At such an integral turning point in my life, I find myself struggling

majorly.

I find it exceptionally difficult to transition out of “teacher mode” and back into “regular person” mode.
The end of a school year is always challenging for me. This is the second year in a row that I have had to say goodbye to a group of kids that mean a whole lot to me. (These have been the first few years of MANY more “goodbyes” to come.)

When I am in front of a classroom, I feel very similarly to how I feel when I’m on stage. I am fearless. Nothing can touch me. I feel like it is my

purpose.

180+ days of being “Miss”; you get used to that. You get used to someone relying on you, you get used to someone needing you. I compare hearing a child call out my name to putting on a warm sweatshirt.

Additionally, this time of year is another transition, as the dance year has ended, and we are on our own summer vacation. They say “Distance makes the heart grow fonder”, and time away from dance makes me love it even more. 8 months out of 12, I get to live out my ballerina dreams, dancing in a studio I love with people I love. But the 4 months that we have off allow me to ground myself, and think about how much I love dancing.

In this time, I struggle with my identity. I struggle with my purpose. Who am I? What do I want to be? How do I want others to see me? This brings me back to my winter thoughts on who I am and how my identity affects me daily.

So, to conclude my rambling brain dump, today I am going to take a step back. I am going to embrace my struggling and embrace this turning point. And today, I am going to identify as the following: Cat Mom, drinker of tea, Bones™ Binge Watcher, girlfriend of an Airman, teacher of small humans, reader of Harry Potter, living with Anxiety and Depression. And surviving each day.

(Side note: rereading “This is from me to you. This is the truth.”, my own writing, gave me that validation I was looking for. Highly recommend reading your own writing when you are looking for comfort from someone who knows your struggles. After all, who knows you better than you?)

October 1997
Age three. My first dance class.
Picture an exceptionally small little girl with all of the worries in the world.
I didn’t know how to accept my feelings. I didn’t know how to process my emotions.

October 2007
Age thirteen. In therapy for eight years. Still learning how to deal with my anxiety. Still learning how to accept that I was living with a mental illness. Still learning to admit to myself that I was living with a mental illness.

October 2017
Age twenty-three. Celebrating twenty years of dance in the studio I love so much.
I have finally learned how to live with my mental illness. I have finally learned how to accept that my Anxiety and my Depression do not define me.

…

Two weekends ago, I had the honor and privilege of celebrating my 20th year recital- living my life on stage surrounded by the people I love the most. When I look back on my life, there is no possible way for me to do so without thinking about how much dancing has saved me.
Living with a mental illness (or illnesses, in my case) means that I treat every day a little bit differently than someone without a mental illness does. Some days, I have to cancel plans. Some days, I run late. Some days, I’m stuck in bed. Some days, I don’t leave the bathroom. Some days, my emotions get to me, and I cry for no reason.
But, some days are good. Some days, I am excited to take on the day. Some days, I look forward to what the unknown will bring me.

I have worked hard to learn how to live around the type of day I am having. I am still working at it. It’s not an easy process. I am still learning how to live my life despite my crippling anxiety. As I have lived with myself for 24 years, I feel pretty confident knowing how to read my body and my mind, and knowing when I need to fight, and when I need to take flight. Some days, my anxiety gets so bad that I am in flight even before I step out of bed. But other days, other battles are worth the fight.

Dancing is a part of me. I am the best me when I am dancing. My Anxiety and my Depression know they aren’t allowed in the studio. They don’t get to me while I’m dancing. Anxiety has taken so much away from my life- but she will never take dancing from me.

I won’t let her.

2013. 15 years.

You lift me. You make me a better woman.

Thank you for twenty beautiful years of love, dedication, and dance.

As part of my journey toward mental wellness and stability, I have suffered through many of these times- feeling like I am not good enough, not being happy in my own skin, not even wanting to look at myself in the mirror.

I have not been feeling like my best self.

And when I’m not feeling like my best self, it’s really easy to start going down a path of terrible thoughts, spinning out of control. Once those thoughts start spinning, it’s really hard to think anything else.

When you live with a mental illness, not every day is going to be great. Not every day is even going to be good. Some days just suck. It is hard to find the motivation to complete mundane tasks.  It is hard to get out of bed.

It is hard to be me.

It is hard to be you.

I think it’s very difficult to be cognizant of the battles that everyone fights, whether they be on the inside of their heads or on the outside of their heads. Living with a mental illness doesn’t make this battle any easier. In fact, it makes it harder. Not only are you in constant Fight or Flight mode with every decision, every move you make- you are also fighting the battles that occur outside of your brain.

Each day, I wake up and for that brief five seconds, my brain forgets that she has to fight. She is not worried. She is not scared. She is not running. She is at peace.

I wish that I could extend those five seconds just a little bit longer every day. Because if I get to a point where my brain feels like she is safe and she doesn’t have to fight, maybe she will decide she likes herself. Maybe if she decides she likes herself, she’ll like me, too.

For now, I can count on my brain to like me when I am dancing. She loves me when I’m dancing. She is free when I’m dancing.

My quest to find mental health and stability has stretched over a period of years and years and years. I have no secret to happiness. I have not yet discovered all there is to know about my mental health.

And I think that’s the point.  

We are each on our own separate journeys that are made up of unique twists and turns. We all have faults. We all make mistakes. But what’s important is that we

push forward.

We keep going. We soldier on.

It was not an easy feat to come to terms with the fact that I live with a mental illness. It was not easy for me to first accept that my brain functioned in a different way than the “normal” teen. And it was not easy for me to accept that I live with my mental illness- my mental illness does not define me and it does not consume me.

That is a tough pill to swallow. (No pun intended. Okay, maybe a little pun intended.)

It is really, really, REALLY hard to accept who you are every single day of your life. I admire those who can and do. I admire those who have worked so hard to bring light to the fact that we are all different, we are all unique, we are all beautiful.

I have spent many days under the covers, not wanting to be a real person because I couldn’t accept who I was. I couldn’t accept that my mental illness was something I needed to learn to live with. I didn’t want it. I didn’t want to deal with it. I didn’t understand why I couldn’t have just been born “normal” – without this looming black cloud that I will never be able to get rid of.

I have come to a point in my life where I have realized that I am a person living with a mental illness. My Anxiety and my Depression do not define me. I am not Olivia, mentally ill. I am not Olivia, anxious. I am not Olivia, depressed.

I am Olivia, dancer.
I am Olivia, cat mom.
I am Olivia, teacher.
I am Olivia, sister, daughter, granddaughter, girlfriend, cousin, friend.

I am so much more than who I thought I was doomed to be because of my mental illnesses.

Today, I encourage you to look at yourself in the mirror, and be kind to you. You deserve kindness and compassion. And you deserve to know this: no one gets to decide your feelings. They are yours. They are real. They are valid.

You are valid.

You are not your mental illness.

Generalized Anxiety Disorder is isolating. It is lonely.

But it is not quiet.

It is loud. It screams in both of my ears constantly. It never lets me forget it’s there. Not at 9 in the morning, not at 4 in the afternoon, not at 3 in the morning.

My anxiety disorder has left me stranded in bed. It has left me to fend for myself on my hardest days. My anxiety disorder has singled me out in many situations that I couldn’t handle.
I have left many lunches, because I couldn’t finish my meal. I have stopped many rides, because my anxiety went into Fight or Flight mode. I have missed out on concerts, vacations, events, you name it. All because my anxiety told me I would be better off sitting out.

I wish that my brain would give me peace. Just for a few minutes. I wish that it wasn’t such an isolating part of my life.

**

Holidays are hard. They are a constant reminder that I am no longer the child I once was- that my anxieties have intensified. Even in a crowded room, my brain has this incredibly annoying way of separating me from the rest of the crowd.

One of the puzzle pieces that makes up my anxiety disorder is its empathic ability to drain my energy just by being near others. It is not something I enjoy. I don’t find enjoyment in being exhausted by others. When this happens, it is hard for me to communicate effectively. It is hard for me to walk down the street and meet someone’s eyes. It is hard to be around other people whose energies are so powerful. I am not ignoring you. I am not mad at you. I am just too exhausted to form a conversation.

I am writing today so that maybe you might not feel as lonely, knowing someone in the world is experiencing a high-anxiety day. Just like you.
Maybe if conversations about our mental illnesses were accepted and welcomed, this disorder wouldn’t feel so isolating. Maybe if we were taught coping mechanisms from the moment we are born, this disorder wouldn’t feel so isolating. Maybe if we did research to help our loved ones who are struggling, this disorder wouldn’t feel so isolating. Maybe if we learned language to help others who are feeling this way, this disorder wouldn’t feel so isolating. Maybe if we put more energy into loving and respecting those who are different from us, this disorder wouldn’t feel so isolating. Maybe if we worked together to end the stigma, this disorder wouldn’t feel so isolating.

Maybe.

I have been on both sides of a depressive episode, many, many times. In 24 years, the mountains in my life have been really high, and the valleys have been really low. I’d like to think both my mountains and my valleys are part of what make me who I am.

I have always viewed my Mental Illnesses as a disability, as a hindrance, as things that stood in my way of being who I was meant to be.

Until so very recently.

I read in passing somewhere, “viewing my mental illness as a gift”.
My initial thoughts: A gift? Really? Who would want crippling Anxiety for their birthday? Who wants to open Depression on Christmas morning? That thought process is a mistake. No one would want either of those things if they were given the option.
And then I thought about it more and more as each day passed. My Anxiety and my Depression have shaped who I am.

“To feel everything so very deeply.”

My Mental Illnesses have given me empathy. They give me the opportunity and the blessing to be able to feel what others are feeling. They allow me to be open and welcoming and compassionate. For so very long, I had to create a safe space inside my own head, to hide from the Mentally Ill demons that tormented me each day. I can now provide that safe space and comfort to those who need it. I wouldn’t know how to think those positive thoughts and create that safety if it weren’t for my Anxiety and my Depression following me and cackling at me like the hyenas they are.
My Mental Illness is part of who I am. But is not all of who I am.
It is a gift. But is not the best part of me.
It gave me the opportunity to grow as a human being. But it is not my defining characteristic.

2017 broke me into 2,017 pieces.
My faith and my strength were both tested in ways that I could have only imagined.
I moved away from the place I called home for 22 years. I finished Semesters 2 and 3 of Graduate School. I ended an old job and started a new one. My journey continued to unfold.

I struggled with my mental illnesses each and every day.

My 2017 started in a horrific mental state. I was lost and broken from 2016. My days were spent mourning the disintegration of my parents marriage, and with that, the disintegration of our family of four. I could feel the anger welling up in my soul. Anger was pouring out of me in ways that I am not proud to own up to. I was angry at my parents for the decision they made to split. I was angry at my grandparents for not wanting to listen when I wanted to vent about my parents.  I was angry at my sister for being so lax about her decisions.
But mostly, I was angry at myself because I had misplaced guilt. I felt like all of these life-changing events were my fault. Maybe if I’d been a better student, or a better daughter, my parents wouldn’t be so angry with each other all the time. Maybe if I’d been a better sister, Sophia and I wouldn’t have argued so much and in turn, my parents wouldn’t have argued so much.

My parents separation was the best thing that could have happened to our family. In the 12 months that made up 2017, I realized that none of the guilt I had should have existed. There was nothing I could have done. My parents both deserve to be happy. If they couldn’t be happy together, it was only fair that they try to be happy separately.

In the months following our first move, I struggled to be happy with most of the puzzle pieces I am made up of. I was doing the one thing I’d been waiting my whole life to do; teach. But I was coming home every day with a headache, and a heartache. And this consistent voice in my head telling me, “You’re not good enough.” That wasn’t what I signed up for.
And then, in the final days of school, I’d been notified that three of my students listed me as one of their Top 3 Most Influential Teachers. I still can’t think about that without tears welling up in my eyes. I’d spent the entire school year telling myself I wasn’t good enough, when all along, I was changing the lives of these students.

I am good enough. I am a good person. I am a good friend. And I’m a really good teacher.
In 2017, I learned all of that about myself.

2017 broke me, and forced me to rebuild myself into the best version of Olivia this world has ever seen.

In life, there are going to be obstacles that seem impossible to overcome. There will be battles that seem impossible to win. There will be people who seem impossible to impress. None of that is your fault. None of that has to stand in the way of you becoming who you truly are meant to be. Some days, it is hard every day for me to get out of bed and be someone that I am proud of. But it’s not impossible. Because there are days where I am someone that I am proud of. There are a lot of days like that.

May 2018 bring moments in your life that change you for the better. May 2018 bring you mental wellness, good memories, and lots of cats. Go confidently in the path that makes you the happiest. And if you are feeling alone on your journey, don’t forget to call me.

Anxiety has taken many things from me.
She has taken my sanity, my comfort.
She has robbed me of experiences.
Anxiety screams at me constantly. She is louder than the voice inside my head.

There is one thing in the world that settles her.
As soon as I slide my feet into one of three pairs of shoes, she knows her time is up.

She can’t get to me when I am dancing.

I have been many, many things in the last twenty years. I’ve taken on different roles. I’ve played many parts. My weight has fluctuated. My face has changed. I have grown in so many different ways.
Three things in my life have been constant.

Anxiety.
Depression.

And dancing.

My favorite me is who I get to be when I am dancing. I am fearless. I am safe. I am free.
I am any personality I want to be. I am anything I want people to feel when they watch me perform.
I can feel the music move through my soul. My world is whole when my body is in a rhythm.

The hour and a half I get to spend in the studio on Wednesday nights is the only hour and a half of peace I get all week.
Peace of mind.
Peace and quiet.
The speakers could be shaking because of the volume of the music, and it is still the quietest my brain will be all week.

This peace wouldn’t be possible without the support of the greatest group of women in the entire world. Wednesday at 6:30, you are my entire heart. It’s been 8 years, and every week is better than the last. You make me a better dancer, and a better person. You push me to move, create, inspire. Each of you holds a place in my heart, and your love gets me through my darkest hours.

My mental illnesses have constantly let me down, disappointed me, hurt me, and stopped me from living my best life for the last twenty years, but that’s okay. Because at least dance has never given up on me.