I was Suicidal.

In honor of Suicide Prevention Month, and for those who are still struggling. Life is hard, but it does get better. You're a fighter and a survivor. 

I was suicidal.

I was suicidal and I woke up every morning to go out and play.

I was broken and I put a smile on my face while trying to fix those around me.

I was overwhelmed and I walked into work to do my job day after day.

I was hurting and I was searching for God because someone told me He was the key.

I was exhausted and I was wide awake at night just trying to breathe.

I was stressed and I fought to keep those around me comfortable and alive.

I was crying and I was alone in my room pretending not to grieve.

I was losing and I was holding onto hope that I would somehow survive.

I was suicidal.

And you didn't even notice.

       by Katelyn Marie, 9/20/23

In 2014, I was 1 in 275,000. Which is the estimated number of suicide survivors each year.

Worldwide, nearly 800,000 people die by suicide each year, averaging one death every 40 seconds. Suicide is currently the 2nd leading cause of death for ages 15-24 years.

I'm angry that we aren't doing more to prevent this. We aren't given the resources we need. I was on a waitlist for 7 months before I was able to see a therapist this year. 7 months. 212 days. And I wanted to be dead more than half of those.

According to the CDC, to prevent suicide, we need to:

• Improve household financial security
• Stabilize housing
• Reduce access to lethal means
• Create healthy organizational policies and culture
• Reduce substance use
• Cover mental health conditions in health insurance policies
• Increase provider availability
• Provide rapid and remote access to help
• Create safer suicide care
• Promote healthy peer norms
• Engage community members in shared activities
• Support social-emotional learning programs
• Teach parenting skills to improve relationships
• Support resilience through education programs
• Respond to crises
• Plan for safety and follow-up after an attempt
• Provide therapeutic approaches

And you are allowed to be angry at the fact that we do not have access to these things, because we should. Mental health support is a basic necessity. But there is hope, and there is help. If I can get through this, you can too. You are not alone.

Call or text 988

Chat at 988lifeline.org

An Apology Letter

"The cry we hear from deep in our hearts
comes from the wounded child within.
Healing this inner child's pain is the key to
transforming anger, sadness and fear."
-Thich Nhat Hanh

It has been so hard to write lately because I don't feel like myself. I lost myself again, and I haven't quite found her yet. I can't find the little girl inside me that was so full of hope and promise. But all I can do is apologize to her. Tell her I'm sorry for not nurturing her the way I should have, because she deserved so much more. She still deserves so much more, so this post is for her. This is for the little girl with curly hair and big brown eyes, because that little girl knew her worth. And someday, she's going to recognize that worth again.

It's time to rehash old wounds. 

I wouldn't say I had a rough childhood, but I've spent my whole life focusing on the trauma surrounding my parent's divorce. It's been 20 years, and everything about it still hurts. At 7 years old I felt abandoned, and I don't think I've ever recovered from that. That little 7 year old girl started to believe she wasn't worth loving and people were going to leave her. And that single belief has turned into an endless cycle. I've turned into someone who pushes everyone away. I don't let people get close to me because in my heart I truly believe that they're going to leave anyway. But they have, and they do.

So to my 7 year old self, I'm sorry. I'm sorry you took the blame for something that was out of your control. You are so worthy of love, and I promise somebody is going to stay someday.

My mama got remarried when I was 8, before I could even comprehend the full extent of the divorce. My life was uprooted and I was thrown into an unknown family. I spent my days in an unfamiliar house and I couldn't crawl into bed at night with my mom anymore. In my little mind, I no longer felt like a priority. I experienced betrayal trauma, which resulted in throwing tantrums to get attention. It was the only way I knew how to express the emotions. And this continued for years.

So to my 8 year old self, I'm sorry. I'm sorry you didn't feel like you could safely communicate your thoughts and feelings. You deserve to be seen and heard, and I promise your voice will be heard someday.

My daddy married my best friend's mom right before I turned 9. How cool to have a friend living in the same house as me, right? But I was only there four days out of the month, so my room didn't get to be my room anymore. I was moved into the smaller one, and it's so strange the way children are affected by change. There was so much of it in such a short amount of time that I just didn't feel safe. I lost my security because four new people lived in my house, and it didn't feel like my house anymore.

So to my 9 year old self, I'm sorry. I'm sorry you felt like your sense of security was ripped away from you. You have since become the safe place you always needed, and I promise you will have your very own home someday.

Fast forward 10 years.

I graduated from high school, but never had any idea what I wanted to do with my life. Little, naive 19 year old me was trying to figure out how the real world worked. I downloaded all the dating apps because I didn't know how else to meet people at that age. And I trusted everybody. I saw the best in people the same way I always had. So one day I drove down to Logan, Utah to meet a returned missionary boy from Utah State. He always said the sweetest things, and he really had his head on straight. But in the late hours of the night, I was trapped under his body begging him to get off. I haven't trusted anybody since.

I attempted suicide 2 weeks later.

So to my 19 year old self, I'm sorry. I'm sorry you were put in a position to see the darkness in this world, and I'm sorry you believed that killing yourself was your only escape. You are worthy of so much good, and I promise that you'll be able to trust again someday.

A couple years later, I settled for the first man who saw me for me and not my past. I hated myself so much that I thought someone else's love could save me. But I was back in the middle of another trauma cycle. At 21, I realized I deserved better. I wanted more than just something surface level and mediocre. So I packed my things and I left. My divorce was final two months later. There was never a single regret, even to this day; however, the divorce left me feeling unlovable. If my own husband couldn't love me the way I needed, how could anybody else? That feeling hasn't changed.

So to my 21 year old self, I'm sorry. I'm sorry you ever thought you needed to settle for half-ass love. You are more than enough, and you deserve to be loved. I promise you'll find a love that sets your soul on fire.

...

To everyone I've hurt because I blamed my trauma, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that I projected my pain onto you. You deserve better than that, and I promise I'll do better.

...

Dear me,

You're 27 years old. It's okay to let go of the past, you're safe now. I'm sorry I ever made you feel unworthy and unloved. I'm sorry I let you hold so tight to your trauma that you forgot who you were without it. You were never made to feel small and insignificant. You were made to move mountains. Nobody, including yourself, can make you feel inferior without your permission. Stop giving away your power. You know what you deserve, so chase after it. Believe in yourself a little harder. Life is going to work out the way it's supposed to and I know you know that. You're brave and strong, and you've been through so much. And you will continue to get through it because you're a fighter. You are loved beyond measure, even if it's not always by the people you hoped it would be. If they don't see your worth, that's their problem. They'll come around.. but if they don't, say goodbye. You were born worthy of every good thing in this world. That worth never goes away.

I love you, and I forgive you.

Love, me.

A Misunderstood Life

 "You may think you know what autism 'looks like'.
In fact, though, when you've met one person with autism
you've met ONE person with autism. Some autistic people are
chatty; others are silent. Many have sensory issues, gastrointestinal
problems, sleep difficulties and other medical problems. Others may
have social communication delays - and that's it."

What is Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD)? It is defined as "a serious developmental disorder that impairs the ability to communicate and interact". But honestly, autism is so much more than that and it's not as simple to understand as you might think. Autism Spectrum Disorder is identified in about 1 in every 54 children. It is also 5 times more likely to be found in boys than in girls. Before autism was an official diagnosis, it was associated with schizophrenia, and it did not get it's own term until 1943. Some people believe ASD is caused by vaccines, while others believe it's because of certain medications taken while pregnant. But what science has learned over the years is that ASD comes from genetics, or a genetic mutation. In other words, autism is a syndrome/disorder - not a disease. Therefore, there are certain traits/characteristics involved, not symptoms. There is no medication. Autistic people are not sick, and I think that is a common misunderstanding.

7 Common Traits of Austism Spectrum Disorder:

1. Difficulty w/ social interaction*
2. Unusual interest in objects*
3. Difficulty w/ changes in routine*
4. Excel in one area, while struggling in another
5. Unusually strong reactions to one or more senses (sensory overload)*
6. Will do (or talk about) the same thing over & over again
7. Intense and prolonged emotional reactions*

I have 5 out of 7*. When I was younger, autism wasn't nearly as common as it is now. Not very many people were familiar with it, and it's one disorder that commonly gets misdiagnosed. I was often referred to as a "spoiled brat" because I would throw tantrums, as in, throw myself on the floor kicking, screaming and crying. I also had the worst social anxiety, and refused to look people in the eyes when they were talking to me. The older I got, the more I learned how to "mask" these characteristics. "Masking is a survival strategy. It generally involves intentionally learning neurotypical behaviors and mimicking them in social situations." This is very common among autistic girls/women, which makes for a harder diagnosis.

I've independently studied autism since middle school. I've worked in schools and group homes with autistic children and adults. I also have autistic cousins. I recently did a poll on instagram asking if self-diagnosis (of anything) is valid. 40% of voters said no, which honestly kind of shocked me. I know, I know some people do it for attention, but not everyone. We are the ones who live with ourselves every day. We know exactly how we are feeling at all times and what is going on in our own bodies. Hard fact.. doctors don't know everything; however, they do know a lot. But sometimes what we're feeling can't be explained, so how can a doctor make a diagnosis based on that information? Tests can be wrong too, unfortunately.

From what I know now, those 'tantrums' that I was having as a child were meltdowns from being overwhelmed. They still happen, which once resulted in a misdiagnosis of bipolar disorder. The real diagnosis is Sensory Processing Disorder. I've had it my whole life, but was not aware/familiar with the term until about 4 years ago. I have since learned how to notice the warning signs of an upcoming meltdown and when to remove myself from overwhelming situations. As an adult, I've become very much an extrovert and crave social situations; although, I still struggle with social cues. I don't make eye contact because it makes me very uncomfortable and I typically speak in a monotone voice, without much expression. I'm not a being a brat - this is my normal, and it's okay. 

The older I get and the more understanding I have, the less I mask my characteristics because I want to bring awareness to them. And the less I mask, the more characteristics I notice. Unusual interest? Yes. I get fixated on specific items or hobbies. Sometimes it'll last a few months, and other times it will be a couple years. Such as my wonderful and childish obsession with all things Beauty and the Beast. That didn't come from childhood. Difficulty with change? I suppose it has always been a struggle, but I didn't acknowledge it until a few years ago when I had a meltdown in the middle of DisneyWorld. Intense emotional reactions? I feel all the feels.. and I feel them hard. Someone can say no to me over the smallest thing, and it can cause me to cry (sob, even) for hours. Example: my brother not letting me eat some chicken nuggets that were in the freezer, because they were bought for him. This has become a joke in my family and it's pretty funny to me now. But in the moment, I was starving and I was very upset.

Trigger warning

So do I think self-diagnosis is valid? Yes, because growing up with 5 out of 7 autism characteristics, explains a lot. It has come to my attention that using the words high or low functioning though, is wrong. It can be hurtful. And even the people that you think are "high functioning"? They are until they're not. Autistic people have highs and lows, and it has nothing to do with their strengths and/or struggles. World Autism Awareness/Acceptance Day is coming up on April 2nd. With this in mind, here are some facts to be aware of: Autism Speaks is not a safe organization to donate to and support. Only 4% of their proceeds are used to support autistic people and their families. In 2009, they released a video comparing autism to aids and cancer, while indicating that autistic children are to blame for breaking up their parent's marriages. This organization also excludes autistic people from their leadership roles. Instead, please support: Autistic Inclusive Meets, Autistics For Autistics and/or Autistic Self Advocacy Network. Thank you.

If you have any question, please feel free to reach out and ask.

Love, 

Miss KatieBug

www.appliedbehavioranalysisprograms.com

www.aboutkidshealth.ca

www.healthline.com

Trauma, Part 2

"Owning our story and loving ourselves

through that process is the bravest

thing that we'll ever do."

-Brene Brown

trigger warning: rape

Okay, okay.. It has been sooo long since I've written a post. Many of you have reached out and held me accountable for it. Thank you. I promise I've been trying to write and I have like 7 drafts in my folder. I've felt kind of stuck. I want to say so many things, but I haven't been able to process and articulate the words correctly. All of my drafts (this is not one of them) will be posts at some point. As for what I'm about to talk about, I never wanted to. I hold a lot of shame and guilt for it. But like I've always said.. writing heals, and this post will get to the people who need it.

For a long time, I didn't believe that the rape affected me. And maybe for a long time it didn't. My brain took way longer to process it than most people. The trauma was never immediate for me. It took about 3-4 years to surface. I openly talked about my trauma process in my April 2019 post, and I'm still going through that. So with my fears aside, please let me tell you the most vulnerable pieces of my story that I don't quite understand.

It came up in casual conversation tonight, "so why do you just have sex with so many people?" And my heartbreaking response was, "because I'm too afraid to say no". Oof. I do not like saying that out loud. I don't want to admit that because it means I'm giving up my power. I'm so easily giving my power away to people who see me as an object. People who simply don't care, and don't even know that they're taking something away from me. But I could never put that blame on them. It's mine, and I acknowledge it.

I never wanted this kind of life for me. I never wanted to give a sacred piece of myself to so many people, so why have I done that? When we think of trauma we think of panic attacks. We think of sexual assault survivors who live in fear and anxiety. We think of war heroes who struggle with post-traumatic stress disorder. We think of lives lost to suicide because their thoughts overwhelmed them. We don't think about the guilt, the coping mechanisms, and the need for control. We don't think about the underlying issues.

In my traumatic experience six years ago, I didn't have any control over the situation. I felt helpless. Unlike the normal fight or flight, my emergency response is to freeze, so I did. And I do. But the key word here is "control". Unfortunately, some sexual assault survivors (including myself), use sex as a way to regain control of our bodies. "If I give it away, then they can't take it." It's an unhealthy thought process. But in victims minds we think that even if we say no, they'll do what they want anyway. I've said no, and men have been angry. I've said no, and men have begged. I've said no.. and I've been raped. So it's easier, and less scary, to just let it happen.

Maybe now that I understand this part of my trauma, I can change the cycle. Nobody has the right to take away my power. It's mine. I own it. 

To all women, and men, remember that you have the power inside of you. You can say no, and you don't ever have to give an explanation. You don't owe anybody anything. Your body is your own, and you deserve to fight for that. You are worth so much more than you will ever know. Even through trauma, you've survived up to this point. It's okay to acknowledge the pain that got you here. Give yourself some credit, and actually -- you do owe somebody something.. yourself. You owe yourself love. You owe yourself forgiveness. You owe yourself compassion. 

"What we don't need in the midst of struggle

is shame for being human." -Brene Brown

You never know the underlying issues in someone else's story. I beg of you to look at people with every ounce of love and compassion. Not shame, not judgment. Just love. We're all human, and we are just trying to survive. You deserve the love that you are so freely giving to everyone else. You are made of stardust and magic, and you deserve to be seen as such. If you need anything, please reach out. To a therapist, to a trusted family member, to me. I will always listen, but if you're not ready to share your story yet, that's okay too. I see you. I love you. I believe in you. You are strong, and you will get through this.

Love,

Miss KatieBug <3

Crisis Phone Line: 1-800-273-8255

Crisis Text Line: text HOME to 741741

Un-Apologetically Me

"You are not defined by someone's partial view

of your life, your strengths, or your history.
Their inability to see or appreciate the complete
version of you only limits them, not you.
Stand strong in your truth and purpose
and continue being your bad-ass, unapologetic self."
-Steve Maraboli

December 8th, 1994 - Chandler Regional Medical Center.

Katelyn Marie. 8 pounds, 3 ounces.

We're born into this world and given a name. That's it. That's what we're supposed to be known by for the rest of our life. One name. We're perfect--untouched by the world around us. Then we start getting older.. and the labels arise. Our names are used less and less by people.

You're 6 years old and you are annoying.
You're 12 years old and you just got called fat. Maybe a loser?
You're 18 years old and now you are being sexualized and looked at differently.

And what about the stigmas surrounding mental health? Shame. Embarrassment.

Does anyone really know you? Do you even know who you are anymore?

Maybe you're a wife, mother, father, son, teacher, engineer, leader, follower, etc.
Maybe you think you're afraid, lost, broken, unworthy..

-
-
-

Who am I?
I'm Katelyn. At 12 years old, I was diagnosed with a chemical imbalance (depression) in my brain. At 22 years old, I was diagnosed with generalized anxiety & panic. And now, at 24, I recently found out that I have sensory processing disorder (*SPD). I've been in therapy on and off since I was seven, and society teaches me to be embarrassed about it. I'm taught to stay quiet, because I'm the "crazy" girl when people realize I see a therapist and a psychiatrist. I'm overly sensitive. When I'm dressed up and going out, I'm 'sexy' or 'hot'. I'll get on your nerves, and sometimes I'm a brat. I lash out and throw tantrums that I still haven't figured out how to control. I heard someone refer to me by saying, "Oh her? You don't want to deal with her. She has depression and stuff, so she's a mess". These damn labels..
*SPD is a condition in which the brain has trouble receiving and responding to information that comes in through the senses.

We grow up hearing these horrible things about ourselves, and somewhere along the way, we start to internalize them. We believe them. We use what someone else said to define who we are. And then we say things like, "Look at this girl on Instagram, she's so _______". We've all done it. It's never positive. I wonder what her story is though. Everyone has a story.
     --Maybe that girl who you think is fat has poly-cystic ovary syndrome. She's struggling and she is already self conscious. There is more to her.
     --Maybe that father who you think is a "dead beat" never had a fighting chance. He's hurting and he wants those kids. There is more to him.

Maybe there is more under the surface that you'll never know or be able to see about someone. Just like there is so much more to you. You are so much more than your mental illness. You are so much more than the labels and the stigmas. You are so much more than every trial you have to fight through in this life. You are so much more than what people say about you. Believe that. If you ignore the labels, they won't stick. The labels are not yours to carry.

So who am I really?
I'm Katelyn. I am an advocate, a writer, a daughter.. but you know that. At 12 years old, I took piano lessons and although I'm not musically inclined, I found a love for music. At 22 years old, I truly learned how to love and accept myself on my own. And now, at 24, I'm back in my parent's house and learning to let go of people/things that don't help me grow. I go to therapy every week, and I'm a better person because of it. I am a fighter for what I believe in. I don't want to be called hot.. I just want to be pretty. Because I am. I am a lover of Jesus and know that I'm saved through him. I was blessed with a heart big enough to love every person in this world. I forgive easily. I like to dance alone in my apartment. I sing in front of anyone, without a care. I'm fascinated with the stars, and I love to play in the dirt. I still believe in magic and fairy tales. I am thankful every day for what life has put me through. I am strong, brave and powerful. I'm just me. The good, the bad.. it's all there! And I won't apologize for it.

Let the one who created you be the one who defines you. Don't let the labels stick. So who were you before the world told you who you should be?

Love, Miss KatieBug <3

Trauma.

"There are wounds that never show on the body
that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds."

*Trigger warning: rape

April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month. My story is not a secret. It is out here for the world to read, because I don't want anyone to feel alone the way I did for so long. But.. there is always suffering beyond the story. The story is the easy part. The trauma is the part that nobody ever talks about.

Trauma: "Emotional shock following a stressful event, which may be associated with 
physical shock and sometimes leads to long-term neurosis."

Denial. For a long time, I would not let myself believe that it was anything other than sex. I didn't want to believe that something so awful really happened to me, so I made up stories in my head. I took the blame. I tried everything I could to suppress the memory.

Fear. This one was rough. I wanted to be afraid of men, but I wasn't. In my mind, I needed them to help me feel better about the situation. But I was afraid of judgment. I was afraid of being labeled a slut. I was too afraid to ever say no to someone again..

Anger. How could he? He chose a girl so innocent and loving. He took something from me that I could never get back, and I hated him for it. I hated him for having power over me. I hated him for believing he didn't do anything wrong. I hated him, because I said no and he still did what he wanted.

Shame. I was humiliated. I could not claim to be a virgin anymore. I didn't save myself for marriage, like I always thought I would. He clearly had no respect for me; and in turn, I had no respect for myself. I had nothing left to give, and I did not want to be alive anymore. 

Guilt. Maybe this really was my fault. I always trusted people too easily.  Maybe I gave him the wrong look or sent off certain vibes. Maybe I didn't say no loud enough. Maybe he thought my cry was a good sign? I may have said no, but I didn't fight back. 

Moral Injury. So now I've had sex.. and I've tried to kill myself. Do I go to church and confess my sins? Did I lose my place in heaven? A returned missionary did this to me. I couldn't bear to go back to church. In my mind, I was broken. Past the point of no return. He damaged my spirit and my faith.

These are the six main emotional responses to trauma & these were my own thoughts in the midst of each one. They are a constant cycle. Today, even 5 years later, I still have several of these thoughts. "What could I have done differently?" is my most common. I know the truth, but trauma is tricky. I was raped, and it was not my fault. I never sinned. The God I know will still welcome me into heaven with open arms. We can talk ourselves through the thoughts, but what about everything else? What about the self sabotage and panic attacks?

So, here's to being vulnerable:

Because of him, I try to control others so they can't control me. I do not know how to properly handle being told to do something. Because of him, I do not know how to trust anyone, even after they prove to me that I can. I'm afraid to be left alone with people. Because of him, I purposely ruin good things/relationships to save myself any future pain. I leave people before they can leave me. Because of him, I am afraid to say no when I am in an uncomfortable situation. I just let unwanted things happen. Because of him, the panic attacks happen just from a kiss. And that is trauma.

I am working through this. I am in sexual assault counseling & support groups. It's okay to reach out and ask for help. It's okay to talk about it. It's okay to be vulnerable. It is not okay for someone to hold so much power over you that you lose yourself. And if you don't take anything else from this post, know this: I AM NOT WHAT HAPPENED TO ME. And neither are you. You are not the assault, abuse, pain, hurt, neglect, loss, or trauma. You are love. You are magic. You are worthy. YOU are whoever you want to be.

And absolutely none of what happened to you is your fault.

Love,

Miss KatieBug <3

Like a Storm

"Depression is like a storm. It starts slow,
Eating away at you slowly, then it becomes stronger,
And causes more damage. Then it stops,
And you think you're fine, that it's getting better.
Like it's safe to go outside now, and enjoy the finer things in life
Kind of like the eye of the storm. Then out of nowhere,
It hits you again, knocking you down,
Harder than before, until you're no more.
It swallows you, clogs your vision.
So then you can't see how close to ending it is.
And some don't make it, thinking that the only way
To stop the storm, is to stop themselves."

-Unknown

*trigger warning: suicidal thoughts

Journal Entry: August 14, 2018
I failed myself. I failed {all of you}, and I'm sorry. At least, that's how I feel right now. I thought I was better. I thought my depression was gone forever. But it's back, and it's worse. And I'm scared. I hate being alive most days again, but not exactly in a suicidal type of way. I don't want to hurt myself, but maybe a coma or something would suffice. I'm not opposed to getting hit by a car or something though. That's how I know I'm not safe.

I have been trying to write this blog post since that day back in August. I can only seem to get out a little at a time, because this hurts. This struggle is painful and I'm afraid of judgment. But today (Nov. 4), I will finish, so here it goes:

I've always been told that depression comes in waves, but I had never experienced it that way. Mine was terrible for years and years. I learned how to cope with the daily struggles and just accepted that I would live like that forever. Sleep my days away. Then one day, about a  year and a half ago, my depression disappeared. It was completely gone and life felt perfect. I was genuinely happy for the first time in my life, and that feeling lasted through the seasons. Not even winter depression showed up. I thought I was "cured". But sadly, the storm found it's way back to me.

The very first sign of my depression coming back (which started about mid-July) was anger. I'm not typically an angry person, but I was livid all the time at everybody. I was so confused and I honestly could not understand what was wrong with me. I was hurting myself and I was hurting those around me. I lost all of my patience. Every situation became too stressful and I couldn't cope. Because of this severe anger, I had to quit one of my jobs in fear that I would lash out and cause physical harm to somebody. I'm afraid of myself.

At the beginning of August, I went to my doctor and requested to be put back on antidepressants. If you've kept up with my blog, you know that I was medication free for over a year. It was hard to accept the medication again, and I was humiliated. I cried, a lot. But I need them for now. I've been taking them for 90 days, and they haven't helped entirely. I know I may be going through the trial and error process for a while. This post is different from my others, it's not about hope-it's about awareness. This disease is real and it is painful.

I also fought up the courage to start counseling, which I've been doing every week for about 2 months. I just recently started opening up to my counselor and we've had a couple of breakthroughs so far. I have come to realize certain things about my past and how they've affected me today, but I haven't gotten to a point where I know how to fix things. I am a work in progress right now, but I'm doing everything I can to seek help. And for those who are struggling with any type of mental illness, I highly suggest finding a trusted counselor to talk to. Talk things out weekly. Write things down daily.

The good days are alright. The bad days are extremely hard, and seem to happen too often. I cry and I beg the pain to end.
"Why do I have to live like this?"
"I don't want to be here anymore."
"I don't deserve to be happy."

I think about these three things at least once a week, sometimes more. But I do deserve to be happy, and I want to be alive. These thoughts creep their way in and my mind can't seem to let them go on the bad days. Why do I have to live like this? I don't know. Why does anyone have to live like this? It doesn't seem fair. We are at war with our minds daily.. but maybe, just maybe.. God needs warriors like us for something bigger. I'm trying to believe in myself. I'm trying to understand what I need to learn from this experience. I am here for a reason, and so are you. I am here to fight, so fight along with me. We can beat this. We can win. WE ARE WARRIORS.

Love, Miss KatieBug <3