raising money to support the organization that supports those living with mental health issues. A lot of brave people have dealt with depression and we can get better if we do the hard work to get there. But we need a little help along the way. :)

There's still time to donate - this is the link! Click click! Ps. If you do donate please buy me a sleep pass. For $20 I can sleep for an hour. :)

I would rather be a coward than brave because people hurt you when you are brave. 
- E. M. Forster

Courage is a quality that is difficult to develop, because it forces you to look in the mirror and realize who you are and then have the balls to go out there and be better than that.

I know many courageous people. And being brave doesn't mean we always succeed. (Game of Thrones taught us all that fact.) Sometimes it just means we take on a task, not knowing if we'll be good at it or not. Not knowing the outcome. Maybe we even think we will fail. But we show up and try.

This happens in careers, in families, in relationships, in finding peace of mind, in overcoming addictions, in ending a relationship that's not working and being alone again, in confronting an important ex, in applying for a job you know you won't get, in pushing yourself outside of your comfort zone and meeting someone new, in telling your family the truth about who you are, in telling someone you love them when you aren't sure they will say it back. In being true to yourself.

But we find courage and bravery in that part of ourselves that we didn't know we had and do it anyway.

If we were never brave, no one would make friends, become lovers, get married, have children, follow their dreams, because we could fail. Sometimes it's our mistakes that shape our future and, in the end, make us successful.

And hey, at the end of the day, if our attempt at being courageous doesn't work, we have a friend who will give us a hug, a dog who will sleep at our feet, and maybe even a glass of wine to sip as we look out the window of our fabulous but very expensive downtown apartment and think about how to wake up tomorrow and try to be brave all over again.

Sullivan out.

You gotta have FAITH

Before this river becomes an ocean, before you throw my heart back on the floor...I've gotta have Faith. ~ George Michael

This was my friends favorite song. You can't even imagine how many hours I spent trying to get the slideshow I put together for the celebration of his life to perfectly match timing with the two songs I chose. This was the second one.

Too many hours. And not enough hours. With his family not here, someone had to step up and take care of that. He was right though.

No matter what happens in life, faith keeps us going. Yesterday, I was feeling overwhelmed. After his death, my dog got really sick. These are external influences. It's not feel sorry for Margaux time, it's just that I've had a lot to process lately. Work was really busy, I was worried about Max.

I was walking home from work, I'd been trying to suppress a panic attack all day. Usually, I come home for lunch. Yesterday I was too busy. By the time 6 pm came around, I was in full panic mode. I always walk past Saks because I love the dresses in the windows. I started throwing up. That's what happens when the panic attacks hit emergency.

I threw up four times. On the street in front of their lovely window displays. A lot of people walked past me. They looked at me. They probably could have thought I was a drug addict or something. Except I was dressed corporate and had a Kate Spade purse and had been at work all day.

I didn't know if I was going to make it home. The fourth time though, a woman came up to me. She asked if I was okay or I needed help.

At the end of the day, those 30 or 40 others who just walked past me don't matter. It's that one in a few people who make all the difference. The ones who make sure your river doesn't become an ocean that you're drowning in.

I told her I was close to home and I'd be okay.

It taught me something. We need to recognize and appreciate those really good people out there. I've been on both sides, as a sufferer and supporter. We need more of you on our side. Be kind to one another. Don't let the river become an ocean.

I have the best people behind me now: family (non-jw), friends, work, random strangers. Who have been extraordinarily kind.

People like that give me faith. :)

Sullivan out.

I Dreamed a Dream

It's Friday, blog night. 

I'm kind of on a Les Mis kick at the moment. So. I dreamed a dream. I was always a dreamer. And since my dreams have all been shattered, I've become an advocate. 

For the ex-Jws of course. For people suffering from mental health issues, yes.

I am so proud to be participating in CAMH One Brave Night for Mental Health, the all-night challenge to defeat mental illness.

Y'all know I can't stay awake after 11 pm so this should be interesting.

I’ll be staying awake all night on May 13 to inspire hope for the one in five people who experience mental illness in their lifetime. This is my way of inspiring hope for people with mental illness. As you know, I've been on both sides of this challenge, as a sufferer and supporter. Two weeks ago I lost one of my friends to this battle.

I want to help, but to do that, I need your help.

Please help me reach my fundraising goal by visiting my personal page and donating any amount, however small. I appreciate whatever you can give – it all adds up and helps those living with mental illness! Making a tax-deductible donation online is quick and easy.

I greatly appreciate your support and will keep you posted on my progress. We all post a selfie at sunrise so if I make it, it will be thanks to you.

It's weird but I still miss my mother. She was never very good at being a mother but she was what I got dealt in life. I watched the movie with her. "There are dreams that cannot be, and there are storms we cannot weather. I had a dream my life would be so different from this hell I'm living."

My life is definitely not hell. But I've been there and back. This weekend, I help organize a memorial for my friend who didn't see a way out of the darkness. 

If you can find it in your heart to donate to this very good cause, I would really appreciate it. 

Margaux out. (yes, that's my name)

http://give.camh.ca/site/TR/OBN/OneBraveNight?px=1079129&pg=personal&fr_id=1070

RIP

Word to the wise: even if Les Mis is one of your favorite books, don't watch the movie on a Sunday if you've had a bad week. Every song just makes you cry.

I would like to thank everyone who has been so kind and supportive to me and my friend Jay after hearing about the passing of our friend a few days ago. My ex used to say if I wanted to make this blog better I could just tell the truth. No sugar coating or waxing poetic.

So this isn't a feel good blog. Sometimes, life just sucks. In some ways, I'm almost envious of my friend. He was in pain, he wanted this life to be over and now it is for him. I've actually heard of three suicides this week, there must be some kind of energy shift in the universe.

I was talking to another friend today who, like me, like my friend, has attempted to kill himself. When I told him about my friend, he was like "good for him". He and I both woke up in hospital rooms in paper diapers hooked up to an IV and our first thought was "Fuck. I'm failing at life and I can't even get this death thing done right."

He and I are both happy with our lives now. But the work it takes to get there? It's hard. It's exhausting. It takes years. And you still live with the sadness. As you know, I decided to disfellowship myself from the Jehovah's Witnesses. I've tried over and over through the past three years. Someone always cried or begged me not to and I would just take it back. Every time.

This time, I got the same messages. Please reconsider. Please be sure that this is really what you want. I had to be more direct. Why do they even want me to stay? I'm a huge apostate. I walk up to people on the street talking to them and warn them it's a dangerous cult and they should keep walking. I've called our their elders as selfish, perverted cowards and bullies. I've told them my husband, also an elder, was abusive. We were together over ten years. He remarried one of my supposed friends in about 5 minutes after he divorced me.

I lost the only man I will ever really love because it took me too long to do this. Yes, it's been seven years and I'm still in love with Adam. Can you say single forever?

This time the elders respected my wishes and made the announcement on Tuesday. I got the email from Walter on Wednesday. He sounded sad and I felt bad for him. He is definitely one of the good ones. I'm sorry to let him down. I'm not sorry I made that decision though.

I might always live with the nightmares. Wake up every morning with panic attacks. At least I'm free. It's actually harder than I thought, killing the JW aspect of my life. It was such a huge part of me for so long. I've found some little bit of peace with this step. I don't know if I'm really helping anyone with this blog. And obviously I can't save my friends, even if I know what they are going through. All we can really do is try our best. I don't know what happens when we die, but I'm hoping George is in a better place. Rest in peace, my friend. I'll get there someday.

Sullivan out.

Where the Light Is

"Gravity has taken better men than me. Just keep me where the light is." - John Mayer

One of my friends has been going through a hard time. I tried my best to help. A lot of us did. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough. He decided to take his own life.

I got the phone call at work. My first reaction was NO. It can't be true. My second reaction was just to start crying. Which I did all night, this morning and that's not over yet.

The whole reason I had decided to be so open on this blog was to raise awareness. Most of my life has been completely embarrassing. And putting it out there definitely does not benefit me in any way. But if I could help anyone - ex-JW, someone living with mental health issues - that's what I wanted to do.

Bell does a "Let's Talk" day every year to raise awareness for mental health issues. This is not a one day a year issue. It's great that they do that. And it's great that a lot of you out there support the charities that support these people. My people.

If you really want to help though, it takes more than writing a check. Or showing up at a fundraiser. It takes all of us to educate ourselves, to be alert to the warning signs, to make those one on one connections with the ones who suffer. Listen, be there for them, help them get the help they need.

This old school mentality has got to go and make room for awareness and acceptance. Some of the comments I've received in the past day just reinforced that for me. "He was so selfish." "Was he on drugs?"

I realize that drug and alcohol abuse can be factors in the equation sometimes, but not always. Sometimes people just get dealt a bad hand in life and they get very sad.

As far as the selfish comments go, yes, maybe it is selfish, but try looking at it from the other perspective. I've been through it. I've tried to kill myself. I wasn't trying to hurt anyone. I didn't send out angry messages or write a letter blaming anyone. Sometimes, we are pushed beyond our capacity for pain. When that happens, we can end up in a place where we never wanted to go. A dark place. Where there's no light at the end of the tunnel. Where the hurt is so bad, all we want is for it to stop. Where as much as we genuinely love the people in our life, we don't care anymore that they will cry tomorrow. It just needs to be over. For us.

I've been so lucky. The second time I became suicidal, I didn't just take four bottles of pills and go to bed. I asked for help and I had a network that rallied around me. A workplace that supported me. Aunts and Uncles to go home to, who took care of me until I was no longer a threat to myself. A $200/hour therapist who first cut his fees in half and then just treated me for free.

Not everyone is that lucky. Although my friend had loving friends, he obviously didn't have the support he needed. Over the past couple of weeks, he kept telling me how much he valued our friendship. He wasn't angry, he was just sad. He kept telling me how much he looked up to me, how strong he thought I was for getting through my challenges in life. How proud he was of me.

I've been where he was and I still misread the signs. I thought he was saying those things because I was inspiring him to get better. Now, I think it was because he didn't feel like he would ever get there.

All I'm asking of all of you out there is please, please be alert. 1 in 4 Canadians have suffered or are suffering from depression. Watch for the signs. Be patient and kind. Pick up the phone when they call even if you're rolling your eyes and thinking you don't want to listen to this story again. You just might save a life.

He called me on Wednesday. I was volunteering at a charity event all day. I didn't pick up, I thought, I'll just call him back later. Later was too late.

We all struggle with the back and forth between the light and the darkness. When you're in the light, shine it on others. That way, when you're in the dark, there will be someone around to show you the way back out.

Sullivan out.

Fragile Bird

Over 2,500 years ago, the Buddha identified anger as one of the three poisons that hinder our progress towards liberation from suffering. 

In psychology, it's also #2 in the five stages of grief. Grieving is a personal process that has no time limit and no one "right way" to do it. 

I'm so over the Jehovah's Witnesses. There are only five people who still have a hold over me, who are able to make me sad, bring back the depression, the sleepless nights, the panic attacks. People I have been trying to forget about for the past five years. They are, in order of importance: Travis, Adam, Vivian, Erin and Linda. I don't usually use real names on here anymore so you may have no idea who they are and that's okay. I just wanted to say their names. 

I'm a little bit angry at them, but anger has never really been my go-to emotion. I mostly just get sad. 

Below is a link to an interesting article. Almost half of the people dealing with depression and mental health issues wouldn't disclose them - to family, work, friends. For fear of the stigma related to the condition. If you have cancer, that's socially acceptable. People will rally around you, support you, talk about their friend who is fighting such a courageous battle. (And they should - this is in no way trying to belittle what those brave people go through.) This battle though? Is for the most part silent. God forbid anyone knows you're crying in the bathroom at work, faking your smile at lunch with a friend or even worse, not leaving the house at all so you don't have to put in all that effort. 

http://www.thestar.com/life/health_wellness/2015/02/27/im-writing-this-because-i-dont-want-to-die-jowita-bydlowska-on-shame-and-mental-illness.html

We should talk about it though. We should make those who are suffering feel they have support to speak up and seek help. The alternative? On average 4,000 Canadians die every year from suicide. 

Recently, I've been sad again, I've been angry. I can't predict that it won't come back. But I don't want to be that fragile bird that lets other people control how I feel about myself. It's too much power to give them. 

My best friends favorite cousin passed away. She received a short, curt email from the family. No invitation to the funeral. I honestly don't understand these people. Where is their compassion and love they preach so passionately about? 

There has been a wave of media coverage on the sex abuse scandals and cover ups amoungst the Jehovah's Witnesses recently. That makes me happy. Not that those things happened, but that people are becoming strong enough to speak out against them. 

This reporter has done a lot of work to tell the truth: 
https://www.facebook.com/TreyBundy?ref=profile

Let's show our support for all the people who have suffered or are suffering now. For the people who are brave enough to speak out and have a voice. If enough of us can do it, we may be able to make a difference. Not to break the stigma of mental health (that will take much more time). Not to take down a multi-billion dollar organization who pleads the first amendment as a reason they can cover up child abuse cases within their congregations. (That may never happen.)

One of the smartest people I know - my boss - always says we have to start to start. 

I got this for my birthday (not to kill anyone with, my therapist just thought I needed some inspiration to feel more empowered).

We might be fragile on our own, but together who knows what we can do? Let's not give up and look to each others stories and battles for hope, courage and inspiration. 

Sullivan out.  

Two men, Margaux and a puppy

It's been an interesting month. JJ had to move out of his place. 

Me: Just stay with me until you find something new. 

He moves in. 

Two days later I get an unexpected visit from my brother. He also needs a place until September. I spent a couple of days moving things around, throwing things out. Making space in my already sparse apartment. 

My girlfriend Robin has a dog. She usually has dog walkers and puppy daycare, but she thought I might like some company, being off work and all. So every morning, Gidget shows up and spends the day with us. 

It's a little cramped, we have too much stuff. It's a bit more messy, three people and a dog make more of a mess than me by myself. There is some kind of dead carcass here with antlers, I don't even want to try to figure that shit out. We have a hard time sorting out whose underwear is whose after we do laundry. 

I can't say though that I'm not enjoying it. I've been on my own for SO long, the voices and music and tv are comforting. It's nice to have a little family. I guess in some ways, this is how I thought life would end up for me, with noise and mess and people eating my raspberries (ah um, Micheal). But it didn't. (Except the stealing all my raspberries incident, that is real.)

I can't believe the month is almost over and things will eventually go back to normal. This mandatory time-out from work has been terrible, awful and great all at the same time. For the first 6 or 7 weeks I was too sick to think about anything. I was just in survival mode. Survive this trip to the ER. Survive this stay in the hospital. Survive this slew of doctor's appointments. Do this and you'll be fine. 

Now though, I'm starting to get better. And I've realized that I needed to go through this because if I hadn't, I wouldn't have figured out what's the most important thing. I love my job, I lived for it. I miss my colleagues because I've been blessed with having great people to go to every day. 

People, friends, family, that's what matters. We are all fucked up. As much as we try to pretend things are fine, advance our careers, plan for financial aspects, it really does not matter at the end of the day if we aren't able to come home, pick up the phone and find a way to help each other be okay. 

The amount of love and support I've received over the past couple of months...there are no words...except thank you. Thank you for meeting me for lunch, for having picnics in the park, for sharing your dog, for calling, for texting, for moving in with me and making me feel less alone.

Three's company but four is definitely a crowd. I couldn't throw any of you out though. This is the best month I've had in a long time. But Christ's sake, stop stealing my fruit. :) 

A-Type Ambition

Alright, the past couple of weeks haven't been smooth sailing. I  cry more than usual when I watch Glee (that's my happy crying time), I haven't been completely on my game at work and to be completely honest, I've been freaking out a little. 

It was the perfect storm. Hey, mom's back in town. Shit. All these months of waiting for this article to come out when she was away, and now look, here she is and there it is. Bad timing. Then, after a year of no contact, "Big" decides to drunk text me. After a year. Then, this article comes out. People at work are having brunch with people who are talking about it. 

Then I do these two mental health week events where I told my story and now everyone wants to tell me their story. You know, we talked about how we all face difficult times but we pretend things are fine and then we all feel alone. Tell your story publicly and you'll see that it's silly that we suffer in silence. People have come to me and talked about their battle with depression, with anxiety, with suicidal feelings, with spousal abuse, with marriage break-ups, with partners who deal with depression or addictions. 

Build in the ex-jw community that's been contacting me every day and I'm feeling a little overwhelmed. I decided I wanted to be an activist. Tell my story to help others. And I have to believe it is helping. So many people have told me so. 

Perhaps people with anxiety issues should not become activists though. Someone from work cautioned me about doing all of this at once and if I was smarter, I would have listened. Because of course, bringing up all my past and hearing everyone else's, I'm flying with slightly broken wings right now. Trying to keep my head above water. (I know, I can't be both a bird and a fish. But I'm A-type, I can try.) :)

I guess all I really want to say is, I'm humbled and grateful for everyone who's contacted me, who has shown support, who has shared their stories with me. But I'm also a little fragile right now and I live in a world where my family who does support me is far, far away and my support group here is limited. Please be patient with me while I adjust. You know you can trust me to always give it my best shot, even when I'm not perfectly succeeding. :)

After the Rain

"The nice thing about rain is that it always stops. Eventually." - Eeyore

I have some important things to say today, but first of all, let's clear something up. 

These comments I'm getting on my blog "I'm awesome at dating and other lies..." - just to be clear, I did NOT have a threesome. I'm really not the type. The blog was meant to be a funny comedy of errors that turned what was meant to be a low-key, romantic evening into a disaster date. It ends with a friend showing up to crash on the couch (ie. not romantic) but when I said we all woke up together in the morning what I meant was in my tiny apartment. Not in the same bed. Get your minds out of the gutter people!

I'm glad we cleared that up. :)

So you know how I told you I'm speaking on a panel for an event at work for Mental Health Week. I had a meeting with the colleague who's running it today about the whole thing. There's three of us, apparently they get over 100 people who show up to listen to our sad stories. 

She had printed me out a list of questions to think about while planning what I was going to share. How has mental illness affected your life? Have a noticed a stigma around it? What would you like others to know about the situation that you are dealing with? What were key components that changed your life for the positive? 

It's funny to think of myself as someone with "mental illness". Despite a challenging upbringing, I've always thought of myself as a happy girl. My nickname growing up was "Sunshine". 

But I guess that just means I buy into the stigma - the very one I'm trying to break - myself. The whole purpose behind this blog, behind the magazine article I did, behind getting up there in front of my work colleagues and telling my story, is simply to help others. If I took myself too seriously, I'd never be able to out myself as mentally ill. 

It's embarrassing, no doubt about it. I've worked extremely hard to present a certain persona and hide my issues related to depression and anxiety, especially in the workplace. I'm pretty sure that's why I still have a job. 

Here I go back to my Buddhist beliefs, but it's a noble truth: life is suffering. At some point or another, we all face demons, whether we deserve them to show up in our life or not. Living the way I did as a JW, trying to constantly pretend everything was fine and I was always happy is no way to live. This is not to say I dwell in negativity. I work very, very hard to stay positive and upbeat. In answer to the "what would you like others to know" question I would say this: we all go through difficult times. Sickness, death, divorce, unfair situations. We can't be expected to always be fine. The rain falls in all of our lives at different times, in different ways. 

Getting disfellowshipped and divorced were tragic experiences for me, but I also went through hell when my Cat died. We can't control things. I think the most important thing I want people to take away from this experience is that when we deal with depression, anxiety, addictions, that doesn't make us weak. Because we are dealing with them. That makes us strong. 

I've spent years in therapy, going to yoga, meditating, reading positive, life changing literature. These things have changed my life in a positive way. Putting myself out there with new people, trying to rebuild some kind of life is scary but I've been rewarded for the effort. I don't wallow in sadness, I rarely deal with depression anymore. But the post-traumatic stress of what I went I went through years ago sticks with me and I can't always control the anxiety when it chooses to show up. I just have to try to breathe through it (which is sometimes all I can do when the panic gets so bad that even breathing is such a struggle) and if it's a really bad day, go home and try again tomorrow.

The important thing is that we don't give up. Every day that we're still here is a testament to that effort. That we try not to be too hard ourselves, that we try to love ourselves as we are. That even when we're soaking wet from the rainfall, we're looking for the sun.  

Because after the rain, it might be damp and soggy for a long time, but at least the we've weathered the storm. Never, ever, ever give up. You are not alone. :)

Little Lights

We have this new kid on our team at work. He's quickly become my partner in coffee and crime, my collaborator on work stuff, the person I can talk to when I'm having a stressful day. He's great. 

Y'all know I love to work from home on Fridays, but he was going to the office today and I had a meeting. I signed up to volunteer for a Committee that's organizing our events for mental health week, and I'd already ignored this girl's emails for a week and a half and then cancelled my meeting with her twice. I felt obligated to show up. 

Me: You know what's going to happen. They're going to ask me to tell my story. 

Him: Just go to the meeting Margaux. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. 

So I went. She gave me an overview of the whole project. All the events they have planned. The need for Marketing/Comms support. This is usually where I come in when I sign up for some volunteer activity at KPMG. I get put on the communications tasks, and I have absolutely no issue with that. I love it, after all. 

Their big event, out of all of them that week, is this panel, which apparently over 100 people show up to listen to. Last year they had four people who told their stories about dealing with mental health issues. One Partner talked about his battle with depression and everyone cried. 

Hmmm. Depression is depressing. Who would have thought. 

The co-chair of the Committee talked about all the help they needed, I asked her what was she looking for from me? She said they were looking for a "Champion" of the campaign this year. She thought I'd be good for that. Project Management work, time consuming but I can do that, no problem. Then she said they only wanted two panelists on that event this year, so they can have time for a Q&A. Did I want to tell my story?

Get up in front of over 100 of my colleagues and talk about how I got to the point where I thought it would be a good idea to kill myself. 

My first reaction was basically, are you fucking kidding me? What I said out loud was, can I have the weekend to think about it?

I went home, at this point in the afternoon we were both working from home and I IM'd my little buddy. 

Me: I was right. 

Him: Think about it this way. If you think your story and your experiences can genuinely help those that are in the same situation, consider doing it. If not, that's ok too!

So I thought about it. And he was right. That's the reason I started this blog, that's the reason I told my story to a big old magazine so they could publish it. I do genuinely want to help other people who might feel as desperate as I did. We've all got all these little lights in us, but life, people, bad luck can put them out, one by one, until we feel so dark there's no way back to the sun. 

I felt that way for years, that I would never feel happy, ever again. And it's terrible to feel that way. We can "Pollyanna" it up as much as we can, and we should try to feel positive, but mental health issues: depression, anxiety, etc. are sometimes not by-products of us feeling sorry for ourselves. Sometimes as much as we try, for a period of time, there's no real way out. Yoga, positive thinking and reinforcement, therapy, they help. But it can take a lot of time for the "medication" to kick in. In the meantime, it's just us, battling our dark passenger. 

Me: Ok. I'm going to do it. 

Him: Awesome decision. :)

Me: You'd better start working on a kick-ass pep talk to give me when I'm having a panic attack right before this happens. 

Mental Health is a serious issue. It affects people just as much as a physical disability, or someone who is dying of cancer. Those things are obvious to everyone on the outside, this disease, not so much. People everywhere are suffering from it, and having come out the other side, back into the light, as embarrassing as it is, I want to tell my story so those of you who are dying on the inside right now, know the light comes back. I won't lie, it's slow. Little lights, one at a time. But you can get there. I did. In the meantime, go to yoga.