Fly a Little Higher: The Story of Zach Sobiech

Zach's story will never cease to inspire me. Every time I listen to his music, watch his videos, or read the book that his mom wrote about him posthumously, I cry and am filled with inspiration for how to live my own life more fully. I recently watched a new movie called "Clouds" which is about Zach's life and is based on the book his mother wrote, titled "Fly a Little Higher".

Zach Sobiech wanted to be remembered as the kid who went down fighting osteosarcoma cancer and died at age 18... but didn't really lose. His inspiration still lives today not because he's a kid who died of cancer but because of the way in which he chose to live his final days. I struggle with mental illness on a daily basis and if I am asked what advice I would give to someone who shares my struggles, I would take inspiration from Zach. He said the following in his "My Last Days" video on YouTube: "I just want everyone to know: you don't have to wait to find out you're dying to start living."

I first learned of Zach Sobiech when my sister told me that a musician had died the day before. A musician myself, I was immediately curious and looked up whatever I could find about Zach. As a devout Catholic myself who has a surprising amount of experience with grief for my age, I figured out when his funeral was, figured out the time difference from Minnesota to Virginia, and was praying for them during his funeral. When his mom's book, Fly a Little Higher, came out, they somehow found the blog that I was writing at the time (a different one from this one) and contacted me, asking if they could send me a free copy of the book in exchange for a review on my blog. Of course, I said yes, received the book in the mail, read it and cried. I don't cry easily, but this time the tears blinded my eyes and I couldn't even see the page let alone read the words. I had never met the family and had never been to Minnesota, but this story was stunningly beautiful.

Now it's 2020, seven years following Zach's death. The world is facing an unprecedented pandemic. I was among the many who lost their jobs though my experience was, perhaps, far less stressful with the knowledge of a guaranteed job back. While unemployed, I had a daily babysitting job with a family from my school's community - two adorable identical twin boys. Though I know them very well now, for almost a month, the only way I could tell them apart was by the freckle on the left cheek of one. Many, many times while driving to the twins' home, I listened to Clouds on Spotify - Zach's hit song. I've never met the family, though I do have that small connection with them, and I continually find encouragement in Zach's message to fly a little higher.

And so, while hanging out with a friend recently, we were browsing Disney + looking for something to watch and I noticed a movie called "Clouds". I asked my friend about it, crossing my fingers that it would be about Zach and -- sure enough -- it was! We got our tissues ready and sat back, eager to be inspired. Come to find out that this movie was released only 8 days prior and that, following its release, Zach's hit song "Clouds" hit the iTunes song chart at the #1 spot a second time, 7 years after his death!

I've overcome major depression and I'm learning, every day, to live well with clinical anxiety. Depression feels like death and anxiety makes you think that you're going to die. Encouraged by Zach's words, I just want everyone to know that you don't have to wait to feel like you're dying to start living. You are strong and brave and you can do this, living just one day at a time, one moment at a time, and accepting hardships as a pathway to peace. Jesus came that you might have life and have it abundantly; I believe that, walking together, we can all live this reality.

Zach inspires me to reach for the clouds, to fly a little higher, to see the good in every individual and rejoice in the gift of another day of life. I encourage you to listen to the song, watch his My Last Days and My Last Days (A Year Later) videos on YouTube, read the book and watch the movie. Let this weird, joyful goof of a guy make you smile, laugh and cry. Let him teach you a little more about an abundant life. Let him surprise you with joy. 

I'm no longer able to allow comments on individual posts but you are welcome to email me your thoughts. I look forward to hearing from you! Keep your heart up!

SARAHFIDDL3R@GMAIL.COM

Song Parody: Cleansing Gel

The story behind the songwriting process...

First, there was a friend who asked me, mid-conversation, if I was worried about coronavirus. My answer then remains honest now: "No".

Then there was a post on Facebook remembering a song parody that had been written during the swine flu pandemic.

Finally, there was a Catholic speaker who I love who shared about one of her favorite ways for finding joy in the midst of self-quarantine: Christmas music!

Thus the idea for writing a song called Cleansing Gel to the tune of Silver Bells was born in my mind.

Two weeks later, I finally had a quiet morning to myself (yesterday). I was sitting on the couch, sipping my morning tea and trying to find the motivation to open the book that I had on my lap when the lyrics just came. Still sitting on the couch, I started sorta singing, "Panic buying, people crying... there's no toilet paper... in the air there's a feeling.... of terror". At which point I stood up, smiling with excitement, and went to get paper and a pen while saying aloud, "Oh my gosh, this is getting real!". I finished the first verse and chorus, recorded and sent it to my family, then hopped in the shower hoping that that would help the next verse to come along.

Meanwhile, my family absolutely loved it. My dad said it could go viral (I was more excited that he liked it that much) and my Mom asked if they could share it. I explained that what I had shared with them was only the rough draft. Another verse was coming and it would likely be all done and ready to share later that day.

I was almost done drying my hair when the lyrics started flowing out of me for the second verse. "Jobs are closing, germs are spreading." I sat with that for a few minutes trying to think of what the next line would be. I looked at the lyrics for Silver Bells to learn from how it was written and find inspiration for Cleansing Gel. I wrote the line which mentions China while second-guessing myself that that was even where it all began. Then I had to bring the song back to the US and wrote that next line. Finally, I had to bring it all back to the main theme and smooth out that transition.

The song was done. I just wanted that final affirmation from my family before sharing it so I went ahead and recorded and uploaded it to YouTube since that was the simplest way to share the song as a whole with my family. They loved it and so I put it on Facebook.

Then I took a walk around my neighborhood to try, mostly in vain, to get Silver Bells out of my head. I was already excited about doing the process again and writing another song parody for these times but had no idea what topic or what melody. I have since answered both of those questions and am hoping that it won't take me another two weeks to create it!

On a somewhat related note, I'm beginning a 54 day rosary novena today for the end of the pandemic. Today begins 27 days of petition, followed by 27 days of thanksgiving to conclude on May 14 which is the feast day of St. Corona who is the patroness of plagues and epidemics. Everyone is more than welcome to join in prayer!

3 things I'm thankful for today: the ability to bring joy to others, rosary novenas, the joy of new life.

Meet My New Pet

I'd been considering getting a pet for weeks - almost since the new year - to help me manage anxiety. My first thought had been a betta fish but, really, they're only pretty. I wasn't excited about the prospect at all. Then I woke up one morning a couple of weeks ago, thought about the dwarf hamsters that my sister used to have and realized that I could get one for myself! A quick Google search later and I realized that this idea was very affordable and so I kept reading to refresh my memory on their care. I was getting increasingly excited!

Though it has been years, I've had dwarf hamsters before. During Elementary school, I had two albino dwarf hamsters: Blizzard and Sugar (one at a time, of course). I loved playing with them - as I did with all of our animals - and, looking back, I realized that they truly are very low maintenance.

So now, at this point in my life, I jumped at the possibility of getting another one. I knew it would be good for me and helpful for the anxiety and slight tendencies towards depression to have a little critter around for me to care for. After doing my research, I visited a small pet store during my work break to see about a cage. That pet store proved to be so small that choices were limited and animals were just as scarce. Those animals that were around, I very much enjoyed watching; I finally remembered how much joy animals give me and was a little sad to realize how long it's been since I really took the time to delight in them. Watching them now, I felt right at home.

I finished my work day and made a mental plan to go to a pet store near my home the following day (incidentally, on leap year). My Meyers-Briggs personality type is ANFP (Ambivert. It really should be official); knowing that I had a full morning of training for work on Saturday, I left the idea very much up in the air for myself as to whether or not I'd actually get one that weekend. As it happened, after I got home, it took me less than 10 minutes to turn around and get back in the car to go to the pet store hoping to bring home a dwarf hamster.

And so it came to be that, to celebrate Leap Year, I brought home an energetic goofball who I named Chryssie (short for Chrysanthemum).

The pet store where I got Chryssie was much bigger than the first one so I was even more in my happy place watching all the rodents sleeping soundly or scampering playfully about. The birds were very excited but I think that was largely because someone was buying one of them and an employee was trying to catch one with a net to bring it out. The parrots were so funny. I saw three of them; they already have names while they are in the store and the label on Sky's cage said that she will pose for you. Well, the silly thing did see me admiring her and, while she pretended to be eating with her back toward me, what she was really doing was turning her head -- apparently not actually interested in the little bit of food in her mouth -- around to look at me. Quite the charmer.

Chryssie was sound asleep when I first saw her (I had to look at the label to get a better idea of her coloring) so I found an employee to help me collect the things needed for her care and then woke her up from her peaceful slumber. 

Once home and after I had assembled the cage, I put her into her new home and watched her run and climb about as fast as Dash from The Incredibles for probably 10 minutes straight before she showed any signs of acclimation. It was fascinating to watch. Once she was settled, I went back to the pet store because I had somehow managed to walk out of there without her food. This hamster mama is off to a great start!

Hamsters are nocturnal but they do adapt to their owner's schedule. For Chryssie, that means she'll likely remain largely nocturnal since I work full-time. I'll handle her 1-2 times every day and she'll get some time in her round about exercise ball in the early mornings and usually in the evenings after work. I'm currently the most excited about letting her have a good dust bath. 

3 things I'm thankful for today: chicken noodle soup, The Gifts of Imperfection (Dr. Brené Brown), a "just because" phone call from my cousin over the weekend. 

My Indoor Garden || Learning How to Care for Real Plants

A hyacinth soaking up all the sunlight it can in the kitchen

February 9

We've been enjoying unseasonably warm weather here in Northern VA this Winter which, frankly, has been wonderful for my seasonal depression. Still, I've had absolutely no interest in testing those waters and so I've continued enlisting the help of coping skills both old and new. In light of the new, this year I've decided to try my hand at caring for indoor plants.

For those who know me in person, this is potentially laughable based on my history of killing succulents. My primary motivation to try this new experience was my alternative: buying myself fresh flowers about twice a month for the colder months. This route of caring for indoor plants is definitely more cost-effective and, frankly, I've found it to be more therapeutic as well.

When I was in the hospital following my mental breakdown 3 years ago, I learned that getting your hands into dirt is a great coping skill and surprisingly therapeutic. After being discharged, I attended a NAMI conference with my dad and, there, learned how to repot a plant. I couldn't tell you what the plant looked like and I didn't repot another one for three more years but I do remember the feel and the smell of the dirt. And for the moment that it took to complete the task at hand, nothing else in the world mattered to me. The otherwise constant physical pain of the severe anxiety left me and I can't even express how much I enjoyed the brief relief. The calm that I experienced was a moment of strength for me that gave me hope to keep fighting for another day.

Back to the new this year. I was motivated by my desire to decorate my little apartment. In mid-December, I bought myself a small pot of mini roses which, sadly but predictably, died within a couple of weeks. Then, right after that, one of my best friends gave me another small pot of flowers in celebration of the anniversary of my breakdown. I was so excited about them and sincerely hoped that they would last longer than the roses. They found their new home on a windowsill in my home and I soon fell into a rhythm of caring for them, watering them about once a week. Since they hadn't died yet, I purchased several mini plants from Trader Joes and added them to the windowsill. Again, I quickly fell into a rhythm of caring for them and soon learned how to read them accurately (one day, I noticed one of them wilting heavily. I immediately watered it and was delighted when I saw the next day that it looked good as new!).

The trial period for my plants ended (I unofficially gave myself about 3 weeks) and I bought a small indoor watering can. I was very surprised by how much that added to the therapeutic experience as a whole: I had no idea how fun it would be to walk around my apartment watering my plants!

Sweet philodendron looking all happy and perky in the living area

I currently have something like 15 indoor plants - most of which are those teeny tiny miniature $2 plants from Trader Joes - and they are all doing so well! Most of them reside on my bedroom windowsill and that's where I plan to repot them in a windowsill planter to give them a better chance at a longer life. Additionally, my mom gave me two pots of philodendrons. These are such a welcome sight for me as they were around the house during my childhood and I very much enjoy that they require little-to-no sunlight and so I can put them anywhere in a room.

The trial period

My sweet, simple indoor garden

February 24

I've repotted my plants, with my mom's help, in the last couple of weeks. Repotting them was immense fun. I had never picked the plants up from their tiny pots before those moments and I could finally see that they had maybe an inch of dirt to their name and that a couple of them wanted so badly to stretch their roots but just didn't have the space to. I'm so happy that they now do!

Along the way, my Mom showed me the mug that I had repotted a plant in at the NAMI conference with my dad. That's when I realized that I remembered the moment, the smell and the feel of the dirt and, of course, the temporary relief from the pain but literally nothing else. I still have no idea what the plant looked like but I thought I had replanted it in a pot and not a coffee mug! I took the mug back and repotted a succulent in it (which is quite possibly exactly what I did at the conference) and that gave me the idea to get several more nature-themed mugs (thank you, thrift stores!) to pot more succulents in and decorate the downstairs windowsill with.

Now that I'm gaining confidence in my ability to care for plants, I'm hoping to try caring for herbs. I've heard that they're harder - easy to underwater and overwater - but I'd be so interested in giving it a try, especially knowing how therapeutic the experience is.

I'd love to read your thoughts and tips about indoor plants and herbs. Please feel free to share in the comments!

3 Ways to Save Money Without Hardly Trying

I won't spell out my monthly income for you but, suffice it to say, I'm a preschool teacher. I'm also fairly visual (in addition to auditory and tactile) so I enjoy having pretty spaces. As it's now Winter, this is especially important to me in consideration of my SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder). Well, a month or two ago, I was feeling overwhelmed by the amount I'd been spending on moving expenses. I talked myself through it, spoke with my spiritual director, and also had a meeting with myself to form a game plan for future spending. I outlined for myself a better way of keeping track of my finances and who, at the end of the day, I want to financially support. 

I'm now feeling so much better, which is absolutely wonderful, and I thought that I would write this post to share why that is. Here are the 3 things that made January amazing for me:

1. Thrift Stores

I grew up on Thrift store clothing. Then college and the first few years of life as a young professional happened and I forgot all about it. I've just recently got back into it; happily, in my area, there are many and I now frequent them during my work breaks whether I buy anything or not. 

Recently, I spent a Sunday afternoon at three different thrift stores and, yes, I did purchase things at each location but the most expensive (by a longshot) thing I bought was a $25 oil painting. I also recently added two pretty sweaters to my wardrobe for a grand total of $10.20. One I was looking for, the other I just loved and my inability to resist proved to work in my favor: it was my first time at that particular thrift store and I was informed that I had hit the "lucky number" - I'd had no idea that there was a $10 minimum for use of a card and I didn't have any cash on me! 

It does take some effort and energy and it can be hit or miss, but I've always enjoyed my thrift store finds so much more than my other clothing and this, for me, is probably because money stresses me out so much and wearing thrift store clothing just reminds me, happily, that I spent $5 or a total of $30 for 6 articles of clothing. 

2. Buy Nothing

Have you heard of these groups on Facebook? They're amazing. The point is to buy nothing; post pictures of the things you are intending to give away and someone will likely comment to claim within a day or two. One must ask permission to PM/DM (private message/direct message) you for your address for pick up and it's your choice whether you want to leave the object or article out on your front porch (no introductions necessary) or actually meet the person upon their arrival (I've done it both ways). 

The process also works in reverse, of course. People post their own pictures and those interested comment away on them. Hopefully, you will obtain lots of great things -- for free! 

I have given away things that I hadn't been able to just donate to a thrift store for sentimental reasons and I've obtained several pretty articles of clothing, a pretty chip/salsa pottery dish, and replaced my dishes -- all for free! It's just the best and I've also enjoyed getting to know our neighborhood's surrounding streets a bit better in the process.

If interested, just search for "Buy Nothing [insert your city or town]" and you'll probably have to answer a few administrative questions. They're closed groups, which make them safer for membership and community building. I learned of them through my mom and my sister, which was a really great referral and, furthermore, I really believe that this is another aspect of one of my favorite things to say and observe: "This is social media done right!". 

3. Be a Member of a Grocery Store

I most consistently shop at the same two locations of Safeway, so I became a member and punch in my phone number every time at checkout. It's fantastic to get discounts for most everything I buy!

Then, 98% of the time, I fill my car with gasoline at the Safeway station across the parking lot from the store (conveniently, right down the street from work in the same direction as my commute). I punch in my phone number there, too, and consistently get up to $0.40 off per gallon. 

The other thing that I would like to mention about Thrifting and Buy Nothing-ing, is that groceries are now the most expensive items on my "To Buy" list. When I realized that recently, it added a happy skip to my step. 

Feel free to leave questions or comments on this post below. I'll respond to them in a timely fashion especially because these are 3 things that I'm currently very excited about and have served to alleviate a lot of anxiety and some depression for me in recent weeks.

How I Managed to Continue Feeling Great While Being Overwhelmed

We all know the feeling: there are a million things on the checklist and they all have to get done. Like, yesterday.

A few months ago I had a checklist of three significant things that needed to be done by the end of the month. Only one of them was critical within the timeframe; the others were simply important to me. Per usual, I stressed myself out at the thought of them. So I took a really deep breath, then said aloud “Sarah, which of these is THE most important?”

The car. If that state inspection didn’t get done then I’d have a ticket before too long and one of the stressing factors about getting the car taken care of was my dislike of spending any amount of money. All right, take another deep breath, find an available morning in the first two weeks of the month, schedule the appointment for bright and early (get it done sooner in more ways than one!) and get it done. CHECK! It was all taken care of by the 10th of the month and I no longer had to worry about the possibility of a ticket.

Next, I asked myself which of my next two things sparked the most joy in me since neither of them was time sensitive. That one was harder than I thought! Here was my dilemma: I’m a musician and I finally - after 10 years - had an opportunity to get back into violin lessons, this time with a new teacher and a different style of playing. The violin is the love of my life so this seemed an obvious runner up to the car in light of “What sparks the most joy.” But actually, my choice was a haircut.

My hair was about mid-back in length and I don’t enjoy getting haircuts. It’s not for fear of a bad haircut; it’s actually due to my breaakdown happening at the end of a haircut. I wanted to get back into music lessons but I wanted to really enjoy them, even if they proved to be hard. My hair was long and heavy enough that headaches were happening with increasing frequency even when I wasn’t doing anything. So I called the hair salon while still on the high of checking the car off my to-do list and scheduled that appointment. While still on the high of accomplishing another hard thing, I emailed my soon-to-be music instructor and we confirmed a lesson time slot without yet committing to a starting week.

I realize that the lessons learned and successes of these accomplishments are not a one and done deal. I’ll continue to have anxiety and the car will probably stress me out year after year because that’s what it does. Haircuts might sometimes be enjoyable and other times not so much. This year, I’m proud of myself for personalizing the word “adulting” so well and accomplishing these hurdles without having any panic attacks. Breathing through it, prioritizing well, and appropriate self care really do go a long way towards living an abundant life!

Praying Yourself to Sleep

Disclaimer: this post is not about the rosary.

I sometimes experience nights when falling asleep is the most stressful thing I've done all day. I'm literally lying there in bed trying to relax when the racing heartbeat comes and my mind starts telling me that I've forgotten how to fall asleep and then I get more anxious because I'm worried about getting enough sleep and hitting snooze in the morning because I didn't sleep well, but then being on time to work... and all the things.

Recently, I had the worst time trying to fall asleep which was surprising to me considering how tired I had been that day. I was feeling increasingly stressed so I got up, took my meds, got back in bed and began praying one of my favorite go-to prayers: "Come, Jesus, come!" (Catechism of the Catholic Church 2666).

I then did small exercises to help my body relax (tensing every muscle from feet to head for a few seconds, then relaxing). As I relaxed a bit, I let my mind drift to entertaining thoughts about Jesus. Specifically, I thought about the end of John's Gospel when Jesus makes breakfast for the Apostles on the beach. And for what was probably the first time in my life, I wondered how long Jesus had been there on the beach waiting for them.

Did he just show up, snap his fingers and everything was ready or did he get there early and prepare the same way any of us would have?

I entertained the latter thought. I put myself there in the scene with Jesus. And it was so relaxing and fulfilling, you know, hanging out with Jesus in the early morning on the beach, helping him get breakfast ready for the others. I could almost feel the wind against my face and blowing through my hair. Through squinty eyes in the wind, I looked at Jesus. He had already been gazing at me, his face so calm and his eyes so full of love. What great joy there is in two people who love each other deeply offering themselves in service of other people...

The next thing I knew, my alarm was going off the following morning and it was time to get ready for work.

I love the little bit I've learned about Ignatian prayer but I don't know that I'd ever experienced a moment of prayer that was as real as this was. It reminded me -- again -- of just how well Jesus knows my heart and how much he loves me. We could have been hiking or on a mountaintop, on a boat, out for a walk, or in any one of the parables or other bible stories. But we were on the beach in the early morning working together to prepare a meal for our closest friends. These are all things that are so dear to my heart -- and I can't even begin to comprehend how dear I am to His!

My Word of the Year for 2020

It was Thanksgiving and the dear friend sitting opposite to me at the table asked me about New Years resolutions. Do I make them and, if so, are they successful? Is it even worth thinking of them? I'm not sure whether or not my answer surprised her; I oftentimes find that my answer does. I proceeded to tell her about my tradition of choosing a word of the year as a kind of checkpoint for the year. My word for 2019 was "Brave". I was inspired by St Joan of Arc ("I am not afraid... I was born to do this!" and "In God's Name, let us go on bravely!") and C.S. Lewis ("Courage, dear heart."), and was it ever perfect! I certainly felt anxious and afraid but I never lost my determination:

Brave.

In January, I continued going to Church even though I had a panic attack during almost every Mass I attended.

In February, I suffered a panic attack on Valentine's Day but, despite my great reluctance, did life anyway the very next day.

In March I began attending a 12 Step Christian support group. The first time I went, I was so scared that I had to take my emergency meds to calm down... now it's been 9 months!

In April, knowing my newly diagnosed allergy to mold could possibly cause a panic attack at my parent's Church, I attended the Easter Triduum solo for the first time at a neighboring Church.

In May, I learned that several coworkers were leaving and I knew that my job title would change which was both terrifying and exciting.

In June, I began hiking most every weekend with a new small group of friends and we so enjoyed getting to know each other better.

In July, the Summer's heat and humidity triggered my anxiety almost every day but I still made myself do life and hydrated as much as possible.

In August, I celebrated my birthday with friends, old and new, at a party hosted by a good friend. My goal was to have fun and meet people and she invited people I'd never met before. By the night's end, everyone expressed how glad they were that they'd come.

In September, I moved out of my parents home and it really didn't take me too long to settle into my new home nestled in the woods by a lake with some of our longtime family friends. Less than a week after I moved, my letter was published on The Catholic Woman blog and I published a follow-up post on my blog about my experience of being suicidal. The latter is now the second most-read post on this little blog with more than 200 views; I don't expect to ever find out how many people read my letter but traffic to my social media accounts increased after its publication and I continue to receive messages from readers who are sharing their hearts with me and asking questions of my story regarding their own stories.

In October, I went on my very first airplane and enjoyed a trip to Colorado with my family.

In November, I joined a cast with my violin and rehearsed for a holiday show.

In December, the show opened, was immense fun and I loved and enjoyed every moment of it. It was especially wonderful to meet and greet people after the show and realize how many of them were people I've met since doing my last show. I love that I spent so much time this year branching out and building a great network of friends both new and old!
I'm not letting go of or burying "Brave"; if anything, I think I've started a new trend for myself! And my new word for 2020:

Rhythm.

I'm inspired by a song lyric from Carrie Underwood (which I think can be beautifully spiritualized), "Dancing to the rhythm of [His] heartbeat", and a quote from Ann Voskamp, "The fastest way to joy is slow".

I told my friend sitting opposite of me at the table that the first thing I'm doing is easing myself off most of my social media accounts. I've already closed my Instagram account and hope to be off Facebook in the next 6 months. I encourage those who wish to continue following my blog to subscribe via email on the righthand side underneath my picture.
Getting off social media is honestly a long time in the coming and, though I'm sad to not see updates from many of the incredible people I've been following for years, I'm excited for the year ahead and to be more and more invested in real life.

Lord, find me grateful!

Dec. 28, 2016: The Day My Life Began to Change for the Better

One year ago today, I published my first post on this blog as a small celebration of the second anniversary of my mental breakdown.

My breakdown happened while I was visiting my parents and my sister had just finished giving me a haircut. After I fainted twice consecutively, I was transported to the ER where I was eventually sent home with the paper that tells you to follow up with your PCP within 48 hours of an ER visit.

I dreaded my first anniversary. My therapist tried hard to help me think of it in a new light but a "spiritual awakening" just didn't sit well with me. I told her that I was so afraid of having a panic attack and fainting again. At last, the only thing that helped even just a little bit was recognizing the significant amount of therapy I'd been through in the meantime and realizing that I was in much better health now then I was before.

Last year, as my second anniversary approached, I was still not excited about it but neither did I dread it. I quietly prepared to start my blog on the anniversary and, the day before, I stopped on my way home from work and bought a piece of tiramisu that I would eat at work the following day to celebrate my anniversary.

And that worked. Just that small, delicious celebration that I treated myself to completely changed my perspective on my anniversary and made it a day that I realized truly is one to celebrate. Though the immediate aftereffects of the day was the hardest experience of my life thus far, I now can see that December 28, 2016 is the day that my life began to change for the better.

Today is 3 years since my mental breakdown - something that seemed impossible to me during the intensity of my suicidal ideations. I've now been at my current job for as long as I was at my "dream job" (read my letter for reference) and I can't believe how much happier I am and how happy I am - but I sure am loving it! I did a holiday show again this year. Last year I was stressed out as I learned the process of creating a show (but I still had an overall incredible time!); this year, I was relaxed as I trusted the process while giving my all at work and at the theater. Today, I'm enjoying brunch and a movie with several friends -- most of whom I didn't even know at the time of my breakdown!

I am alive, happy and embracing opportunities I never thought I could and I truly believe that I am better for them. Lord, find me grateful!

Grieving a Loved One Who has Completed Suicide

After my letter was published, I received many messages from readers, several with some really hard questions. With the holidays approaching, I thought it might be a good time to share one of them in particular, one that was about grieving a loved one who had completed suicide.

I want to be very clear here and say first that I've never known someone personally who has completed suicide. I know people who have stopped themselves from attempting, people who have died from accidental overdoses, people who have been killed in line of duty and people who have died naturally. I do know what it's like to be suicidal and so my answer to this question comes from my experiences of coping with my own mental illness as well as my experiences with grief.

This dear reader shared with me that the hardest part for her about grieving a loved one who has completed suicide is struggling with all of the "What if I had known?" questions.

I want you to know, dear reader, that gentleness and kindness are both fruits of the Holy Spirit (Galatians chapter 5). Perhaps you're in turmoil right now and that's completely understandable; I really encourage you to pray and ask the Holy Spirit for an increase of gentleness and kindness with yourself in your own life.

There's truly no need to be hard on yourself over the "What if" and "If I had only known" questions - being hard on yourself is not a fruit of the Holy Spirit. You did the best you could with the information that you had. Now you have a beautiful opportunity to grow closer to Jesus and Mary who both knew the anguish of grief so very, very deeply.

Allow them into your suffering. It oftentimes helps me to ponder a story of Jesus from the Bible and to stand there in the story, with Mary by my side (regardless of whether or not Scripture says she was actually there). Let Mary share her heart with you as you gaze upon Jesus. Let her wrap her arms around you at the foot of the Cross. She knows the heart of her Son better than anyone and she knows your heart, too.

Know that you are so loved by a God who is bigger than mental illness, bigger than the questions and fears, and who has already conquered death.

My First Airplane Experience was...

… terrific!

The lodge where we stayed. Makes me dream of the Sound of Music!

We'd been planning this trip to Colorado to visit my sister for almost 2 years and I'm still not sure that I can actually believe that it really happened. Two years ago, I was still in the very earliest stages of recovery after my mental breakdown and the prospect of getting on an airplane (something I'd never done before) seemed literally impossible to me. In fact, I was pretty sure that my family -- if this really happened -- would simply go without me. And I was more or less ok with that at the time.

You may remember this post about how Eleanor Roosevelt helped form my approach to anxiety in which I used my real-life fear of airplanes as an analogy for finding freedom; I linked to it in my most recent post in which I announced that one of my top goals for this blog (namely, to write a post about the first time I went flying) was about to come to fruition. For context, I've pretty much always had a fear of flying and absolutely no experience with it. Forms of transportation such as driving and the DC metro stress me out regularly so I figured that something grand and adventurous like airports and airplanes would be the death of me.

Then my breakdown happened and life seemed literally impossible (you probably know that I just wanted to end it all). But then, as I sat in that "dentist" chair receiving TMS therapy (Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation) for mental illness, my eyes almost constantly wandered to that poster on the door with that quote from Eleanor Roosevelt -- "You must do the thing you think you cannot do" -- and I could not shake the image of me in an airplane (sans destination. The important part was airports and airplanes).

In short, my perceived inability to do airports (which was about 90% of my fear) was a huge obstacle in my life.

My younger sister flew out to Colorado several days before the rest of us and she kindly sent me play-by-play videos of as much as she could of her airport experience. That was incredibly helpful. But the pearl of wisdom from her that helped me the most was the text message that told me that airports are simpler than the metro. I can't even express the amount of anxiety that left me when I read that. And I found it to be entirely true.

Sunrise behind us flying West; hiking with our nephew to build a snowman; view from the lodge

As far as 9/11 was concerned, I really didn't struggle with a fear of death or catastrophe. If the thought crossed my mind, I simply reminded myself that there have been many, many more successful and safe flights and people hop on airplanes to just about anywhere all the time. I also have a favorite quote from the movie Sully that I was looking forward to discovering for myself. Early in the movie, Sully and his co-pilot are in the cockpit. Just as they're getting to cruising height and before the bird strike, Sully sighs, taking in the beauty of the day and the sight of the Hudson River, saying "Life is so much simpler up here," and his co-pilot contentedly agrees. I've never flown an airplane before and don't ever expect to, but I think I now know the feeling they experience.

The only part that I didn't like much  (I'd call it the most frustrating part of the whole experience -- more so than the kid sitting behind me on the first flight who would occasionally kick the back of my seat) was looking down at the ground and having absolutely no idea what State we were flying over.

We hiked a mountain, built a snowman, then hiked back

My favorite part? I'm no extrovert but I love people and learning about their creative sides. One of the things that got me through the airport experiences was observing all the systems in action (which also helped me to stay in the moment and not worry about the next step). From checking bags and not seeing them again until baggage claim (someone had to think of that idea and create a system) to why on earth anyone would want a job that I cannot understand desiring (TSA people... God bless you!), it just fascinated me to see the fruits of others' creative geniuses.

I love seeing and meeting new people because I'm so curious about their life story up to the point where our paths cross and, of course, beyond.

At our terminal, watching the plane leave before our own arrived to take us back to Virginia

I was especially grateful to the pilots and flight attendants who were so incredibly friendly (my 2 year old nephew was crying for his dinner as we boarded our flight home and one of the attendants said that she'd be crying, too, if someone were delaying her dinner) and I wondered about their lives, too. I'm curious about where they woke up in the morning, where they'll sleep and how long they've been away from their loved ones. Not one of them gave me the impression that they'd rather have a different job or that they were having a bad day (I understand that that is professional but humor me, please). It was incredible to be in the care of such kind people... and I think I can now understand the desire to be a flight attendant (but, no, I will not be switching jobs).

Overall, an experience I'm very glad to have had. In fact, the writing of this post now seems somewhat trivial. Nonetheless, I'm very proud of myself for doing something I thought I couldn't do and I look forward to my life becoming even more unrecognizable in the future.

Lord, find me grateful!

I'm About to Go on My First Airplane

Rare though it might be for someone in my age group and in this day and age to write this, I've never been in an airplane before. We drove everywhere when I was a child; I have 5 siblings and we really only traveled to visit grandparents or to go to our favorite family retreat center in Cape May, NJ. Most of my siblings went on their first airplane during college but I never took advantage of any World Youth Day event or Alternative Spring Break trip or other opportunity to fly. In less than two weeks, though, I'll be flying out to Colorado with my family to visit one of my sisters for a little family reunion of sorts. This is the "before" post. (I shared in this post that one of my goals with this blog is to write a post about the first time I go flying.)

Truth be told, I've always been a bit scared of airports and flying and, though it's not the only reason why, 9/11 sure didn't help. I've been anxious about me getting lost in airports or my luggage getting lost -- not to mention navigating the unfamiliar of wherever my destination is! Adventure doesn't thrill me... (though that leads me to wonder about my every day life because I don't absorb directions very quickly and the DMV area is crazy). Regardless, I'm a bit surprised that I'm actually excited about this new adventure and introduction into the world of flying.

Now, to be fair, I'll be traveling with my family -- including all three of my nephews (ages 5 1/2, 2 1/2, 1) -- so I expect to be plenty distracted. I'm looking forward to seeing what planet Earth looks like from way up high and I'd also like you, dear reader, to know that I literally have no idea how to pack for this trip (Colorado in October? I hear it's possible to experience all four seasons in one day!). But largely thanks to the tremendous amount of therapy I've already had, I find myself generally excited because I'm more myself now than I have been in years.

I still have anxiety, don't get me wrong, but -- in the last few years -- moving out of denial and into acceptance and gaining lots of tools through therapy of ways to live more abundantly is lifechanging.

One example of this growth is that I've moved 5 or 6 times in the last 8 years and each time -- within a month -- I've gotten into a car accident to varying degrees of damage. Well, I moved again only a few weeks ago and I was nervous about another car accident. As a firm believer in the power of prayer, I asked several friends to pray for me for this intention. That, coupled with the tools that I've gained through therapy, and I've learned in the last few weeks that I truly am stronger, braver and smarter than I know (thank you, Winnie-the-Pooh... or is that Christopher Robin?). There have been no car accidents and I'm no longer even worried about the possibility! The new confidence that this has given me is invaluable and I'm so grateful to have experienced it before getting on that plane. (I'd also like to note that the last car accident that I was in -- a mild fender bender -- happened before most of the therapy that I've experienced.)

So while I have very little knowledge of what to expect (I've been in an airport twice in my recollection), I'm not afraid of the possibility of heightened anxiety or an attack. Either could happen but I'm confident in my ability to utilize appropriate coping skills. I expect to be exhausted. Traveling with tired nephews might be exciting, too, and perhaps the weather will be a bit different there than in my still fairly mild Virginia-in-the-Fall weather but I am excited to show myself again that I am strong and brave and that my life is worth living and worth living abundantly.

The "after" (or recap) post will hopefully be here in November. Meanwhile, I'm usually active on Instagram (@sarahloutherese) should you be interested in pictures of beautiful Colorado.

A blissful October to you, dear friends!

15 Steps I Took When I Knew I Was Suicidal

Now that my letter has been published, you know more of my story and the journey that I’ve been on for most of my life. But there's only so much that can be included in a letter that’s meant to be no more than 1500 words, so I want to follow it up with this post to share what would have been much too long to share in the letter: the steps I took while being suicidal.

Although these are numbered, they are not necessarily numbered chronologically. I was in an emergency situation, had no guide book, and — out of fear — wouldn’t even tell my mom at first and didn’t know what to do (other than act on the ideations but, even then, that still, small voice inside me reminded me of my desire for Heaven and I knew that suicide was no guarantee that I would get there). Terrified and alone, the first thing I did was...

1. Told My Priest and my Doctor

This part of my story begins with a text message from my brother. Knowing I was struggling with depression and anxiety, he asked how I had been doing that day. “Other than thoughts of cutting my wrists, I’m great” was my reply (a dry sense of humor runs in the family). He immediately asked permission to call me and we spoke on the phone for the next two hours. I told him truthfully that I was not suicidal and, by the time we hung up, I was feeling pretty good.

But the very next morning, I awoke to a suicidal ideation which included a plan. Thankfully, I couldn’t act on that particular plan because I don’t own the instrument that I saw in the plan. It was, nonetheless, terrifying. My depression and anxiety triggered due to the ideation, I met with my priest after Mass that morning and told him of my ideation. He immediately prayed with and for me, which was helpful and I did relax a bit, but additional help and support was clearly necessary.

That night, my doctor called me and I told her that I was suicidal. She asked me to put my mom on the phone and told my mom that I would be spending the night at home and that, if my mom wouldn’t take me to the ER the next morning, she would.

2. Went to the ER

My Mom took me to the ER. I still hadn’t told her. I couldn’t. I was so scared. I told the nurse in triage. Then I saw my first psychiatrist who prescribed my first medication and also gave me the choice between hospitalization or Partial Hospitalization Program (PHP). I didn’t want hospitalization. By now my Mom knew and I had a surge of confidence in our ability to communicate so, if I had to do one or the other, it would be PHP. I was put on the waiting list. The waiting list was about a week long (which is forever for someone who was in my situation).

3. Told EVERYONE in My Family and Made Sure There was Always Someone With Me

Mom and I left the ER and went out for ice cream. I felt more confident since it seemed like we had an action plan. We now both knew that I was suicidal and I determined, hard as it would be, to call everyone in my immediate family (I have 5 siblings so this was a big commitment) and tell them that I was suicidal. I knew that if I had any chance whatsoever of survival, we all had to know. I needed that support.

As I began to communicate more openly with my family, gifts began to show up on our doorstep with my name on them. It was puzzling because I hadn't ordered anything. There was a fuzzy panda bear blanket from my brother and sister-in-law and a necklace with Philippians 4:13 on it from my sister. Though my love language is not gift giving or receiving, these little things from my further-away siblings went a long way in helping me to feel their love, support and encouragement.

Meanwhile, they also made sure that I was always with someone with whom I felt safe. The chances of attempting suicide are far less when with company so my local siblings, family members, and closest friends all jumped on board. I appreciated this very much, especially because my love language is quality time and so spending hours with people who I felt safe with was so good for me.

The occasion was my brother's college graduation. Remember that mental illness is a very hidden suffering: you would never know that I was depressed, anxious and suicidal; in fact, I hadn't eaten anything that day and was considering starvation. Please don't be afraid to ask your friends how they're doing. I mean, how they're *really* doing.

4. Switched Therapists

Within just a couple of days, I was admitted into a Partial Hospitalization Program but not the one whose waiting list I had been on. (My daily and nightly panic attacks were hospital level and very, very scary so my Mom and my Aunt did a lot of research while I was sleeping off some medication one afternoon and, when I woke up, they had my next step figured out.) At PHP, I met daily with a Psychiatrist and, due to schedules on their side, worked with two different therapists. My psychiatrist — who was absolutely wonderful to work with — recommended his practice for after my discharge not because I could continue working with him but because his colleagues have an excellent reputation. Longer story very short, I left my first therapist (who I mentioned in my letter. The reason is that we were not the right fit for each other) and switched to a group therapy at his practice. From there I stayed at that practice but eventually switched to individual therapy again to do CBT. That was an incredible experience and the story is in my letter.

5. Left My Job

The first 4 steps were chronologically what happened. Here, I’m transitioning out of the story and into the facts. Prior to my breakdown (please read my letter if you have not yet already), I could not admit that I was miserable. I wanted so much to love my job but I just didn’t. Since I was suicidal, my psychiatrist at PHP encouraged me to get a new job. Apparently, that’s the advice he gives to all patients who are suicidal and that makes sense. I did leave my job and accepted unemployment. I will forever be immensely grateful to my parents for welcoming me back home and caring for me.

6. Texted the Suicide Hotline Number

Once I learned of it a few months in, I began texting the National Suicide Hotline Number. I texted that number so many times that they recorded my name/number and would greet me by name when I texted (that was only creepy the first time). Was it helpful? Kinda... although I already knew the coping skills and breathing exercises that they recommended from my time in PHP. For me, it really was just a reason for me to not think (or not think entirely alone) about my ideations and severe anxiety.

7. Had a Physical List of People to Contact When I Needed To and was as Transparent as Possible

There’s nothing worse that being alone when you’re triggered. The isolation means that the lies swimming in your mind are suddenly on steroids, the battle feels too big and overwhelming and giving up seems the easiest way. At PHP, I created a physical list of people to contact in these moments and I would text all of them and engage with anyone who responded. In those moments, it’s literally ANYTHING you can do that keeps you from acting on the ideations. 

Further, I told my family and closest friends what I saw in my ideations. Subsequently, my parents hid the kitchen knives. To this day, I have no idea where they kept them for those several months. They only brought them out for cooking, then quickly cleaned them and put them right back in their hiding place.

8. Got a Temporary (“transition”) Job

I was unemployed and dreading employment, having lost trust in employers. I’m a preschool teacher and, as it turns out, the Preschool Director at our Church has a great relationship with our family. She offered me a very part time, temporary job and I reluctantly accepted it. It was a great choice and, within only two weeks of that job ending, I landed my current job where I am, to this day, very happy.

9. Using a Weighted Blanket

Simultaneously to getting a temporary job, we learned about weighted blankets and did our research about them. They are helpful for people who suffer from nightmares, anxiety, depression, sleeping disorders, etc. My mom bought me one and that coupled with a medication change and a new job seemed to work its magic on me and I finally began to be consistently better and better.

10. Met with My Priest on an As-Needed Basis

My priest has known me for half my life and, if my Mom texted him to ask for his soonest availability because I needed to talk to him, he was ready. I am painfully aware of how great a gift this is but I do encourage you to talk to a priest after Mass about your struggles if any of this resonates with you.

11. Prioritized Daily Mass, Listened, Prayed and Trusted

I prioritized daily Mass and that was the majority of my prayer life outside of my ultimate intention to offer up all of my suffering. There was no consolation at Mass except for the head-knowledge of Jesus’ True Presence in the Eucharist. At this point, it was more conviction than anything else. I was in intense physical pain, the anxiety was so great, and the only consolation the Eucharist gave me was the strength to keep fighting for another day. I received the Sacrament of Anointing several times throughout these 10 months of suffering and it’s really the graces of the Sacraments that kept me going.

People around me were praying for me and I leaned on their prayers. It was hard to trust God, hard to trust their prayers and hopes for me but, simultaneously, I literally had nothing better to do. I didn’t know when or if my suffering would end. They told me it would but I didn’t know if I could believe them. The only person who I came close to believing told me, with tears streaming down her face, that she had heard God whisper in her heart, “Soon, but not yet.” Within three months, I entered remission.

12. Wrote Letters

Several friends asked what they could do to help. There wasn’t much, honestly, because my group of trusted people was very small. I would always ask for their prayers and I would sometimes ask if they enjoyed letter writing. To my delight, I was able to exchange letters with several people for a few months. It’s also the little joys that kept me going.

13. Avoided Alcohol

Countless times while in PHP, I was asked when my last drink was. I’d self-medicated on alcohol in the past but, after my mental breakdown, I began to take my recovery seriously. I knew that if I wanted any chance of survival, alcohol wouldn’t be part of my journey. So my last drink before my breakdown was Christmas day and it would be months before I had another one. There was so much trial and error with different medications that I was grateful that alcohol had no influence on any of it.

14. Never Attempted Anything

As real as the ideations seemed, as intense as the pain was, as lonely as I felt, and as much as I wanted out (believing myself to be a burden to the world), I never attempted anything.  It seemed like I had every plan in the book and sometimes circumstances would reveal new plans. It was terrifying. And it’s only by the grace of God that any of this is true.

This is the baby who I so desperately wanted to meet, one of the forefront reasons in my mind for not acting on the ideations in those moments. Holding him for the first time was the moment that I chose life once and for all because I wanted to get to know him.

He is all joy and I've never once regretted that choice. Also, that necklace is the one from my sister with Philippians 4:13 on it.

15. Celebrated the Milestones

The therapist with whom I worked the longest (a year) and I celebrated together every milestone along my path to recovery. The first time that I talked myself out of a panic attack, we celebrated the following week with ice cream. It truly doesn’t take much to celebrate and it goes a long way for the client's recovery and for the relationship between therapist and client which, I believe, is what's more important: a therapist can give you the tools that you need but a good relationship with your therapist is really what makes all the difference.

My Family, Aug 2019

It's a hard journey but it's a worth-it journey. Life is worth living. Keep your heart up!

____________________________________________________________________________

Thank you so much for your positive response to my letter, for sharing it on your own social media accounts and to everyone who took the time to message me. Suicide is the second leading cause of death for people in my age group (which is absolutely gut-wrenching and heartbreaking); I wrote my letter (and this post!) to be shared in hopes of helping others catch a glimpse of hope in the midst of their struggles. It's why I have this blog, why I've chosen to share my story and it's given greater meaning to all the suffering that I endured.

So thank you for your responses, your encouragement, and your prayers for me and for everyone who has read and will read my letter. I truly believe that prayer makes a difference!