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6 Things I Have Learned From Going to Therapy

6 Things I Have Learned From Going to Therapy

A Leap Of Faith

A Leap Of Faith

A Season of Change

A Season of Change

My (Not So Perfect) Past

February 22, 2019      mirandaehrich

I posted this blog on my last blog page I had a couple of years ago and felt like it was still relevant and important to talk about on here. I am completely transparent about my past in the hope that it will help others get the help they need and shed some light during a dark time. So here we go.

I was introduced to suicide and depression at a very young age. My 12-year-old cousin commit suicide when I was just in elementary school. Although I did not understand fully what had happened at the time, I realize now that incident opened a door to a lot questions that a little girl should not have been asking. I learned at a young age that this world is cruel and ugly, and that even the kindest people are brought down by the evils that surround us.

I started noticing a change in my behavior and moods in 6thgrade. Sure, maybe hormones played a part, but it was more than that. I’m going to let you all in on a secret that only one soul on this planet knows and even then, I highly doubt she even remembers this happening… At the end of 5thgrade I wrote a note to each of my family members saying goodbye. Telling them I was going heaven and that I would see them someday soon. One of my best friends at the time found the note where I was hiding it and said she was going to tell my parents. I quickly tore it up into a thousand pieces and made her swear on her life never to speak of that incident again. I made her believe that it was just a joke. When middle school came along, a lot of changes began to happen. I found myself day dreaming about running away and starting over somewhere. I had it all planned out. I also began day dreaming about how I would kill myself. At the time, I was not familiar with the effects of pills, so I thought about using a knife. I thought when, where, how and I thought about it often. Do you want to know what else was happening during this time? I was successful. Straight A’s in all my classes. I was on multiple basketball teams (club, select, school). I had an awesome friend group. I laughed and smiled often. On the outside life looked great. But guess what? I was still miserable. I DID NOT CHOOSE MENTAL ILLNESS. I did not choose any of this.

With no one to turn to, I just bottled up my feelings and emotions. I cried myself to sleep and in the morning, I asked God why he woke me up. I prayed and prayed for a way out of all my sadness, anger and worry. I hated everything about myself. The constant racing thoughts I had about everything wrong with myself and my life nearly consumed me somedays. I told myself though I would never look weak in front of my friends and family. I didn’t want to be that girl that looked “attention seeking” or “high maintenance.” I didn’t want to be a freak and not fit in with everyone. I just wanted to be and feel normal. So I lived as normal as I possibly could.

Then something happened that absolutely change my world. My sister attempted suicide when I was in 8thgrade. We are very lucky to still have her here with us today. Her attempt on her life sent me into a world wind of emotions. It was around 12:05am that my dad came into my room to tell me my sister was on her way to the hospital. It was also the first time that I have ever seen my dad cry. I spent the next hour screaming in a pillow and crying. I had no clue if my sister was even going to live. Want to know the last thing I said her? I told her to quit being a bitch. The last thing I said to my sister was something cruel and terrible. To add to my sadness, I now had guilt. When I finally got that phone call from my dad that my sister was stable, I was relieved. But my sadness soon turned to anger. Anger towards her ex-boyfriend. Anger towards her friends. Anger towards her. I could not believe that she was going to leave me on this Earth by myself. I needed her. And she knew that. The days after her attempt were the worst. Everyone pretended like nothing happened and everyone tip toed around each other’s feelings. It infuriated me even more. This was something that needed to be talked about and understood. Not ignored and brushed under the carpet. But everyone deals with conflict in a different way, is something I have learned over the years. 

My sisters suicide attempt taught me a few things. 1) I would NEVER attempt suicide. No matter how miserable I ever get or how bad things are, I will never do that because what she did nearly destroyed me. You never realize how big suicide impacts other people’s lives until it happens to someone close to you. 2) I was not the only one who was in so much pain. When you are suffering from depression, you feel so alone. Even if you are surrounded by all your friends and family, your mental illness tells you that you are alone in this world. I finally realized that other people were going through what I was too. 3) Life is so so so precious. We spend so much time holding onto bitter feelings and hate, that we often forget how short and precious life really is. I’m not saying it is easy to forgive and let go (trust me I have a lot of let going to still do), but this incident reminded me that I needed to tell people how I felt more often and to spread more love than hate. 4) I needed help. To admit you need help is one of the hardest things to do. Especially to someone like me who is a perfectionist and who everyone views as put together. To admit I need help is the equivalent of me saying I am not strong enough to fix my own problems. I so badly wanted to be able to “fix myself” that I ended up burying myself in a deeper hole.

My story from here gets a little better. My freshmen year of high school I had a teacher that was very open to talking about mental illness in class. He made us all feel comfortable enough to approach him if we were ever needing someone to talk to. I finally gathered up the courage one day to tell him I was having thoughts of suicide and he helped me get the help I needed. I was furious with him during the moment but I can look back now and be grateful for everything he did because he saved my life. I started going to a psychiatrist and a psychologist. My psychiatrist put me on a bunch of medication that turned me into a walking zombie. I now hate taking medication and am extremely reluctant to ever get put back on antidepressants because of the experience I had with them. But my therapist was able to help me get back on my feet again. 

 During this time, I also started dating a boy. A boy who changed my life. He was everything a girl wanted in the beginning. Sweet, kind, romantic. He would do anything for me, he stood up for me, and he taught me a better way to live. He brought light into my life that had been so dark for so long. But once the honeymoon stage ended, things took a turn for the worse. With each passing day, he became more and more abusive. Telling me I was nothing without him. Reminding me that there were so many other girls he could be with, so I better do as he says. He made me fear him and made me fear losing him. And then he did the most unforgivable act: he took my innocence. He took something I wanted to save for the man I was going to marry. Something I can never get back. I wasn’t ready and he knew that. But he selfishly did it anyways. And almost a decade later, I am still scarred and broken. He took a piece of me that I still have yet to get back. How does one talk about something like that? How does one “get over” something like that? How does one help her future boyfriends understand what she truly went through? If anyone has been in an abusive relationship before then you know how it continues to haunt you even after you buried it in the past. The amount of courage and strength it takes to leave someone like that is indescribable. I was terrified to stay with him and I was terrified to leave him. But one day I finally found the strength to walk away.

6 years. That is how long my first episode of depression lasted. 6 years. Now does this mean I was stuck in bed, crying every day for 6 years? No. I had good days, and shoot, I even had good weeks, sometimes months. But remember when I said I was high functioning? No one knew of my sadness and pain until I came out and spoke about it. Even then some people had a hard time believing me because I was so good at covering up my pain. 

You never know what a person is truly going through unless you ask. We have such a hard time asking each other what is going on in our minds. Why? Is it because we are too inpatient to hear what the person really has to say? It is because we just don’t care? Is it because we are scared of what their honest answer might be? Is it because we just don’t know how to talk to others about our mental health?

Honestly ask yourself right now, why does talking about suicide and depression scare you so much?Our society is at an all-time high right now of people with depression and anxiety. Suicide attempts are up. We ALL need to become more accepting and aware of what is happening around us. The stigma that surrounds mental illness is sickening. People rather kill themselves than tell someone that they are suicidal and get help, for the fear of how society is going to treat them. Do you know how hard it is for me to share all of this right now with the world? I am supposed to be the girl who has it all together, who is strong and stable, who always knows what to do and how to handle every situation. Well news flash: I’m not that girl. I am a girl who has been shut down and shut up by the rules of society. I have been told that I am the problem and that I need to fix this on my own. That I created the life I live and have to live with the consequences. I said it once earlier and I’ll say it again: I DID NOT CHOOSE TO HAVE A MENTAL ILLNESS. The Lord only knows how many times I have wished this away. To wake up one day and be “normal.”

If you are still reading this, I applaud you for sticking with me. There is much more I could tell you about my past, but that might be a conversation to have over coffee. My hope is that everyone that reads this takes a step back and asks themselves, how do I contribute to the stigma of mental illness? How can I help make mental health a topic that people are comfortable talking to me about? Maybe some of you need help yourselves. You can relate to what I am writing about and are searching for the courage to ask for help. Do not let your mental illness define you.Do not let it defeat you. Do not let it take control of your life. And if it has control of your life, fight. Fight for that happiness you dream about and hope for. Fight for a better future. Fight for yourself. “I need help.” Three small words that have a huge impact. First admit it to yourself, then admit it to a trusted friend, family member, coworker or whoever. NEVER end the fight though. Your life matters and your life has meaning. Even if you do not see it now. Your. Life. Has. Meaning. 

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Miranda Ehrich

Miranda Ehrich

"For what it's worth: It's never too late to be whoever you want to be.

I hope you live a life you're proud of, and if you find that you're not, I hope you have the strength to start over."

-F. Scott Fitzgerald

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Nothing compares to puppy snuggles. I don’t look Nothing compares to puppy snuggles. I don’t look forward to the day where you are too heavy to pick up and hug. Love this sweet boy so much. 💕

#goldendoodle #puppylove #pupstagram #puppylife #sweetestpup #cutie
I’ve learned life is truly precious. We think we I’ve learned life is truly precious. We think we are invincible and think we could never be the victim of a horrific accident like mine. There can be a healthy balance of living in the moment while being mindful of your future. Appreciate the small moments and I encourage everyone to be grateful for waking up today. We can have hard periods of our lives, depression, anxiety, or PTSD and still have small moments of happiness until we get through the storm. I am grateful to still be alive and am able to experience moments like this. Continue to stay strong 💕
I have a lot to say but honestly don’t know how I have a lot to say but honestly don’t know how to articulate everything I want to say into words. I am angry. I am sad. And I am so scared for the future of women. What has happened is devastating for many. 

Religion should not play a part in the lives of people who do not believe in that religion. Believe what you want, but for those of us who do not believe in your God, we should not be forced to abide by what your scripture says. 

As a rape victim myself, I can’t imagine what would have happened if I became pregnant by a man who didn’t put a condom on before violating a 15 year old. When I spoke to people at my church about it, I was shamed, I was ridiculed, I was shut down about being a victim. 

I hope significant reform will come after this. More help for the poor. Resources for kids in foster care. Daycare options. Sex education. Providing preventative measures. Hell even having formula on shelves to be able to feed these babies. 

Having a child is a privilege at this point. They cost a lot of money, take up a lot of time and are a huge investment mentally, emotionally, physically and financially. Not everyone has the life to manage a child, or even multiple. 

Even now as someone with a laundry list of health issues, getting pregnant would be harmful for myself, harmful for the baby. And yes I am doing everything in my power not to get pregnant, but guess what it still could happen. And many people can’t afford the measures I am using to prevent pregnancy. 

As a NICU nurse I have seen many horrors. I have seen babies suffering. Babies in pain. I have seen things nobody should see happen. But it’s fine right? It’s okay for them to suffer in pain for months on end until they die. It’s okay for them to go into foster care just to end back up in the ER for shaken baby syndrome. It’s okay for them to be discharged to families who cook meth in the house slowly killing them. For those of you who are pro-life, their life doesn’t stop after they are born. 

I know this post will upset many people but I’m truly hurting for women all over the country.
Reminding myself daily that I am enough just as I Reminding myself daily that I am enough just as I am. Broken parts and all; I am enough. ✨
I have had many people say my progress is a miracl I have had many people say my progress is a miracle.  I don’t really believe in miracles, but I will say my survival was a miracle. I don’t know why I survived this horrific accident, but I am glad I did. Not many people get a second opportunity to live when something like this happens and it’s something I try to be mindful about. 

But my progress? It’s not a miracle. It’s this. It’s me working my ass off every single day. Doing sometimes multiple workouts in a day. Fighting through the daily pain I am in. Fighting through the depression. Pushing myself to do the things I don’t want to do. Reminding myself I am the only one who can get me back on my feet again. 

My body is not the same anymore and I have had to modify a lot of what I do. Learn how to do workouts differently and adjust my mindset to that it’s okay I can’t do the things I could do a year ago. It gives me a goal to work towards and motivates me to push play everyday on a workout video. 

Every time I see my surgeon I always thank him for the marvelous work he did putting me back together, that I wouldn’t be where I am today without him. And he said to me, “I did the easy part, putting you back together, but that’s all I did. Where you are today, the progress you have made, is all because of you. You’ve put the time and effort in and your success right now is because of you.” 

This was something I honestly needed to hear. With all this time I’ve spent hating myself, I never once took the second to appreciate how hard I’ve been working to get back to a normal life. This accident, this trauma, this pain will be with me for the rest of my life. I’ve accepted this but I will also do everything in my damn power to get off of rock bottom. Sure I wallow in self pity a lot, I spend many days crying, my anxiety is always through the roof, and this has robbed me of a lot of happiness and opportunities, but I will not let it rob me of the rest of my life. 

Anyways this is just a little appreciation post for myself and a reminder that sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do to survive. It’s our low moments that make us appreciate the good times even more. 💕
So happy to be well enough to actually make it to So happy to be well enough to actually make it to another festival. I cried A LOT 🥲 but boy was this exactly what I needed. 

I love you guys so much and thanks for such an amazing weekend. 💕 

And now to soak in epsom salt all week so me legs are less mad at me. Lolol
It’s been an emotionally exhausting and rough we It’s been an emotionally exhausting and rough week but I am seriously SO happy to be here. Last night was incredible (although I am HURTIN today) and I can’t wait to see what these next 2 nights have in store. 

I also solemnly swear not to walk in front of car this time around. 🤪
Just a fresh cut to make me feel a little normal a Just a fresh cut to make me feel a little normal again. 

Thank you @allisonmrough for always making me feel pretty. 💕
6 months ago, I almost died in this very spot. It’s crazy to me it has been half a year since this has happened. This is a huge milestone, but also is hard to think about since I am still having some issues. Issues I might continue having for the rest of my life. Issues that could end up being a permeant disability. Issues that could mean I will be in pain every day for the rest of my life. And the PTSD is real y’all. Numbingly real. 

A split second is all it took to change the trajectory of my life forever. A split second to rip the rug out from underneath me. A split second and all the plans for my future are gone. I actually landed right in front of my apartment complex where I was going home to take care of Luna. I was so close to being home.

I have grown a lot from this experience. I have learned so much about myself. I have fought for myself. I have cried. I have lost hope. I have pushed myself through pain, sweat, blood and tears. 

But I survived. I. Survived. I wake up every single day and sometimes have to remind myself I almost died. I almost had my leg amputated. I almost had the possibility of being unresponsive due to my brain injury. I almost ended up with a colostomy. I almost lost organs. I almost ended up with a stent in my carotid. But I fought and I survived. I have to remind myself that yes things are very difficult right now, the PTSD is unbearable at times, but there could have been one of those alternatives that would have made life even more difficult. I could have even died.

Life is precious y’all. Just because you wake up today, doesn’t mean you’ll wake up tomorrow. You might not get that chance to take that trip, tell that person you love them, move across the country, start your dream career. Life. Is. Precious.

My battles continue every day but my scars, my pain, my sadness all remind me I am stronger because of what I’ve gone through. I have a story to tell others. I have a story to tell myself. 

I am strong. I am worthy. I am capable. I am determined to find my way back to happiness again.
The thing that most people don’t understand abou The thing that most people don’t understand about people who have lived through something traumatic, is the silent battles they face everyday. I am happy to share my physical progress and I am happy to have come this far, but the reality? I’m just so tired. The daily struggles with pain, the PTSD, the anxiety, the depression, the nightmares, the sleepless nights, the hopelessness, the resentment, the financial burden- it’s a lot. Most people don’t see this part of my recovery and journey either. 

The process of accepting my new reality is very much a struggle. Coming to terms with the pain, with the way my body looks, with the new extreme fatigue, with what overall happened to me is a slow journey. My life will never ever look the same and some of things I wanted for my life will never be able to happen. These are things I have to accept to move forward. The trauma becomes part of who I am, whether I want it to or not. I went through this exact same grieving process when I was diagnosed with MS so at least I have some experience, but having a near death experience sure does shake things up in one’s life. 

I’ve gotten better at being present in the moment and trying to find small moments of happiness. It’s not a lot but it’s a start. I am looking forward to the day when my life starts to feel okay again and for now we’ll keep slowly moving forward. 🖤

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