Unsent Letters: To those with broken hearts

This is part of a series of posts titled "Unsent Letters." I have written letters that I don't intend to send as long as I can remember as a coping mechanism. As a child, I wrote letters to God, to my parents, to my teachers. Sometimes, I don't send them because they are for my eyes only, containing my most deeply held secrets. Sometimes, I don't send them because I'm afraid they might hurt the named recipient. Other times, I don't send them because I'm lazy, or because I don't want to buy postage, or because I forget. This series is an ode to the letters I'll never send. See the full series here.


Dear friends and acquaintances,

I want your hearts to stop breaking. I want your partners and your mothers and your grandparents and your friends to stop abusing you, and to stop otherwise mistreating you. I want you to be happy.

I want you to have the courage to leave scary and unsafe situations.

I want you to have the courage to set boundaries to ensure your happiness, and also the courage to stick to those boundaries.

I also want you to not have to have that courage.

I want you to have the strength to care for your self--your physical health, your mental health, your emotional health.

I want to buy you a bottle of wine or a latte or a cup of tea, and I want to hug you and tell you it will all be okay.

I want to actually be able to believe myself when I say that it will all be okay (because it will, but I struggle with having faith in the future as well).

Some of you I know well, and of you I know very little. But I want you to know that, regardless of how well I know you, I am here. Call me. Text me. Message me.

And I want you to know that my heart breaks for you.

And I want you to know that I pray every day that it will get better for you.

With love,
Lindsie

Anxiety, when it doesn't make sense

There's nothing especially insightful or philosophical about this post, but I wanted to quickly touch on what it's like when anxiety hits and there's no clear reason.

I woke up anxious today, and I can't explain why.

My life is beautiful. I am happy. I am hopeful. But today, I was also anxious.

I'm not sad about a boy (actually, quite the opposite, but that is a post for another day). No one has died. I'm a little homesick--being in Seattle and wishing I was on the east coast--but that's not such a big deal. I'm not having trouble at work. I even had a great weekend with an out-of-town friend.

But today, I was still anxious.

I didn't eat well because I was anxious. I ate frozen sweet potato fries for lunch.

I slept much of the day.

TMI, perhaps: My dermatillomania was especially acute today; I have a sunburn on my scalp that is peeling, causing the urge to pick to soar.

I did this online self-care tutorial, and I forced myself to shower, and to drink a glass of water, and to text a friend, and to make those sweet potato fries, and to call my dog over to snuggle.

(I'm blessed to have that amazing friend to text (and to suggest online self-care tutorials) when I have days like this, by the way. BIG shout out to her, and to my mom and sister, who both talked to me later in the day.)

Someone asked me why I was anxious, and I had no real answer. I said some things about how others around me are experiencing trauma, and that sometimes I'm overly empathetic to the point that the trauma of others triggers feelings in me. I also said something about how my colitis is flaring because I stupidly drank two glasses of wine two nights ago, and how this has made my body feel especially exhausted. I also said something about how holidays are hard.

But, while they may be exacerbating the symptoms, none of those things really feels like the root cause of the anxiety.

And I think I am feeling better now, but I am going to go to bed early tonight, and I hope that I wake up without anxiety tomorrow.

Why I blog

"Why do you post your personal life for all the world to see?"

"Aren't you scared employers are going to see that?"

"Why do you want people in on your business? Are you wanting sympathy?"



I've been getting these questions a lot lately, so here is why I blog: I post my personal life for all the world to see because, like nearly 20% of U.S. adults, I struggle with mental illness. I post my personal life for all the world to see because, like around 10-20% of women of childbearing age, I suffer from endometriosis. I post my personal life for all the world because, like 1.4 million Americans, I deal with inflammatory bowel disease (for me, ulcerative colitis). I blog because I'm young and divorced. And I blog because I'm a survivor of physical, emotional, and sexual abuse.

Society tells us we have to stay quiet about our struggles. If you experience mental or physical illness, you're expected to pretend everything is okay. But staying silent only serves to perpetuate feelings of being trapped and alone. And, based on the numbers, we aren't alone. I refuse to take part in that silencing and isolating norm. I refuse to be silenced.

I blog because I'm privileged and successful, because I go to a great school and get pretty good grades and get awesome internships and am on track for an incredible career. I blog because I have amazing friends and family who support me through all of it. I blog because, as much as my life is sometimes hard, I feel like I've done a pretty alright job of rising above my struggles.

I'm transparent because when I was at my lowest, hearing about the successes of those who had been through similar ordeals gave me hope. I'm transparent because I want to pay it forward. I hope reading about my life can give other people hope.



So, no, I'm not looking for sympathy. I'm looking to build community.

Things I want that I didn't get

Below is a list of things that were missing from at least one of my previous relationships. I think I've decided these are non-negotiable characteristics from here on out.



I want a life partner, not someone who just wants to date for now. I want someone who will discuss decisions with me, who will equally contribute to our household.

I want someone who is understanding of my anxiety and other mental illnesses, who doesn't say I'm "just being dramatic."

I want someone who is patient with my physical illnesses as well, and who understands that sometimes I simply don't feel up to doing much else than laying on the couch and watching TV.

I want someone who can communicate, who can tell me if something is bothering him, and who tells me often that he loves me.

I want to be shown off. I want to meet his friends. I don't want to be hidden. I don't want to feel like an embarrassment.

I want to be a priority. This doesn't mean I don't want him to spend time with family or friends or at work or on hobbies, but it does mean that I want to be chosen over these things from time to time.

I want someone who is faithful physically and emotionally, and with whom I don't have to feel like I'm constantly competing with someone else.

I want someone who gives me flowers. I've never been given flowers.

I want someone who will dance with me, and go to dinner with me, and go to shows with me. I want someone who will pay from time to time (and I'll pay sometimes too).

I want to feel wanted and secure. 

On what would have been four years

Today would have been four years married to the man who was once my best friend, confidant, lover, husband.

Today, I also spent time with the man with whom I've spent the last two years and four months, with whom I honestly thought about spending my life, but who no longer wants a girlfriend (no longer wants me).

Today I went to work at an awesome job at the ACLU of Washington State, and I saw the incredibly difficult lives many live and the incredibly burdensome things many go through, and I thought about how I don't have to worry about being arrested or being homeless or getting three meals a day.

Today I thought about my academic successes (like having two papers accepted to a national conference and earning great grades), and I got to talk to my mom, and I received a text from my dad, and I admired my lovely Seattle apartment, and I snuggled my sweet dog.

But today I also picked my skin so much that my scalp bled and I had to put band aids on my cuticles on two fingers.

Today I cried on the bus home.

Today, I want to feel wanted and secure, but I feel rejected and lost.

Today, I want to go home, but I'm not sure where that is. I feel like I lost my childhood home somewhere between my wedding and my parents' divorce, and I feel like I lost my first adult home when my husband left and my second when my recent boyfriend left.

Today I saw my dad's comment on my ex-husband's Facebook status, where he told my ex he would always think of him as a son, and I thought about how his parents don't think of me as a daughter. I also saw how inspiring my ex's status was--how he reflected on his growth over the past four years--and I wanted to write something equally inspiring, but I knew I couldn't.

Today, my colitis acted up and I took 7 pills to deal with it, probably a result of my anxiety acting up.

Today I think about how objectively awesome and privileged my life is, but how I still feel like it's unnatural and wrong and heavy, how it's not the life I wanted. And I feel guilty for feeling dejected because I know it could be worse.

Today, I'm tired.

This is Mental Illness

My chin trembles. My jaw locks. The tears pour from my eyes. I can't catch my breath. I keep trying to breathe, but my lungs won't fill. I can't get up. I sit on the floor in a corner, holding a blanket or sweatshirt or pillow if I can. My hands shake. I feel dizzy. My body starts to seize up. The world is ending. No one loves me. I'm trapped. I'm trapped in my brain, in my house, in this corner. I should die. I wish I could start my life over. I wish I could take back all the mistakes. It's just a spiral. I can't get better. Life won't get better. It's just the same bullshit over again, but with different masks.

This is me during a panic attack. My face looks stupid, but that's the position it gets stuck in when I have a bad panic attack. I don't know how to fix it when it happens.

Sometimes human interaction helps, but I live alone right now. I could call my mom, my best friend, or my boyfriend, but I honestly don't know if any of them get it. I usually feel like I'm just annoying them.

Sometimes watching PBS Frontline helps. It's something about Will Lyman's voice that I find soothing. But when it's at this point, even Mr. Lyman can't calm me down.

Snuggling my emotional support animal helps. But it's not enough always.

I feel defeated. I'm inherently broken. I feel like I can't be fixed. I feel like it's a spiral. Even though I love my life -- I love my school, my job, my house, my boyfriend -- I can't shake this anxiety that it's all a farce or it'll otherwise soon be gone.

And every time something doesn't go as planned, or as I imagine it, it's a trigger. It's like fate is telling me, "See?! Nothing will ever work out!"

And then I get anxious. And then I feel like I annoy those I love. And then I get more anxious, because I figure if I annoy them enough, they'll leave. And then the spiral continues.