You Deserve to Eat

It’s difficult when you have medical conditions and mental ones.

Carbohydrates produce happy chemicals like dopamine. That’s why things like mac and cheese, candy, and mashed potatoes are considered comfort foods. They’re filled with carbs and carbs make the brain happy. This is especially true when you have ADHD like I do, and your brain doesn’t produce the happy chemicals by itself.

But I also have PCOS, Polycystic ovarian syndrome for those of you who are curious, and my doctors have drilled into me that carbs are bad for my condition and protein is best. Carbs are bad, and protein is good. That’s what I was always told.

Sometimes I don’t have the desire or energy to make a proper meal and worry about nutritional facts. But a bowl of cereal is both easy and appealing.

Then I get stuck in the mindset that I shouldn’t eat this. It’s all carbs and I should be eating protein or at least a piece of fruit or something. And if I’m not careful I will get stuck in that mindset and just not eat. Not just for the rest of the day but for several days sometimes.

I have to stop and tell myself that fed is best. It doesn’t matter if it’s a steak or cereal. You need to eat. You deserve to eat. You love yourself and need to nourish your beautiful body.

Eat. You are loved and deserve to be taken care of.

Maybe when you feel better you can worry about nutritional facts and what you ‘should’ and ‘shouldn’t’ eat. Right now you’re not doing well. You’re just trying to survive. Surviving means putting food in your body so you don’t start feeling worse.

If for no other reason than you are worthy of love and appreciation and being taken care of.

Nourish yourself.

I Have Monsters In My Mind

Sometimes I feel like things are going well and then I get blindsided by an intrusive thought that leaves me reeling for days.

Sometimes I’m paralyzed by the idea that I’ll never amount to anything and that I’m wasting my time trying like this. I spiral wondering about all the opportunities that I squandered or misused.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m happy with the person I became, or if I’m just not happy with the person I was. I know I grew a lot as a person, especially over the past five or so years. But it seems like I can’t have a positive revelation without the monsters that live in my mind going ballistic as they spew hate at me.

I want to be happy with the person that I am and the person I will become. But I don’t want to discount the person I was before either. I had to be her to become who I am now and who I will continue to be.

Sometimes it’s easier. Sometimes the monsters are asleep or preoccupied with other things so I’m able to live an okay life and do the things I want to without them knawing at my self-worth and pride. Other times, the only reason I’m able to force myself out of bed through their hate, power, and oppression is my pets relying on me.

I have cages to clean and dogs to feed and exercise. They don’t know about the monsters, they just love me and bring me joy. I don’t think they know fully how much they fight them back every day for me.

Sometimes I open up to others about the monsters too. Or at least I try to. Sometimes they don’t get it, or at least don’t get the full scope of it. They think they’re little gremlins that thrash around and are more of a nuisance to me than anything. Most people don’t understand that they are the monsters under the bed. So impossibly large there is no way they can fit there but by the power of dark magic, they can. They are the shadow hand that reaches in the dark when you know there is something there but know there is no way anyone could be there. They are the creature outside your window staring at you waiting for their opportunity to creep inside and consume you. They are the feeling you are being watched or followed but every time you turn around there is nothing there. They are the ever-creeping despair that settles in your bones at every bad thing that you hear happen in the world.

My monsters are deceiving too. Sometimes they come to me wearing the masks of sadness. Or uncertainty. Sometimes, when they feel particularly malicious, they come to me with pretty faces and soft hands and whisper sweet things to me, like how I’m lovely and sweet, smart and kind. And just as I’m beginning to believe them I’m dragged down into the depths of despair where I’m towered over by all of them and made to feel even smaller than I ever had.

It’s not easy to make me feel small. I stand at 5’10”, or 175 cm. I am not a small woman, and I’ve learned to lean into my height and feel good in it. Feeling small isn’t something I’m used to or even let happen without a fight.

Sometimes I wonder if I can ever defeat the monsters or if they’ll always be there. Stronger and bigger than me, always undefeated.

Maybe one day I will be able to take them on, either by myself or with lots of help. I don’t know. Maybe instead of fighting them, I think more often, I can invite them in and have a cup of tea with them. Ask them why they haunt me and never let me rest. See if there is any peace we can come to. I’ve come to realize recently that just because something is uncomfortable doesn’t make it bad.

And while my monsters certainly make me uncomfortable, I also feel like they’ve been around for so long I can’t imagine my life without them. I don’t think they need to leave, not yet anyway. I may still have things to learn from them. But I hope that we can maybe work together.

I might be tired of fighting my monsters, but I’m not tired of fighting.

Letter To A 14-Year Old Me

Dear Torri,

Let me start off by saying that you are beautiful, even if you don’t believe yourself when you say it so you just don’t. You’re also smarter than you think, and you don’t have anything to prove to anyone. The only person you should concern yourself with is yourself.

I know it’s hard to believe all that because you’ve been bullied from such a young age that you’ve started to believe that there’s something wrong with you inherently. Early puberty hasn’t helped with that at all. But you are not ugly, you are not too tall, you are not fat, and you have a medical condition that can be helped with medication. And no, those little voices in your head are not telling you the truth. You have anxiety, depression, and ADHD. All of these are your brain working against you. I know you know you have depression, you have since you were far too young. You don’t have to keep going through it alone.

Mom, dad, and Shiianne want to help, but they can’t if you don’t say anything about what you’re going through. They can’t read minds. Even when mom and dad come home exhausted, they are still your parents and they want to know what is going on in your life. You attempting to shield them or not burden them with your issues is just causing more harm to everyone in your life. It’s hard to let people in, I get it. It’s so much easier for everyone involved to just bottle everything up and pretend it’s fine. But it’ll be five years from now that the bottle explodes and everything comes pouring out. Empty it from time to time, no one will hate you for it.

Don’t be afraid to jump into things you want to head first. You’re only a kid once and this is the perfect time to experiment and try any and everything. Also, don’t feel like you need to read only old classics like The Godfather. There are so many YA books out right now that you will love and will probably resonate more with you than they did with me right now. So please stop being a hipster and trying to pretend you’re better than everyone because you’ve read more classics than anyone else in your class. It’s annoying.

Clothes from the trendy stores in the mall do not fit you. It is not your fault, and it doesn’t matter how cute those shirts are. They don’t make clothes for more plus-sized bodies, or tall women for that matter. You’ll be much more comfortable and happy if you just accept that right now and go to Old Navy, or thrift stores and get clothes from there because you can actually find things that will fit you.

You are not the only person in the world who likes anime. A lot of your classmates do too. Make more than 2 friends because they aren’t that great, to begin with. You are worth more than what they will put you through.

While on that subject, don’t force yourself to like things that are usually seen as romantic. You’re Aromantic, you will figure this out about ten years later but to understand right now that there is nothing wrong with you or being uncomfortable by some of these things.

You are beautiful. You are smart. You are creative. You are more than you could ever think you are worth. You are enough.

You are more than enough. If nothing else, remember that. You are more than enough. So treat yourself according to your worth.

I’ll see you the next time you look in the mirror. Please try to smile at me.

I love you,

Torri

My Mental Health Journey So Far

This has been a post I’ve been wanting to write for a while now, but, as I’m sure you can imagine, this hasn’t been the easiest thing to put into words.

For the vast majority of my life, I have suffered from anxiety and depression. I was aware of my depression for years before I knew that anxiety was a thing. When I found out what anxiety was, it made so many things in my life make sense. At that moment I wasn’t alone anymore. That this wasn’t an issue that just I was dealing with. That there was a word for what I was feeling.

I was eighteen when I first started on anti-anxiety medication. And I had this horribly toxic mindset of eventually weaning myself off of those meds to train my brain into being okay. It would be a couple of years later that I realized what a ridiculous notion that is. My view on mental health medication is the same as someone taking an inhaler or heart medication. It’s necessary. The brain is an organ like everything, it just has a much more complex job than the heart. But that medication didn’t work for me. It’s like I was experiencing input lag. All my reactions were slowed down, and even though my mood had improved, I was not feeling good because of it. It wasn’t helping that the quantity I was taking was in a really nasty tasting syrup form. So I stopped taking it a few months after I had started.

There was so much time of feeling alone and not knowing what I wanted out of life. I realized that I probably also had a lot of trauma from years of bullying and self-imposed restrictions from the shitty hand my family had been dealt.

At the end of 2019, I was finally at a point where I could admit to myself and my parents that I was not okay. I didn’t have any more coping mechanisms that I could use to try to keep myself functioning. It was clear to me that I needed help but I didn’t know how to ask for it. Until one night I broke down crying after telling my mom that I was trying to make myself feel okay. I was finally able to say that I wanted help, that I was afraid of what might have happened if I don’t. She told me to start looking into counselling or therapy and that we would figure it out. And that’s when I realized the strong support circle that I did have.

The only issue I had about going to therapy was the potential to be committed to a psychiatric ward against my will. I have no issues against people who willingly want to be committed for their own reasons, but I had heard horror stories of people in those wards, especially against their will. My concerns were quickly eased as I looked up Canadian laws about commitment and how it’s not as simple as I thought it would be.

It wasn’t long before I found a counsellor. I actually didn’t find him, my mom did/ It was a wonderful series of events. He had come into my mom’s restaurant and they started talking and he just casually dropped that he was a counsellor. He had agreed to take me on if I wanted to talk to him. And after a cursory conversation to see if it would be a good match and if I felt comfortable, we continued on. And he has been the most wonderful person I have ever talked to. He’s given me strength and tools, and a person to rant to without feeling bad for it. And so, so much more. Tony, if you’re reading this, I cannot thank you enough.

It was about May of 2020 when my mental health took the hardest turn. The pandemic was in full swing, there was so much uncertainty. The restaurant had been closed for about 2 months at that time. I was beginning to find myself in that mindset of what’s the point? Why am I even here? Is it worth even trying anymore? And with that, I knew I had to do something about it because I was worth more than a life half lived. My counsellor was able to help me get on anti-depressants that actually helped and didn’t make me feel like shit. I was eventually given an additional mood stabilizer, which has helped immensely.

Since starting therapy and medication, that actually worked, I was happier consistently, got more work done, and had an overall better look at life and myself. Through talks with him, I was encouraged to look into things myself. And that’s when I came to believe that I had ADHD. I was diagnosed with it in late 2021. As of writing this, March 2022, I have yet to be put on medication for that. But I remain hopeful and optimistic.

Life has been a lot easier in some ways because I have a word to put to what I’m feeling. I’m not just feeling this way for no reason. Maybe some people don’t need a reason for things or just believe it is what is, but I like knowing the why for everything.

And that brings us to where I am now. I am far better off than where I was at 18. I like to think I have a better outlook on life and better coping mechanisms than before. I still struggle, I’m not going to pretend for a moment that I don’t. But I wouldn’t take a single day without my medication and new outlook. It may not be perfect, but I didn’t ask for perfect. I just wanted to stop feeling like shit all the time. And thus far I’ve succeeded.

When I First Started Writing.

I know I touched upon the fact that I tried to write a novel when I was like seven, and I’m pretty sure I’ve touched upon the fact I started writing fanfiction when I was a tween.

Today, I want to touch on why I fell in love with writing, and how it made me feel when I made it a ‘habit’.

So, I first started writing fanfiction when I was, I want to say, about twelve years old. I started this because I was watching a lot of anime and I wanted more from the stories and characters. I read a lot of other peoples works, and while I enjoyed them they fell a little short for me. I wanted more complex original characters who weren’t as delicate as the other females in the original works(given the fact I watched a lot of battle shonen, this was a tall order).

I ended up thinking to myself, why not write what you want to read?

So I did. I created my own Quizilla account and went to town.

I loved the fact that I got some positive reactions and likes. It made me feel really good and want to write more. When I got a few requests to make fics for specific people I was over the moon.

I had pretty aggressive, undiagnosed depression at the time. I really didn’t have a good outlet for expressing this, or any emotion really. I felt lost and alone. And at multiple times I felt like it would be better if I just ended it.

When I started writing fanfiction and getting the positive reactions of my writing, and I wrote a couple long running pieces(i.e. releasing one chapter at a time eventually equating to something akin to a novel) I wanted to keep going. If for no other reason than to not let down the people who read my stories and wanted to know how it ends.

When Quizilla shut down, I moved over to my own blog that my sister helped me set up. I started writing more, posting more often, collaborating with a friend of mine to work on a story together.

I felt free when I was writing. Like, what I had to say mattered. Like my scattered thoughts could finally be put in order and make sense, not just to other people, but to me.

I found myself much less stressed out when I was writing. And I loved the fact that I could schedule posts to make it look like I had my life together.

I stopped writing for a while after high school as I was trying to figure out what I was going to do with my life. I felt lost to be perfectly honest. I did my best to keep up with my blog, but a lot of it fell through.

Once I finally got myself together and took the time to write I felt much better. Like all the stress that I had built up had gone through my fingers and into the words. That’s probably a clique to say at this point, but it’s accurate.

Writing for me can be rather difficult at times when I don’t feel in the right headspace, but even if I’m able to get out a couple lines I generally feel better than I would have without writing anything.

Sometimes this applies to blog posts. Other times these leave me more drained than anything else. This one is leaving me more invigorated than drained, which is wonderful.

That’s about all I have for you today. Is there something you do that makes you feel free when the world is trying to drag you down? I would love to know if you would like to leave a comment.

I hope you’re having a great day, and I will see you next time.

-T.R. Flynn