anxiety · depression · Uncategorized


I guess you would say I’m unmedicated by choice, though I’m really not. You see I’d love to be medicated, especially if it really helped but there are a few reasons I never have been. 

Reason one, I have no insurance and I am a lower-middle class american. Which means going to the doctor unless I’m on my death bed it’s just out of the question. It’s not affordable cash wise or time wise. Like in order to go I have to make sure and get as many hours as possible and not eat for a few weeks. Plus I would have to miss work to go. 

Reason two, for years I refused to admit, even to myself, that there was something that wasn’t working right in my brain. Even though 4 out of the 7 people in my family are diagnosed and medicated (the other two are still really young) I couldn’t do it. I had to be the “normal” one. How I CRAVED to be “normal”. That was before I realized that was just a setting on the washer. 

Because I craved being normal and wouldn’t admit to anyone I had something going on I refused to see a doctor. I refused to talk to anyone who was being paid to listen to my problems. Oh how I wish I could go back and tell young me that it’s ok not to be “normal”. It’s ok to express yourself. Truthfully though I don’t know if I would be able to talk to anyone now. Though, I guess that’s kinda what I’m doing here. I’m talking to someone. Even if it is mostly just myself and no one ever reads these words other than me. I’m talking. I’m getting it out. 

This blog will be my therapist, my doctor, and my medicine. For the time being at least. Maybe one day I’ll finally give in. I’ll finally talk to a real person that’s sitting across from me. 

Keep searching for fireflies.



Searching For Fireflies.

If you were a kid in the south you probably spent many warm summer nights with a jar or some sort of container looking for a twinkle of light. Just a quick flash that signaled a firefly. As a kid I just saw fireflies an as excuse to stay out after dark and run around with neighbor kids. It was just a tradition, nothing of real importance.
As I got older I started having anxiety attacks and falling into these depressions that I couldn’t control and sometimes just wanted to give in to. There were several times in my teen years that I wanted to give in to the thought that people’s lives would be better without me. When I got into those moments I tried my hardest to focus on the things I’d been told growing up. Focus on the bible verses and praying.
See I raised myself in church. I started going at four, by myself on a bus. My family didn’t start going for another four or five years. So church was important to me longer than it was to my family but sometimes it felt like they shoved it in my face and forced me to try to rely on it when I was faltering in my faith. Looking back im glad they did, but that’s a different story for a diffrent post.
Anyways, one night I was having one of my “episodes” and decided to sit on my porch. It was probably late April early May and I’m just sitting on my porch stairs staring at the sky praying for God to give me a sign. To show me any kind of sign that there was some hope for me and for my life. and just as I finished praying and opened my eyes I see it. The first Firefly of the season. It may seem silly but I took that as my sign that even in the dark night of my light there was a Firefly of hope. that there was even just a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. that everything would be ok.
I am glad I took that sign, most days. I am not going to lie sometimes it is hard. I struggle but I always look for that firefly of hope. This is how I make it through, by searching for fireflies.
Yours truly,