Tag: mental illness

Finding Joy in Simplicity – Or the Other Way Around

~ Henry Butterfly ~ Leave a comment

There’s one chore in the day that I always brings me joy – actually, if I didn’t get this one chore done, I’d probably be on the other side of joy.

You’ll never guess what it is. It’s too simple. Way too simple. Doesn’t make any sense, really, as to why it provides joy. But it does.

The simple chore is watering my garden. Yes, you’re probably thinking, “This dude is about to write a blog on watering his garden,” and you’re probably right. We’ll see where the keyboard takes us. And if it takes us there, so be it.

I’ve asked myself many times why this 30-40 minute chore lights up my day. I really can’t figure out an answer to that question, and quite frankly, I don’t think it matters. Maybe I’ll get to that by the end of this blog – usually that’s what happens. Ah, the power of writing and self-exploration. Anyway, what matters is the end result: Joy.

I start with my garden beds, filled with way too many peppers, tomatoes, and herbs. I wish I had a few more people in my life to share these with, but I do my best to bring the Shishito peppers to a certain friend and the hot peppers to a friend that enjoys stuffed cheeseburgers. My mother loves tomatoes, so she gets priority on those. You’d think that’s what would bring me joy, but it’s not. Yes, giving is something is fulfilling and should never be taken for granted, but allowing growth and life by a simple action of turning on some water… that’s where the joy comes from for me.

Also, have you ever just stopped and watched a sprinkler do its job? It really is mesmerizing. Highly recommend.

I recently purchased a couple of bushes for the front of my house. Two plants that I’m really proud of – yes, I’m proud of my plants. They’re doing quite well, thank you very much. Each evening, right around 8 PM CST, I go outside and water those two new additions to my garden family. Each time I inspect the health of the bushes & notice the immense growth these bushes are experiencing. That’s what brings me that joy I keep harping on about. See! We ended up with a reason for the joy! Again, the power of writing and self-observation.

Why are these new bushes growing? Well, the sun helps, obviously – but the genuine joy I have when I water my garden helps, too.

I do want you to get something out of this blog. I know what I want you to get out of this. It’s something that one of my favorite therapists said to me years back after getting over an intense breakup: Celebrate the small happinesses in your life.

Now, what’s that mean? What constitutes a small happiness? Again, it’s quite simple. Did you make yourself a sandwich today & enjoy that sandwich? That’s a small happiness. Did you open the door for someone today and receive a thank you? That’s a small happiness. The list goes on and on, but really it’s about appreciating the simple things in life as much as the complex.

Don’t take anything for granted. When I move from this house, I’ll miss my garden. However, I’ll start another one, and I’ll water it each & every day.

Joy is something we don’t experience every day. Notice that. Understand that. Also understand that we don’t experience it because we don’t allow ourselves to experience it. It always comes down to the “bigger” things in life, but joy can come from some of the most customary acts in our life.

I wish you well. Try not to beat the shit out of yourself.

Something About Forgiveness

~ Henry Butterfly ~ Leave a comment

Couldn’t figure out a title there. Open to suggestions. Also open to featured image ideas. Really, any suggestions on how to run a blog would be helpful at this point.

OK, let’s set the scene.

“Adult,” aged 20… maybe 21. Can’t remember if this was opiate me or regular me. Just bought a puppy, a beautiful black german shepherd/lab mix. Something about that dog (still alive & doing amazing) pushed me to apply at a startup natural pet food store. Recently opened in one of the nicer pockets of town, it seemed like the perfect job at the time. And it was. It was a job I felt a sense of purpose whenever I walked through that door & heard their dog paw chime. Being around animals, around people loving animals, and helping people help those animals live longer. Can’t get that much better for me. If you’re feeding your dog and/or cat Purina or Science Diet, shame on you. Seriously, stop.

I was hired as an under-the-table inventory manager (did I do the hyphen thing right?). The first manager in this little shop’s history. Remember, I was 20, maybe 21. Either really drugged out or trying to work through how to live life without being drugged out. Probably not the best guy to put in that position, but the sweet, innocent owners didn’t know that. Us drug addicts are pros at putting on a face.

The owners were both first generation immigrants, one from Asia, one from Europe. They moved to my hometown to finish up college and pursue opportunities, and they did just that. They followed their passion of business, they followed their passion of animals. They were people I connected with right away – and now that I think about it… they might’ve been the best bosses I’ve ever had.

Anyway, you’re probably asking yourself why any of this matters. Well, I’m sure you can guess I messed up somehow, you just don’t know how bad.

I can’t remember my motive, honestly I can’t. Maybe I was lacking money for rent, maybe I needed money for drugs. Maybe I was just a klepto. Again, I don’t remember, but I do remember finding a way to work the system with a “return item” hack. Essentially I would find an item in the store, run it through the system, and return it. Rather simple when you think about it, and as the inventory manager, it was something only I would notice… for a while.

After putting a dent in the bottom line for about two to three months, the owners finally figured it out. Being the genuinely nice people they were, they allowed me to pay them back & not involve the cops. Of course I apologized, but I don’t remember meaning it. My mind was on getting caught. Again, I was a shiiiiiitty young adult/kid/whatever. There wasn’t a reason to be kind to me, but they decided to be kind. More importantly, they decided to forgive.

Today I stopped at the store, a new one since they’ve done so well since over the past decade or so. They’re now at four stores along with an online presence. It’s really great to see.

I walked in and noticed the gentleman owner. It was he & I, alone, in the store, no music, no nothing. I was scared, really I was. Every time I enter one of their stores I instantly think of how I robbed the damn place. Let me repeat what I did for those in the back: I robbed a natural pet food store owned by first generation immigrants.

Being alone, the owner & I collectively decided to start a conversation, and quickly I developed the absolute need to genuinely apologize. I didn’t go in there thinking this moment would happen, but it did. The response I received was… well, after writing this, I guess expected. The owner assured me over & over that he held nothing against me. The owner asked questions about how I was doing, what I’m doing for work, & where I’m living nowadays. He treated me like the first day I met him – that’s true forgiveness.

I talked, he listened. After that, I listened, he talked. Now you might be thinking, “Oh, they’re just exchanging niceties.” WRONG. Why would you think that? Why are you so pessimistic all the time?!

The owner talked about bringing me back on staff, impromptu. Was I surprised? Hell yes I was. I took from this man when he had one store & barely afforded his one bedroom apartment. Yet this man, being the type of person he is, looked past my one bad moment (well, my two to three months of bad moments) & decided to look at the good of me. Something maybe I should do a bit more often.

As always, I have no fucking clue what you’ll get out of this post. It was just a cool moment I wanted to share with you. I hope you have a cool moment soon.

I wish you well. Try not to beat the shit out of yourself.

Accepting Help

~ Henry Butterfly ~ Leave a comment

Sometimes you have to let go of your pride, your guilt, & just accept help.

No, I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to myself. This is a hard thing for me to grasp.

As my neighbor behind me plays the national anthem at 7:12 PM CST (no idea why he plays it three times a day), I sit here on a tiny cushion in the middle of my freshly mowed lawn (oh boy do I love a freshly mowed lawn). I don’t want to hear the anthem followed by some talk radio show (again, why? Just why? Listen to it inside, listen to it with headphones, but don’t blare it across the fucking neighborhood), but it’s not that bad. I can still somewhat focus on what I’m writing about, I swear. It’s not like I’ve…

Shit.

Anyway, let’s get back to my problem of accepting help – specifically medical & financial help. It’s hard. I don’t know which one is more difficult for me – medical help means I’m weak (to me) & financial help means I’m weak (to me). However, I’ve been told that some of the deepest regrets come from not accepting a genuine attempt of someone trying to help you (yeah, I confused myself with that sentence, too). I kinda believe it. I also kinda hate the thought of being weak. I mean, I already feel that enough each & every day. Last thing I want to do is add to that feeling.

But maybe I’m just a fucking idiot. And maybe realizing that fact isn’t terrible in this circumstance. Why would my pride, my ego, any guilt be any reason I turn down help right now? I fucking need help. You’re reading this blog, you can tell I’m all over the damn place.

I’m being offered help & my stupid ass was pushing it away. Until I didn’t. I finally said yes. I said the word “yes.” I didn’t say it loudly. I didn’t say it proudly. But I said it. I said it. And I’m grateful not just for the support around me, the help I’m receiving, but also that I came to the right conclusion on this matter. I didn’t let my pride stand in my way for too long.

Never turn down help because you think you’re bigger than that. You aren’t. We’re all small here. That’s a reason we do better when we’re around others. People help people, I’ll say it till I die.

I really have no clue what you’ll pull from this blog. Honestly I don’t. I find myself writing just to write now, which is… refreshing. My buddy always says to end everything with a positive. I think I’ll stop here.

I wish you well. Try not to beat the shit out of yourself.

Waking Up Feeling* Empty

~ Henry Butterfly ~ Leave a comment

I don’t know how to guide anyone on this topic. Really, I don’t. I’m scrambling myself right now trying to cope with the title of this blog. Each morning it feels like something new, but it’s almost impossible to pick out why I feel the way I feel from one day to the next. I’ll admit it, last night I felt empty as well. This morning? It’s amplified.

My initial thoughts this morning were along the lines of:
– What the fuck do I do for the next 16 hours?
– Meh, vacation is over. Back to my normal routine.
– I’ll be alone all day.
– At least I have my dogs.
– Will my dogs be enough?
– Holy shit what do I do for the next 16 hours?
– Will I be able to eat today?
– Can I go back to bed?
– This blog

As you can see, every one of those internal questions if begging an answer out of me. Asking me, “are you empty inside?” I can’t answer this question completely and truthfully. My best guess at this moment is sometimes I am, sometimes I’m not. There’s really no rhyme or reason behind it any longer. And it is getting very, very tough.

When I was on vacation, I mostly thought of my limitations. I’ve always wanted to live in Boston, but a shitty house with an even more shitty backyard costs $1MM or above. How does anyone afford that, especially coming from the midwest? Yes, start small, I get it. But I have two giant dogs that keep me sane. I’m not leaving them behind.

I guess the only thing that’s helped me this morning is my routine. Jumping on the computer, typing out random shit, and answering a few work calls. It’s a weird mix to go from writing about emptiness, depression, anxiety to all of a sudden answering a call to discuss a sales deal I have in the works. It really is. Two completely different worlds. One real, one fake.

I’ve thought about asking for a leave of absence from my job as I work through these difficulties, but during COVID-19 that’s just an impossible ask. I’ve thought about doing an MBA, but I have no fucking money. I don’t want more debt. Yes, it’s an investment in yourself. I understand. But did you actually read what I wrote above? I’m at the point where I don’t feel like investing is my best bet. It’s all about survival right now.

I know this post probably doesn’t help you. Hell, it probably isn’t helping me. But I needed to put it out there. I needed a couple sets of eyes to see this, hear this, and hopefully use this as some sort of way to tell themselves “I’m not empty inside.” Because, well, most likely you aren’t. You probably just feel that way, similar to me. How do we snap out of it? I’m open to any suggestions. Really. Any suggestion.

I wish you well. Try not to beat the shit out of yourself.

* emphasis on the feeling, not necessarily the possibile reality

Waking Up in an Unfamiliar Place

~ Henry Butterfly ~ Leave a comment

If you read my blog from yesterday morning, you would know I’m currently on vacation. I’m doing my best to call it a vacation, but this morning proved to me it’s also a challenge. And a big one at that.

I messed up RIGHT AWAY in this challenge. I texted my ex this morning once I woke up. I don’t know if I dreamed about something (never can remember my dreams) or something just took control over me, but I did it. And I regret it. She’s on an island right now – I’m in some random apartment in Boston. Big difference there, eh? Be more positive, I know.

OK, let’s get to the topic at hand. Sorry, had to let a little bit out of what I’m going through this morning, and I guess that ties into the subject matter of this morning: Waking up in a new place (with anxiety, depression, etc., but you all know where this is going, why do I keep explaining myself?).

Waking up in a new place is never easy for those that suffer from mental illness or lack essential mental awareness. I mean, shit, the yoga meditation I use to fall asleep took me THREE times last night. I usually knock out in five minutes (the meditation is 18 minutes). It was tough. I woke up at 6 AM and didn’t have the balls to get out of bed for another two hours. I knew this morning would be tough. I didn’t think it’d be this tough. I knew I’d have to pull out my computer and start typing so I can get through this shi. Why? Because I can’t be a depressed piece of shit all day long. That’s no vacation. That’s imprisoning myself.

So how do I snap out of it? Well, right here is a good start. Honestly taking my meds is another good start. So, I’m 2/2 so far. What else? I’m racking my brain here and finding nothing, so if you have any input, I’d much appreciate it.

Massachusetts allows recreational cannabis. I mean, that could be an option. If I go to a dispensary, we can count that as 3/3, right?

All jokes aside (that last question wasn’t a joke, who am I kidding?), I feel kinda fucked this morning. I’m sure I’ll snap out of it, whatever that means. I always do at some point in the day. And that’s what I look forward to, but you want to know the healthiest shit you can do when you’ve woken up distressed about God knows what? Soak in it. Embrace it. Take it in. Let the thoughts come and go. It fucking hurts, I know. I know it hurts. But you have to let those thoughts in or else they’ll come back ten times harder the next time.

So next time you find yourself waking up in an unfamiliar area, remember there are things you can do to help make it feel right. And it always starts with you.

Also, yes, I know this wasn’t my best work. You don’t have to critique me, I can handle that on my own.

I wish you well. Try not to beat the shit out of yourself.

Update: We ended up getting invited to a beach house in Cape Cod. Told ya, just keep living and shit works out.

Let Yourself Live

~ Henry Butterfly ~ Leave a comment

Right now I sit with a very, very heavy mask on my face. I think it’s a smidge too big for my face, so excuse me if I have a mistype or two. Can’t really see right now.

I sit next to, well six feet from, many people I’ve never met before. Today I’m off to Massachusetts to enjoy Boston, a city I’ve never been to, and spend time with my best friend. Is it a bit scary right now when I’m in such a weird time in my life? Hell yes. Did I almost (I definitely did) cry as I left my dogs with my parents? Hell yes. But what’s important is I’m taking a slight risk to get out of my bubble. To get away from my routine. That’s important.

Why is it important? Well, if you keep doing the same shit, you’re gonna keep living in that same shit. It’s important to switch it up sometimes, even if you’re in the middle of a pandemic. Yeah, the place I’m going may not offer everything it normally would, but my little home offers less, I’ll tell ya that.

Please remember, no matter what, even when you’re thinking life is absolute shit: Make sure you live. Make sure you take chances. Make sure you do stuff that scares you. Facing a fear is one of the most empowering actions people like us can take.

I promise by the end of whatever you decide to take a risk on, you won’t have a single regret. Except maybe one or two drunken nights where you may or may not have told a random person to fuck off. I mean, there’s slight regret there, but we’re not perfect. I know that. You know that.

Live your life, no matter what fear tells you to do. Take that chance. It’s fucking worth it.

Ope! We’re boarding. Time to go.

I wish you well. Try not to beat the shit out of yourself.

Update: Of course I’m the one chosen to “voluntarily” check my bag.

A Tip for Those Self-Defeating Types

~ Henry Butterfly ~ Leave a comment

It’s not like we like to feel bad about ourselves, talk bad about ourselves, and mope around all day (or do we?). But I learned not too long ago that unless we make one small change in how we talk about ourselves internally and, more importantly, how we talk about ourselves to our support system, it all falls apart. All of it.

I recently got out of a relationship. Many things factored into that, mostly my self-defeating and destructive other side. Also, I didn’t help myself when my good side was out, and all it took was one helpful tip from one of my best friends to shift that slightly. Oh, don’t think I got the girl back from this tip. It’s not that great of a tip, but still worth your time… I think.

It’s really quite simple. If you’re like me, you corner a friend or a relative that you trust and just GO OFF. It could be mass texts about how terrible you are, how you’ll always be alone, how no one can help you (it’s true, no one can… except yourself – you’ll probably get tired of me saying that). I mean it’s honestly quite amazing the terrible ways I can think to describe myself and how that other side manipulates me when it’s in control. I mean I say some scary fucking shit. It scares me, so I can only imagine what it does to my support system.

But my buddy had an idea. He actually gave me somewhat of an ultimatum, and I’ve thanked him for that. He made me make a decision. And what he asked wasn’t all that hard.

For me to continue to complain to him, bitch about this or that, and moan about how things could be exponentially better if I just had a different fucking mind, he needed me to provide a one positive thing about myself at the very end of my venting. That’s it. Just one.

An example (picture it as a text):
Me: I don’t know what the fuck to do, man, I’m losing a bit of myself every single day
Friend: something along the lines of “tell me more”
Me: I’m just an utter piece of shit. It’s honestly that simple. It sucks to think about, but maybe I’ll be like this forever. And if I’m like this forever, who the hell is gonna wanna stick around me?
Friend: listening
Me: I mean, I just fucking suck. I can’t even get through a single day without one meltdown. I can’t do ANYTHING. It’s like my mind is just fucking with me non-stop. I don’t know how much I can handle anymore.
Friend: OK, now tell me one positive thing about yourself. Just one.

That last line, that prompt to say one positive thing about myself, it sometimes made me laugh. But he told me if I didn’t start to say at least one positive thing about myself, he wasn’t going to be able to help/listen any longer. Man, I’m glad he told me to do that. Initially I wasn’t taking it that seriously and I’d plug in things like “I made a sandwich today” as my positive, but it still meant I was trying – or at least listened to what a valuable person in my life said to me. Sooner than later, I started to include it on a regular basis, and said more empowering things about myself that, in turn, would sometimes bust me out of the other side jail. I still sometimes slip up and forget to say that positive, but the thought always comes through, thanks to practice and a really, really good friend.

Again, I don’t know if this will work for you. I didn’t think it would work for me. But it kinda does. It’s definitely supplemental, along with most everything when it comes to treating/handling mental illness. And if you haven’t tried this already, try it. Even after reading this blog, just say one positive thing about yourself. It’s worth a shot, isn’t it? And wouldn’t it be nice if it just made any type of difference for you at all? I mean, we don’t have much more to lose here.

I wish you well. Try not to beat the shit out of yourself.

The Stigma with Mental Health Meds (don’t let it stop you)

~ Henry Butterfly ~ Leave a comment

Yesterday I had a wet net on my head. After that, a cotton swab rubbed on the left and right side of the inside of my mouth.

No, I wasn’t taken hostage (that would’ve been a massive plot twist in this blog). I had an EEG (An EEG tracks and records brain wave patterns) and a DNA cotton swab test. Why? Well, supposedly they help dwindle down what a psych thinks is best for you in terms of medication. It’s weird. The EEG was really, really weird. You wait to hear the “target tone” and you click a button once you do, but more often than not, they plug other noises in there – such as farts, burps, and babies crying. It really isn’t pleasant.

As for the cotton swab thing? Eh, no big deal. Neither were that big of a deal. But they are helping me figure out something that is a big deal.

I used to be against meds for a couple reasons:
1) I absolutely hated psychiatrists, they just seem like shitty people most of the time.
2) It never made sense how if my family has a history of pancreatic cancer then I should be prescribed Med A, or if my family didn’t, I should be prescribed Med B – you can explain it all you want to me, include scientific facts if you want, it still doesn’t make sense to me.

Then I happened to fall into a very, very dark place and I had nowhere to turn. I had to do what was right for me, what was right for the people around me, and what’s going to keep me going in the future (in a small way).

Meds aren’t all that bad. Actually, since I started taking my depression medication a couple months back, my sex drive actually kicked up. Also, I don’t really know what the fuck the med does, which I think is a good thing? I don’t feel it hovering over my brain, clouding up my thoughts, you know – all the bad shit people tell you meds do to you. Sometimes they don’t, especially if you find the right ones and you somehow find a good psychiatrist. I only had to go through five to find one decent one…

So what the fuck am I saying in this tangent? I’m saying never rule anything out. Yeah, it sucks to admit that you’re on depression medication, anxiety medication, all that, but it sucks even more to suffer heavily from depression and anxiety, doesn’t it? Fuckin’ suck it up. You aren’t bigger than the next person and neither am I. We all need help – maybe meds aren’t for you, but don’t think for a second that this depression will just go away all by itself. This BPD will just magically poof and leave you for good. That anxiety that makes that heart pump? It’s not going away unless you do something.

That’s what we all have to learn. It’s not the meds that help us (well, they do, but that’s not what I mean), it’s not the therapy that helps us (again, it does help us), and it’s not the psychiatrist that helps us (meh, I’ll stick to my hatred with psychiatrists, they just drive me nuts). What helps us is us. Not just you, but your collective group, that support system I’ve talked about, even if it’s just your cute lil’ dog.

My support system told me it was OK to be medicated. They assured me that I’m not fucking stupid and I won’t fucking lose myself if I do take meds. And guess what, they were right.

I wish you well. Try not to beat the shit out of yourself.

Waking up on the Good Side

~ Henry Butterfly ~ Leave a comment

We’ve all been here. The joy I have when I wake up not already hating myself is substantial. But here’s the thing: It doesn’t always last. Again, Mr. and Ms. Reader, I would love your feedback here, but I’ll share some things that I make sure I do when the good side is meeting me for coffee in the morning.

First things first, get the fuck out of bed. I make sure to get the hell out of my dark house (bad window placement), too, and get outside. I’m blessed with a beautiful backyard, a garden, a couple of dogs, so outside makes sense for me. For you, that might be different. Maybe a long shower, bath, or simply stretching and breathing is your way to maintain that good side. Whatever works, just make sure you identify it.

Some other things you must do to keep that good side around as long as possible; make sure you stick to your schedule, understand that things may not go the way you think they should that day, and most of all, be aware. Remember that you are the person, the only person, that can keep you on that good side. That’s powerful. You have that power.

Does the good side always stick around? Hell no. I mean, just thinking about writing this blog while in the shower, the other side made sure to let me know that I’d most likely forget what I wanted to write by the time I got to my computer. The motherfucker was kinda right (I think I had more influential shit to say, but honestly can’t remember), but still, I made it out here. I made it to the computer. I’m sharing my experience. So another thing that’s helping me right now? Sharing. Again, might not be for you, but it’s worth a shot.

Another essential for me is making sure I reach out to my friends and loved ones on my good days. It’s always a great reinforcement to see that your humor, your smile, and your wittiness is still with you – and there’s no one better to use that humor on than your friends and loved ones. Don’t let it go to waste. Never let this side of you go to waste. Always build off of it.

Also, don’t think it about it too much. I mean, I might be fucked because I’m writing this blog on it. Five minutes from now I might hate the world, but I really don’t think so. Why? Well, I said before… We have the power, not the other side.

I wish you well. Try not to beat the shit out of yourself.

Relationships Don’t Work (if we aren’t aware)

~ Henry Butterfly ~ 1 Comment

I’ve noticed in my depression, anxiety, the other side, that I am just not very good at relationships.

Don’t get me wrong. I am good… when I’m good. When the other side is in control? Nah, not good. I mean the shit that comes out of my mouth is unreal. I know I cuss a lot on this blog, but you should see that other side in real life. Actually, you shouldn’t.

OK, back to it. Being bad at relationships, right? It has me wondering, and I wouldn’t mind if you pitched in here, Mr. or Ms. Reader, should I involve myself with anyone else in whatever’s left of my life?

It’s a really bleak question to ask yourself when you’re on that other side, but it’s an interesting question when you’re not. You know you can be good, but sometimes you fail. Actually, it’s not just sometimes. It’s a lot of the time. Like waaaaay too much. How many people that you love have you pushed away? Luckily I can still count on one hand, but it’s getting close to that second hand.

So what can people like us do? We can’t deny ourselves the joy that love can bring, that companionship brings, just because of our stupid mental illness. That’s worsening your own self. That’s denying your good side a chance to show up a bit more often.

But is it fair for the other person? This is the one I struggle with. My mind, everything really, tells me no. But there’s this thought in the back of my mind, really deep back there, that says yes, it is fair. Why? Because there’s something called unconditional love, and there will be that person out there for you, that unconditionally loves you and puts up with your other side because they, again, unconditionally love you.

Also, be mindful. Be aware. Understand when you need to step away. Sticking around and trying to battle that other side while you’re with the person you care most about… don’t do that. Separate yourself. At least for me, that’s what’s helped in the past. It just hasn’t been quite enough. Maybe you’re better at talking it out than I am. Do what fits you best.

Another thing to always tell yourself is you will never know when you’ll find love. It’s stupid to think that you being active on a dating app or heading to the bars will bring you love. Nothing brings you love. That shit just shows up, and when it does, remember what I said. Be mindful. Be aware. Step away when needed. And as always, try your best to think of that good side you have.

I’m sure I’ll write more on this subject, but for now, that’s all I got.

I wish you well. Try not to beat the shit out of yourself.