*WARNING: Hot Topic Discussed in this Blog.* The Topic - When Suicide Occurs

This is a hot topic and it seems to be fairly prevalent recently in the news and media.  I am not sure if it is because there is an increase in death by suicide or that people are just starting to become more aware of suicide and its effects on people.  And seeing as I have had a fair share of people in my life die by suicide, I am going to talk about it. 

Before we start this conversation, I am going to preface it with this - these are *my* thoughts.  These are *my* feelings.  These are *my* experiences.  That doesn't mean they are right or wrong, common or rare and up for judgment.  Leave your judgment at your fingers and just read with your eyes.  I am also inferring what happened the way that *my* brain has laid information out.  It doesn't mean it is what happened or the events that lead up to the behavior but just the information my brain has and how it has decided to process the information.  There is no right or wrong in this conversation.  So please keep that in mind when you read this, if you continue on reading. 

I am going to talk about the four people I knew who died by suicide and each event.  So lets start. 

Carolyn 

The first person who I knew that died by suicide is Carolyn.  She was a classmate during my time at Red Deer College and she made her presence known.  She was loud and boisterous and good hearted.  She was older than most of us and usually took either the mother hen role or the fun aunt role.  Her personality was massive and infectious. 

Being part of the Legal Assistant program, you never got to venture out and hang out with other programs - they were all pretty inclusive of each other.  It just happened that the Kinesiology program was putting on a hockey game evening - a party bus (ie - alcohol permitted on the bus) would leave Red Deer, head up to Edmonton and catch a game between Edmonton and Calgary.  I can't remember how I got the news or what, but Carla, Carolyn and I had decided to go.  Get out of the Legal Assistant program bubble and meet other people in other programs.  And plus, it was for a hockey game.  Seemed like a pretty good deal. 

The day the game arrived, Carla and I met each other at the College (it was a Saturday) and {I think} Carolyn texted Carla, saying she wouldn't be coming and to have a good time.  I remember wondering if we would still go since Carolyn couldn't but in the end, we decided to go anyways.  Another story short, I was drugged on the bus and landed in the hospital.  Clearly I survived since I am typing this but this is now where my brain tries to put things together. 

As it was college students on the bus, it was a college matter.  But since nobody saw it happen and I couldn't remember what happened, the College took the stance that they couldn't do anything about it. And Carolyn did not like this and wanted to push the issue and I found myself along for the ride and as the exhibit of what happened.  I honestly don't know if she had a personal vendetta against either the College or the Kinesiology program but she was like a dog with a bone and would not let it lie.  She convinced me to write an article in the student paper, bringing the issue to light and set up meetings with so many college officials to discuss the incident and what would happen.  Well, as you could probably gather, nothing happened.  We had the meetings, I wrote the article but no investigation happened, no sanctions were placed on people.  The college basically just swept it up under the rug. 

There is a link in my brain between the college not doing anything and Carolyn's death.  It could have been months after, it could have been days after, I can't put a legit timeline together in my head, but sometime after her mission to bring my event to light failed, she killed herself.  And this I remember so clear - we were sitting in one of our classes that had all the students - probably litigation or something like that.  But we were all sitting in our lecture classroom and I remember seeing Carla sitting in the seat closest to the door and her head was bowed low and I thought it was curious.   I didn't see Carolyn either but that could have been because she was sick or something.  Well, the department head came into the classroom and announced that Carolyn had passed away over the weekend.  And either someone asked or they clarified but it was announced that she died by suicide. 

And this was all of us

Carolyn?  The happy, loud classmate of ours? The one who always wanted to make sure we were doing good and wanted to go out Thursday night after classes?  The one who didn't portray any depressive behaviors or symptoms - that Carolyn?  The one who texted me that same weekend, asking me to meet up for coffee?

And then my brain started analyzing her behaviors the past couple of weeks. When she had texted me that weekend, asking if we could meet up for coffee or drinks, I told her I was unavailable, when in reality I just didn't want to go anywhere that weekend.  If I had said yes and met up with her, would she have alluded to what she was thinking? Would I have been able to give her some hope and dissuade her from making her decision?  And go further back than that, what if I helped push the topic of my drugging more and tried to have the same drive she had to make the College deal with it?  Basically, what could I have done that would have helped her realize there were other options other than suicide? 

And those are questions that I would never be able to answer.  Why? Because I don't know what was going on in Carolyn's mind when she made her decision.  Maybe my going to coffee with her would have made no difference.  Maybe the College starting an investigation into the incident on the bus would have made no difference.  Maybe those were minuscule events compared to what she was actually dealing with.  Who knows.  And I never will.  It was one of those things that we dealt with it as a class and moved on.  But some days my brain goes back to those moments and I do ask myself the same questions, trying to find some sort of logic in her decision. 

Andy

I don't even know how to begin this one.  Andy was my sisters ex-husband who I stayed in contact with after their divorce.  Bottom line, I knew he was depressed.  I knew he tried to kill himself.  I knew he was struggling.  I am just going to get that out right now and why, because I wouldn't have done anything differently. 

We always had conversations about feelings and what we were going through.  I know he was struggling after their divorce and tried to be the logical, rational voice he constantly needed to hear.  Maybe I wasn't helping by being the voice of reason and logic but I also couldn't be a voice of delusion and hope when there was none there.  He was consumed with this idea of getting my sister back and I became a broken record in telling him it would never happen.  This is the problem with constantly analyzing everything - I can be so sure that I did the right thing in telling him it was a pipe dream and he would never get back with my sister but then a tiny voice in my brain will be like "well what if you went along with his dream and let him live it out" and then everything gets twisted and turned and I don't know what thoughts to believe anymore. 

When I went out to Vancouver, I would visit him.  When I broke up with my ex boyfriend, he came to Calgary to spend a night with me when I was struggling.  He came to celebrate my graduating university.  He was there in every support he could be.  And I tried to be there for him in that way as well, but with words or phone calls.  He would call me up in the middle of the night and be "well what if I did this differently - would she want to be with me then?" and I would have to be "there is no fixing this.  It is done.  She has moved on.  You have to as well".  And he would acknowledge it and then we would talk about something else and it would be weeks until the conversation happened again.  And each time I would say "you have to move on".  It became routine.  I became the constant phrase "you have to move on".  And maybe in his head, my saying "you have to move on" meant "there is no point in living".  He kept saying he wanted closure but when we talked about his need for closure, his need would never end. His mind just kept going on a loop of needing to see her again, 'one last time' he kept calling it.  It became so painful for him to try and figure out how to survive. 

And then he told me about the time he tried to kill himself.  He was found in time by his girlfriend at the time but it made me realize just how badly he was clinging on to the past and the fact that his past could never turn into his present. I didn't know what more I could do so I suggested he go talk to somebody who can give him support that he needs as I didn't think I was doing any good.  I also told him that if he ever felt that way again, he could contact me day or night and I would listen to him and give him the support he needed.  But I think it was too late and he had already made up his mind that his present and future was not going to be what he wanted, what he thought would make him happy, and there was no point living.  And I accepted that.

So the night that I was living in DC, out at a classmates house making our shirts for the DC Challenge, my sister skype calls me.  Which she never did.  And the first thought that went through my mind was "Andy died".  I mean, why else would my sister be calling me.  And yep, that was the phone call.  She told me he had killed himself and I wasn't sad or surprised or shocked.  I was ready for that phone call.  I knew that he did not want to live anymore and I did not want to convince him otherwise.  That was his choice.  And I think I told my sister that, or I told her that in my head, that I was ready for that phone call.  But it doesn't make it any easier to deal with and learn to live with.  I still miss him after all these years.  There are days that I want to text him to tell him something good happened during the day or when I am struggling and I know he would understand, I still go to his contact in my phone and then the voice of reason pops up in my head and tells me he is not there anymore.  And yes, it hurts every time I realize he isn't there, but it is an okay hurt as I know he is not suffering anymore and to me, that means more than his ability to answer my text. 

The aftermath of dealing with Andy's death was hard and it wasn't until just recently I figured out why.  I can't blame the dead person, with any of these deaths, I can't bring myself to blame them.  I can't blame Andy for killing himself and I can't get angry at him for doing it.  I can get angry at myself and blame myself for not doing more to help him out.  And unfortunately, a little piece of me blamed my sister.  Maybe if she gave him closure, that would have been enough and he would still be here.  But again, that is me looking for logic.  I am 100% sure that even if she gave him closure (whatever that would have been), he would still want more and still think there was a possibility of getting back together with her, it would never be enough and he would never let it go.  So sister - please know that I do not think you could have done anything to stop him or that you did something to cause him to go down that path.  That was his decision.  That was his choice.   I knew it then and I know it now. 

Cam

Bare with me as I already feel tears starting with thinking of Cam.  And not because of my anger towards him and his decision, but more so about how his decision was portrayed in the family (and this is going to ruffle feathers, so I apologize now).  I am also going to advise this - I am not judging how other people grieve, I am not judging how other people cope, I am not saying what is the right or wrong way for individuals to come to terms with what happened.  I am talking about the way people coped or grieved and how I allowed that to impact me. 

Cam was my cousin in a very huge family.  Growing up, I never really knew him or hung around him as a) lots of cousins, b) he was way older than me and c) he lived in the States.  I really don't remember what caused us to start communicating, but I remember it was when I went back to University.  I may have reached out to him after his divorce, or he reached out to me, I honestly can't remember.  But we made contact and basically stayed in contact from 2007 to his death, and I don't think many people knew that.  Our contact varied from texting or emailing to silence depending on what was going on with our lives.  He told me about his wives and future ex wives and I told him about school and moving and my ex boyfriend.  We were part of each others' lives. 

When I moved to Nebraska, I was not able to head home for Christmas so Cam bought me a ticket to spend Christmas with him and his daughters so I wouldn't be alone.  And the three days I was up there, it was like our age difference or geography distance or anything like that mattered.  We had so many conversations about life and work that we would stay up late and just talk.  Have real, meaningful conversations.  It was amazing.  It was always evident when we had communicated in the past, but it became more evident that weekend that we were the same people - black sheep of the family, always a disappointment and never supported (I could go on and on with evidence of these feelings but that is not what this blog is about).  And after that weekend, we texted daily.  We became support for each other in every aspect of our lives.   

He told me all about his struggles with depression and things he has tried to help it - counselling, medications, changing lifestyle, etc.  And he told me that he was going to die by suicide - that was his plan and he was sticking to it.  he told me that his plan was to do it after he had certain affairs in order, so I kind of knew what to look for and when to prepare myself for it.  And again, I accepted it.  I knew how much he was struggling, I knew how alone he felt.  And yes, I told him that if he ever needed someone to talk him off the ledge or give him some hope, to call me and I would do that.  But I also told him that I understood his decision and supported him in it.  Because I did. 

So when I got the phone call from my mom that he passed away, I was surprised but not surprised.  I was surprised because in all our texts, he didn't tell me he got to the point of  getting his affairs in order but I wasn't surprised since I knew that was his decision all along.  I also knew that one way or another I was going to make it to his funeral since I had a feeling not many other family members would make it.  Plans were made and next thing I know, I was on a road trip down to Wisconsin for his funeral with some family members. 

His funeral was hard.  I have been to many funerals before and none hit me as hard as his did.  I remember before going into the room to view him in his casket, I started crying.  An aunt and I went into the bathroom to attempt to compose myself before seeing him and that is when I realized what the perceptions were of the family of his death.  So many times during that weekend I heard "well he had a mental illness/disorder", like that explained everything, or justified the reason why he died.  And like I said above, maybe that is how they coped or grieved.  But the way my brain perceived that statement was "it doesn't matter that he had no support from family or friends.  It didn't matter that he had tried to get help.  He was never a person that we could have helped, he was a person with a mental illness/disorder."

So I leave the bathroom with my aunt and now beside being sad, I am slightly angry.  And the more we stand there and wait until we can go in and see Cam, the more worked up I get.  By the time we enter the room to pay our respects, I go full blown into ugly crying.  Hanging onto my wonderful cousin who was my rock that whole weekend and body shaking crying.  My brain and emotions were going everywhere.  It was right then that my brain finally realized that I would never be able to talk to him again.  My brain finally realized that I would never have a support like him again.  My brain finally realized that he left me alone in our family.  And my brain realized that if I ever succumb to my depression, the family members are going to say at my funeral "oh, its because she had a mental illness".  And it hurt.  And I let it out.  Which apparently was not the acceptable form of coping or grieving some people thought I should have, as I was told afterwards.  But at that moment, I was not coping very well as I felt the loneliest I have ever felt. 

To learn that my behavior during the funeral was unacceptable and worried some of the family members made me mad.  Especially when they didn't come up to me during the funeral to ask me what was going on.  Oh no, instead they went around me, to my mother, and told her she should be worried about me.  Livid.  I was livid when I became aware of this.  And putting into words my lividness is difficult; I was livid because I could see a cycle in my mind - don't do anything people are uncomfortable with as they won't support you.  And both Cam and I had multiple, similar stories of the family doing this.  And I just wanted to yell at the top of my lungs this cycle, but that would have been unacceptable. 

Also, I heard this many times "well if you knew he was going to kill himself, why didn't you stop him?" And this could be said along with Andy, although I didn't really have that conversation with anybody surrounding Andy's death.  People say suicide is selfish.  I say asking someone to stay alive, suffer till the end of time, be unhappy and feel like nothing will ever get better no matter what you do, that is selfish.  I also wanted to ask the people "you didn't even know he was suffering or didn't attempt to give him support to get through his darkness, so why do you want him to still be alive?"  I think it is hard for people who have never had suicidal thoughts intrude their mind, or if they have never stared at a means of killing themselves, to understand what that suffering feels like and what exactly they are asking of a person when they ask them to stay alive.  

Am I done grieving and coping with Cam's death? No.  Will I ever be? I don't know.  It hurts.  Like with Andy, there are many days that I go to text him and realize no one will answer.  I am happy that he ended his suffering and chose to not live in pain for others anymore but I am mad at him for leaving me to survive in this family and life alone, especially now knowing how they view things like mental illness.  It makes me want to be like Cam and avoid family gatherings and just live my life, but then it makes me worried about how much I can be like Cam and go down a similar path.   

Aly

Aly's death is the most recent.  Aly's death is the one that I have placed the most blame on myself.  And I will always have unanswered questions about Aly's death. 

Aly and I met in University, during our counselling class.  She wasn't a psych major but took it as an elective.  We met, we bonded, we became inseparable.   She was younger than I was by quite a lot but we still were close friends.  She was the most loving person I have ever met, her heart was so big for everyone and that was her eventual downfall. 

We kept in contact when I moved away; we would facetime once a week and always text, even though our schedules were always opposite (she was a night owl, me, not so much).  When I was back in town on holidays, we would always see each other and go to Zoolights in Calgary  I would go see her at work and we would go dancing at Ranchman's or go to karaoke.  She helped me survive living in Calgary more than she realized. 

Then she met Paul.  Who was an asshole and treated her like shit. At first, I kept my views and thoughts to myself about him but eventually I couldn't.  Eventually I had to keep pointing out to her how he treated her and the emotional abuse she took.  But she had the heart she did and loved him through all the suffering.  Until it got too bad. 

They started having more and more troubles.  He would move out, they would fight, he would move back in, they would be in love.  And then it would start again.  And the more I heard the story from her, the more I kept telling her that she had to leave.  That it was an abusive relationship and she deserved more.  And I kick myself now that I think about it as I ask myself "if you were a loving and accepting friend and didn't tell her things like that, would she have killed herself? Would she have felt supported?" But then I tell myself that, like with Andy, I can't allow people I love to be in delusion.  Maybe I was the only person who gave them a dose of reality.  I don't know.  And I could drive myself crazy thinking all the "what if you said this instead of thats". 

And, like Andy and Cam, I knew she had tried to kill herself in the past.  However, I honestly did not think to follow up with it as I just couldn't picture her taking that path.  As before, I can go into so many "what ifs" here - "what if you followed up with her about her plan? what if you followed up with her about how serious she was in wanting to die? what if you dropped what you were doing and went to her to help her out?"  The what-ifs can seriously drive me crazy.  But the thing is, I didn't do any of that.  She had counselling training, she could theraperize herself.  She knew the signs of what to look out for.  I was basically putting everything onto her because I didn't want to think that she could kill herself.  I started putting up a wall between us, intentionally or unintentionally, I do not know.  Her and Paul started going off and on, and she knew where I stood with it all that our conversations became very few and far between.  Then I learnt just how bad of a friend I had became. 

We went out for our annual Christmas dinner and gift exchange and she didn't have a drink, which was super weird.  When I got home, I texted her, asking her what was up and she told me she was pregnant but she didn't know how to tell me since it was Paul's.  Well, I felt like a bag of shit after reading that, and probably rightly so.  I realized that it wasn't about me or my feelings about Paul - it was about her and the support she needed.  And my heart fell at knowing she didn't want to tell me what was going on with her life.  I didn't know what to do.  I told her that I was so sorry for not being there for her and realizing how much of an asshole I have been.  I told her that I would go to doctors appointments with her and help her out as much as she needed.  I told her I would be supportive of her in whatever she chose to do with Paul.  I basically tried to make up the months of being the worst friend to her in a single text, delusionally thinking it would make everything right. 

It didn't. 

When the first trailer of the second Fantastic Beasts movie came out, I texted her, telling her how awesome it looked (she was a HUGE Harry Potter fan).  She had an iphone and it didn't say it was delivered, so I just thought she was sleeping as I texted it first thing in the morning.  By the evening it still wasn't delivered, and I thought she was having phone issues (a common thing with her).  The next morning, I wake up and notice that the text still hasn't been delivered, so then I started getting curious.  I jumped onto Facebook to message  her there and that is when I noticed that her profile had the "in remembrance", so I scroll down and yep - that is how I learnt she killed herself.  By Facebook.  My heart dropped.  I just stared at the screen for minutes, not having it sink in what happened.  Looking at my phone, at the undelivered message to her.  Trying to wrack my brain with what happened, when did it happen, and why the hell she didn't tell me.  That was the worse.  That I put up such a wall between us that she couldn't even tell me she was going to kill herself (my therapist has told me that I can't put it all on me and that I can put some of it on her as she could have easily texted and she chose not to, but again, I can't blame the dead person). 

Aly's death hurts more than the others because I chose not to see it coming, I blame myself for putting up a wall between us so high that she felt like she couldn't share how depressed and low she got and that I didn't get a goodbye and I put all that blame on myself.  And try not to give in to the "what-ifs" because there are just too many of them with Aly.  I will always have Aly with me - in watching any Harry Potter movie or going to movies that we would typically go to see, that I know she would laugh at the same parts as I did, or every time I see a Swiss Chalet.  I have no answers with her death and that is the hardest part for me.  

Conclusion 

The fact that I have known 4 people who have died by suicide is kind of astonishing (I try not to think of myself as the common link between all their actions) but each death by suicide has impacted me differently.  And that is what I wanted to share - your experience with suicide or death is YOURS and nobody can tell you that you are coping or grieving wrong.  And each death has made me realize something about myself and how I can hopefully help someone in the future if they are dealing with depression or suicidal ideation.   With each person I have known who have died by suicide, support has been a huge factor and that means I will always support the people in my life, regardless of it is support to try to find hope or support to end their suffering.  Support is support and it can make a huge difference in one's life.  

Moral of this blog:  F*#k it and support the people in your life, even if it is something you don't understand.  There is a reason why every therapist will ask their patient what kind of support system they have.  It matters.  It means something. 

Also,  

  

When the Zombie Apocalypse hits, Who Will You Be?

I have been watching a lot of The Walking Dead recently (which, if you know me, seems kind of strange and odd since I cannot stand scary movies or people dressed up but for some reason zombie movies or tv shows I am okay with).  Walking Dead is a pretty good show, even though I am not sure if it is *that good* that is has the following and fan base that it does.  However, watching the show has made me question my morals and ethics and my personality and how they would all relate if/when the zombie apocalypse hits us.  

First and foremost, I think that if I (and others) survived the zombie apocalypse, I would make a killing as a therapist because mostly everyone will have PTSD from the event.  I mean, how could you not - you are probably killing people you have known your whole life, have to be aware of what could be around every corner or tree or door or window and basically fend for yourself every waking (and sleeping, but I suggest not sleeping if you could do it) moment of your life.  That has got to take its toll on a person.  

However, after the apocalypse hits, how will that have changed people?  Would they see the world as a place that is going to hell in a handbasket? Will they be grateful of everything they have and the life that they can live?  I really don't know what I would be like.  I would like to think that I would appreciate my life, but how could I not flinch or panic if I am with a boy and he leans in to kiss me and my first instinct is to blow his head off because I think he is trying to eat me?  Lots of counselling will be needed I think.  

During the apocalypse though, what would happen?  I think I would need to get over my fear of everything and not jump or scream when I hear a noise as that for surely would attract the zombies to my location.  My first instinct would be to curl up in the fetal position but that would result in my untimely death.  So if not the fetal position, what would I do/who would I be?  Lets go through the stereotypical characters most often seen in horror movies (I pulled these characters from websites):   

• The Non-Believer - I think if I saw a rotted corpse come walking towards me, I would believe it was a zombie.  The whole 'seeing is believing' mentality would be shot out of water in an instant.  There are such things as zombies when one is trying to bite your face off.  Start believing in a heartbeat or else you will struggle through the apocalypse.  
• The couple having sex - well a) I would need to have a boy and b) it would have to be in a very, very secluded spot that has no chance of zombies encountering us.  Cause how bad would that suck to turn into a zombie and be naked.  They aren't that intelligent to be know how to put clothes on.  

• as a side note to The Walking Dead - how come there aren't any naked zombies?  Are you telling me that whenever people turned/died/whatnot, they were all wearing clothes?  I know for a fact that a lot of people sleep naked.  I find this highly improbable that there are no naked zombies.  
• The Blonde - well I am blond.  So I have that working against me.  But I would think I have more smarts than the stereotypical blond and actually have the brains to not do dumb shit when facing zombies.  Or just doing dumb shit that could have me facing zombies.  
• The Jock - I play volleyball.  But unless I am setting the ball to the zombie or throwing the ball in their face, my sports skills wouldn't come in handy.  I also hate running.  And I am pretty sure my knees and hips would give out and I would be zombie bait.  I would be the person that people want to run with so they know they would get away.  
  
• The Loner - I like to think myself as a loner but I think when it comes to the zombie apocalypse, it would be better to be in a group.  You need someone who has your back cause it would be a pretty desolate place if it is you against a hundred zombies.  Don't be stupid and find people to help you survive.  
• The Redneck - Umm....no.  Not me at all.  But definitely would hunt one down to stick with as this guy would make it through with no problems.  
• The Sexy Bitch - Umm....no.  I wouldn't be running around the world in something sexy.  My first order of business would be to find comfy pants and a tank top or something.  If I am running from zombies, it won't be done in high heels. 
• The girl that never wants to leave the house - YES!!!! That would totally be me.  Why leave if you are safe?  Besides the fact that a) I would run out of food b) I would run out of water c) I would have no electricity d) I would be all alone e) the zombies could break down my door or window to get to me and then I would be a trapped rat.  So let's rethink this idea.  

So who would I be?  A combination of the above.  But I think my psych brain would be going into overdrive getting people to try to relax and calm down and not go on murderous rampages when they feel like there is no end.  

Sometimes, and not just the zombie apocalypse, we are faced with situations where a part of us arises that we never knew we had in us.  It could be something like breaking up with your partner, moving to a different country, standing up for yourself in any situation or just pushing through a barrier that you have in front of you.  We have had practice doing these things - why should a zombie apocalypse be any different?  

Two things to consider when it comes to the zombie apocalypse:  1)  will they really know how to do the thriller dance?  Is it something that is inherently put into zombies, kind of like breathing for humans?  and 2)  I don't know if they will make the greatest shields.  A couple of times in the Walking Dead, logic has failed.  I mean, there are zombies that are basically in pieces, they have holes throughout their body but can still move.  And you can stomp on their heads and crush their skull.  Yet if someone is shooting at you, you can grab a zombie body and use it as a shield.  Really Walking Dead??!! REALLY??!!  This is not believable.  

Moral of this blog:  F*#k It and if the zombie apocalypse arrives, reach in and find that inner strength to survive.  Don't be the blond or the sexy chick.  Unless you be like Alice from Resident Evil. Cause she friggin rocks!!  Find your Inner Alice and persevere.  And do this in all aspects of your life, not just in the zombie apocalypse. 

Danger?! Ha!! I laugh in the face of danger!! Ha ha ha!!!

When it comes to a challenge, a mountain, a hurdle, a roadblock, the Grand Canyon, what do you do?  Do you turn around and run or do you face it head on?  Or, more specifically, how have you evolved to facing challenges?  

I used to be the type of person who would turn around and run from a challenge.  If something popped up in my life that would turn it topsy-turvy or would cause a decision that needed to be made, I wouldn't do it.  I would mentally curl up in the fetal position and wait for the roadblock to become non existant and then go on with my merry life.  

Not the way to live.  Whatsoever.  

I really don't know what the defining moment for me was when I decided that I would face my challenges head on, make my world topsy-turvy if I had to to face my mountains.  I know it happened when I was with my ex-boyfriend.   We were together for 6 years and one day I woke up and said to myself 'I am sick of living like this.  I deserve to be happy'.  And I took the steps to start finding my happiness.  It was the biggest decision of my life and such a Grand Canyon to figure out how to get to the other side, but guess what, I didn't fall down, I didn't die, I didn't curl up in the fetal position.  I made it to the other side.  Happier.  Yeah, a little rough around the edges and raw, but I made it.  I faced that challenge head on and went with it.  

We are faced with challenges every day.  Some more so than others.  They could be little challenges (like what to wear on those days that *nothing* looks good) or having to make a decision at work that could influence the rest of your career.  The only thing that matters is how you hold yourself during that moment.  Are you a lion or a lamb?  Do you take those steps, jump those hurdles, or do you stay meek and mild and then the world run right over you? 

There have been many times in volleyball that I/we had to decide if we were going to be lions or lambs and that can change the entire outcome of the game.  The first time we were at Nationals, we came up against this team that were Amazons.   Huge.  Ginormous.  They must have had 2 feet on us, easily. Watching them warm up, I could feel my panic and anxiety rising, trying to think how I was going to set my hitters so that they wouldn't get blocked all the time.  And when the game started, I told myself that this was not the time to back down, give up, get frustrated; this was the time to step up and show the world (ie the other team) what we were made of.  And we did.  We won.  

Same thing happened last week at volleyball.  We moved up a tier as we were top 2 in the tier we were originally in.  And I was scared of this move as we aren't a consistent enough team to stay at the top; we have no cohesiveness as a team (half the time I have no clue what is happening).  So moving up a tier, in my mind, we were going to get slaughtered.  But guess what - we didn't.  We pulled through.  Even though most of us had our doubts, we stood tall and strong and showed the other team that although we don't do the fancy hits or the complete coverage that we need, we are still a team of lions and won't back down.  

Work has thrown challenges at me, left right and center.  I don't mind the 'sink or swim' training method, but in certain situations.  Our first day at the jail for our internship, our training consisted of PREA (prison rape elimination act) and what to do if we were held hostage (which I would like to point out that a) they have never had a hostage situation before and b) that means that their whole plan of retrieving the hostages has never actually been implemented).  That was our training.  So the first day actually walking into a housing unit to go talk to the individuals, you had to be a lion.  You couldn't show fear or apprehension or panic.  You had to walk in, shoulders back, head high, and look like you had authority and that people had to listen to you (which is totally not me).  But being in the jail was not a place to be a lamb.  It was sink or swim - were the inmates going to walk all over me or was I going to be authoritative and stand my ground with them.  I gained a lot of self confidence working there, and that is one of the most amazing things I got out of working at the jail.  

Challenges make us stronger, wiser.  Would I be the person today if I never broke up with my ex? Absolutely not.  Would I be the person I am today if I never worked in an American jail?  Absolutely not.  Every challenge I have faced (and took head on) has only made me a better, stronger, more complete person.  

Moral of this blog: F*#k It and be a lion, not a lamb, when it comes to challenges.  Run with the giants and don't be a troll.