Grandma Turck's Candle

After my grandma’s passing in May of 2011, my family had a rough time dealing with her being gone. We spent months thinking of her and spontaneously crying. Most of the time, my mom did her crying while she was washing the dishes. I cried while trying to fall asleep. My cousin would drive to her apartment and sit in her car and cry. We all dealt with it in different ways, and often tried to do it privately. I never wanted anyone to try to comfort me, which is why I waited until bedtime most of the time to let it all out. I just wanted to cry and miss her. That was all. Even on the day she died, I didn’t want anyone touching me. My dad sat by me the day she passed and kept rubbing my back. I eventually jerked away. He didn’t touch me again.

After about 6 months or so, the church out where my grandma lived was giving a memorial mass for all those who had passed away that year. For each person, a candle was lit, and someone from each family would carry it up to the table in front of the alter and set it down when the name was called. It was a difficult mass to get through. My youngest cousin cried and had to leave for a few minutes. Then it was the next cousin. And then, even though I fought it, I let a tear or two slip down my cheek. I had to remind myself to take deep breaths and to not think about what was going on. 

After the memorial mass, my aunt told my mom she could keep my grandma’s candle. So we went out to lunch with the family and then brought the candle home. My mom would light it during any event my grandma would have come to, and we even took it to my aunt’s house for Christmas. Wherever family was, so was the ever-present “Lillian Turck” candle. For some reason, this candle became extremely important. In a way, it took the place of Grandma, and if any of us were to forget to light it or bring it with us, it was almost as bad as leaving Grandma at home by herself.

I never saw this candle as much of an importance as the rest of my family did at first. To me, it was just a candle with my grandma’s name on it. A candle that was eventually going to run out of wax… and eventually, we would not be able to light it anymore. We wouldn’t have anything to keep Grandma alive and well, and I did not want to idolize this candle to be such an important part of our lives. In a sense, I felt like the candle dying would be like Grandma dying all over again. I just couldn’t bear the thought of losing her twice. 

Weeks passed, and then suddenly it was halfway through my Christmas break. Time was flying by, and I felt like I had squandered a lot of it feeling depressed and forgotten. So I finally decided that it was time to keep myself busy and preoccupied again, just like I do any time I get depressed. It wasn’t until around the third week of break that I decided that I wanted to paint. At the time, my sleeping schedule was extremely messed up. So I was up during the hours my family was in bed snoozing away. It wasn’t until one fourth of the way through my painting that I began to think of the candle. I was so lonely, and it was so quiet. I began craving attention, and although I tried to focus on painting, the candle stayed clear in my mind. So finally, after much attempted ignorance, I walked over to the small coffee table and took her candle off if it, carrying it over to the dining room table where my paints were set up. I struck a match and lit it, setting it away from my paints so that I would not accidentally knock it over and start this huge bonfire, because that’s just something I would naturally do. I’m like a child. You have to keep certain things away from me. Haha. 

As silly as it may sound, the lit candle made me feel less alone. I would glance up at it every now and then and watch the flame calmly burn, as if saying, “Yes, I’m still here.” I would then return to my painting, and I just felt like Grandma was sitting in the room with me, watching me paint this picture. I definitely felt this very calming feeling wash over me, and the loneliness that I had been suffering from went away. 

I sit here now, thinking back to that night of relief, and wonder, How on Earth could that lit candle have made me feel so much better? Certainly this material item held no important value. It was just a candle with a simple sticker on it. A name. A sequence of letters that spelled out my deceased relative. So why was this flame so relevant to my way out of loneliness? But you know, maybe it’s not the candle that is relevant. Maybe it’s what it stands for. My grandma held a light to my passions for many years, whether I wanted to be a ballerina, artist, or writer. My ballerina phase ended shortly after my grandpa had passed, and then my artist phase started up. In seventh grade, it was writing, and since then, I have never looked back. And not only did she hold a light to what I wanted to do, but she was also very calm in her old age. She always did a good job of listening to me and thinking about what to say next, and I could always tell how every word I spoke to her was accounted for, no matter what it was that we were talking about. She took her time, and she had a lot of patience, just as the wax takes a lot of time to melt. It makes me think twice about this candle and its huge role in our family. 

I’m now beginning to think that maybe the candle is just a measure of healing time for all of us. It’s measuring our time that we have to go on without Grandma Turck, and then maybe when it burns all the way down, by the time the wax is gone, we won’t need the candle anymore. By that time, maybe we will finally be able to stop crying and realize that our memories serve both us and Grandma just as well as the candle did. I’m coming to find that the candle is not really a “replacement”, and it doesn’t represent another lifetime. It represents the time in which it will take our hearts to heal from our loss, and then someday, we will be able to move on.

Don’t get me wrong, I will never forget my grandma. I think about her every single day. And sometimes I still do cry because I miss her. Even this morning, I woke up crying because I had a dream that it had been the first year without her, and I wiped the tears away from my cheeks and went on with my day. But it has gotten better, and I am able to smile when I see all that has been laid out for me because of her. When I feel alone, I just remember that my grandma is still here to listen in spirit, and it makes the emotional pain of loss easier to deal with. I do believe that I’ll see her again someday, but until then, I need to carry on. I want to share my loving nature with the world, and I want to set the footsteps that my grandma could not make while she was here. She passed down a wonderful mind and an overwhelming love for the written word, and I think that of all things she left behind, that love is the best heirloom of all.

Someday the candle will stop burning. But my passion to change the world will not. Thank you, Grandma, for everything.

Stephanie Michelle Pabst

I don't like religion too much.

Tonight as I was sitting in the recliner watching The Fresh Prince, my mom decided to ask me whether I would be able to wake up for church or not tomorrow (Sunday) morning. Now, I found this to be a foolish question considering she's going to make me go anyway. But my reply, I felt, could be my own opinion, even if my opinion did not matter come 8:30 a.m. So I told her, "Maybe." This seemed like a legitimate answer considering it was a "maybe" on whether she would be able to crawl out of bed or not. That's the reason why we didn't go last Sunday. She had a migraine (if I remember correctly) and we ended up skipping church.
The more I go to church, the more I despise it. It's not something I look forward to, it's nothing new, and the people there are just horrible. I feel like I'm walking into a masquerade party minus the ball gowns and plus plus the vagueness of who I am talking to. I often wonder who the church-goers really are outside of church, just as one would question who Cinderella really is when she's not tidied up and dancing with the handsome prince. Many of these people from my parish don't even pay the slightest attention to me when they see me or any of my family members out in public. Out in public, we don't exist to them because they aren't in church being judged by other goody-goods who are probably ignoring other so-called "goody-goods" outside of the building as well. The church is supposed to be God's "house" where we gather to learn and to empathize and care for each other, and yet, when we leave this place, many do the exact opposite. It's as though a group of people who absolutely despise each other are being invited to the same dinner party and must be nice to each other for the host's sake. Once that dinner party is over, who cares who hates who? But here's my take on things. Even if you aren't in church anymore, God is still watching every little thing you do. God is still judging you, ultimately, for the hurtful things you are doing to those who don't deserve it.

Now, back to religion. I used to be a Catholic. That's what I've considered myself to be my entire life because that's what my parents said I was. And when we get older, it can be hard to break that mold. But as I continued to go, I began to question why I was even going. What did we truly believe in? What was being preached? And out of that preaching, how many of us were really practicing it? Then I began to think about confession. Why did I go confess my sins to a priest? What made this priest so great? Why did he have to be the bridge to asking my God for forgiveness? Heck, any guy can go into the seminary and become a priest (granted they become knowledgeable about what they need to know). So why does the priest get to know the bad things that I've done? And then I began to wonder what the use was of being at church anyway. The only use I ever get out of it is when the priest preaches for a good ten to fifteen minutes because the sermon is always something new. The readings are repetitive and the songs are always being re-used. And what if the priest doesn't even practice his teachings outside of God's "house"?

I'm currently forgetting about my past religion and focusing on what I know is right and just. Going to church each week is becoming difficult to tolerate, and as much as I hate going, I only do it because my mom wants me to. It's important to her, and I think she only likes it because it's sort of like a family time for us. One of my friends told me that my mom is worried I won't go to church anymore once I move out, and she is absolutely right. I'm not going to go because I don't find a need for it at this point in my life. Now, I believe in God, and I believe in Jesus Christ. I know God is with me every step of the way, even when I don't think things will get better. In fact, when I get that down, He is my only hope, and he's also the #1 dude I can depend on. God hasn't failed yet, and he hasn't bailed on me yet, even though I've completely decided that Catholicism was hypocritical. I meditate. I appreciate the nature around me. I work hard. I love a hell of a lot. And I think that's the only thing God really wants. He didn't create this earth for me to waste my life on. When he created humans, he wanted us to enjoy the beauty of this planet.

Now, you may ask me how I can believe in this almighty God when there are people on the streets who can't even afford to eat. People are always asking, "If God exists, why are there homeless people? Why are others starving?" Well, I've got an answer for you. Humans. When God created us, He gave us free will. What kind of life would this be if He controlled all of us? He wants us to have free will so we can practice being kind to each other without being forced to do it. If we were forced, how is it kindness, really? Anyway, with this free will that we have, we've created these corporations and the technology and our economy. We've decided that money is the way things would be bought, and we've decided how to organize that money. I must say, we're doing a pretty shitty job. And that's why we have the homeless and the rich and the middle class. We cause this to happen to ourselves with little or no awareness that we are even doing it, and then there are idiotic morons asking, "Well where is this so-called God that you speak of?" I'm not sure, dumbshit. Maybe He's off crying in a corner somewhere because we're destroying this planet of His that He created for us to live on. And don't ask me why He would have given us the resources to create our technology if He didn't want us to use it. I'm sure the resources found on our planet could be used for far better reasons than what we've decided they could be used for.

Now, from an atheist's point of view, I can understand why they wouldn't believe in a God. People can be very hurtful and selfish. It is sad that others are living in poverty. And it is difficult to picture a life after death, even for those who believe. I think that sometimes when we think about dying, this heavenly place we hear of can be extremely vague and out one's right mind. I've even imagined what it would be like to die and to have nowhere to go afterward. It's a very scary concept to imagine, and I've often wondered if dying is like falling asleep and never waking up. You know how that is, right? Where you sleep and all you can see throughout the entire night is black, and you wake up the next morning and say, "I must have fallen asleep." Well, I've imagined that's what death is like quite a few times. Maybe we're just  blissfully unaware, and that's our heaven. Just being... gone. But I also recognize that there must be something higher than us that had to have put us here, and that keeps me hoping and praying that there is such a place of happiness waiting for me.

I guess my point in this blog is that you don't have to be a part of a religion to be a good person. You don't have to go to church every Sunday to believe that you still have a chance to move on after you die. Religion is just constraints put on what the possibilities of the afterlife are, and it's constraints on what you can and can't do, should and shouldn't do, and how you can and can't act. But isn't the whole point of being human to make mistakes and to have an all-forgiving God to forgive you of those temptations and acts of wrongdoing? I mean, we wouldn't have religion if we didn't have reasons to feel guilty for the ways we act and speak and think and perceive. If the world were perfect, and we were perfect, what would God's purpose be?

I only enjoy going to church when I feel like a part of my faith is slowing down or when it feels broken. When I need someone to listen and I need to hear words of encouragement, I enjoy my time spent. I hate how church, for me, has become a routine that I do not enjoy and that I feel like I have to get up and struggle to do each Sunday. I experienced that in high school, where I would get up and not want to go because I was just there too much. When you do something so repetitive for so long, you're going to get burnt out. And that's me right now. I don't feel lost or broken. I feel like myself. I feel fine. I know God is with me. I have my morals and values in place. So why is my attendance at some building that the community decided to build so important? Why is it that we feel we all need to be on common ground in order to give our attention to God? I'd rather pray to God with a room full of Jews, Baptists, Protestants, Mormons, and all of those other religions than to be doing it with "my own kind". I can't stand close-minded people, and I highly believe that we can learn more from people 100% different than us than learning more from someone 100% the same as us. It took me all sorts of tolerance and open-minded listening to be where I am right now and to think as I am thinking right now, and most importantly, to love as I am loving right now. Without meeting others who were worlds apart from me, I could be an entirely different person, and it drives me crazy to think that! I love who I am right now, and I don't need a religion to do that!

So, for those of you who are feeling lost about your beliefs, just listen to me when I say to you that you don't need to be labeled by a religion to be a good person. You just need to have faith and to practice what you know is the right thing to do. Apologize when you need to. Love yourself and others when no one else will. Be the one to toss a smile and hold a door open. I promise you that if you stay true to who you are, God is still going to love you, whether you have a name slapped onto your beliefs or not.

If I offended anyone in this blog at all, I am truly sorry for my opinionated mind. Maybe you'll like my next blog better.

xoxo

Psi Vamps are real?!

Hey guys! I apologize for the lack of blogging lately. I guess nothing really came to mind for me to type about. Of course, being me, not too much excitement goes on. Sure, I could post my thoughts every day, but who wants to open that can of worms? ...I say that jokingly. Haha.

For most of my readers who grab this link off of Facebook, you know that I am empathic. And if you don't know what that is, go to my FB profile and click on info, scroll down to the about me, and click the link I provided. It explains it all there. Anyway, being who I am, I am always learning about the complications of being more sensitive than other people. Sure, empathy is hardwired into each and every one of us, but with me being extra sensitive, there are certain precautions and steps that I must take in order to handle it. However, I was unaware that empaths have predators, and it almost went against me last Friday at the mall.

My three girlfriends and I decided that we needed to have a girls day together, so we planned the mall and dinner. Normally when I go out, the energy is pretty neutral and I don't pick up on it much. I would have to focus on one individual if I really wanted to get any sort of emotion through to me, and it's very rare that I get people who are appealing. For instance, I was drawn to three different people in high school (not going to name names) that had very good energy, so naturally I liked to be near them when I could. Same goes for college, only it was one person. It's usually guys who I get that attraction towards, and it's never intentional. It's just what it is. Anyway, we were all walking around for awhile, and things felt as neutral as ever. Then somewhere along the line someone mentioned lunch, so we all headed to the food court. Two of my friends went one direction, my other friend and I in the other. She stopped by DQ to get her chili dog and then came with me to Sbarros. That's the downfall for me. I hate being by myself when I go places, because I think that along with anxiety that runs in our family, if there isn't a form of energy nearby that I'm accustomed to and comfortable around, the energies around me are too much to handle. So I went to get my pizza, and as my friend and I made our way back to the table we had spotted earlier, I noticed another table nearby that was taken by three guys. The energy levels rose to a shocking degree, and I found myself becoming instantly nervous and hesitant, as well as drawn in and tempted. Therefore, I tried to choose a table that was a safe distance away that could seat four, but the safest one had something smeared on the table, and I'm one of those germaphobes. So I instantly decided against that. I didn't want to take anymore time searching for another table in fear that I would look like an idiot overlooking a clean, open table near the dirty one. So I had no choice but to choose the table that was about a yard and a half away from where the three guys sat. As we sat at the table, I glanced over at the full one and made eye contact with the guy facing me. That was where I made my mistake. He looked like he could be punk, a sort of on-the-edge, lets-have-fun kind of guy, and I found myself instantly distracted by his presence. I looked back to my friend, and the other two of our friends returned to the table we had chosen. I began trying to concentrate on my food and on the conversation at hand, but I could feel his eyes burning into my skin. No, not literally burning. But there was that intense feeling that he was watching me. My mind became scattered, and my nerves were on edge. I glanced over at him once more, and we again made eye contact. Danger, my mind said. Danger. Danger. But there was an unbearable temptation to get up and talk to him, to sit next to him and feel the energy take full control. I again struggled to concentrate on the conversation at hand, but my mind was reverting back to thoughts of the guy sitting across from me. I had never felt such a terrible urge to give in before, to walk over to him, just to be near him. Something about my empathy liked the rush, but I was smart enough to tell myself no, and my self-control was too powerful for my urge to overcome. However, it was difficult for me to think straight, and I again found myself making eye contact with him. Why was this so hard?

Finally, him and his friends left the food court, and shockingly, I realized that the food court was full of other people. It was almost like one of those moments where time around you stops dead in its tracks, and it feels like the only things moving are you and that person that you have full focus on. As I took a good look around, I could see the average "I have to work and I'm so bummed out" looks, and I could also see the casual, "Yes, we're a couple, just chit-chatting" looks. I wanted to get up and shout, "You didn't feel that?!" It reminded me of Freaky Friday, when the mom and daughter feel the earthquake, but no one else does. I realized it was my empathy that had made this strong connection, and later that night, I posted about it on Empath Community, which I consider my safe haven. Not too long after my post of what happened, I had a response from one of the users telling me to send her a message, so I added her as a friend and shot her a message about my forum post. She replied with, of course, new information. When I read the word "vampire", I was turned off.

However, I kept on reading, thinking, "This is going to be ridiculous. She's some crazy person." But the more I read, the more perplexed I was. The message is as follows:

"So basically your description basically reminds me of an energy vampire I actually used to see in my classes last semester.
How that guy messed up your concentration was actually on purpose because when we're not focused, it presents a vulnerability, leaving ourselves exposed. If you had your shield up at the mall, you may have forgotten about it and completely got rid of it while not focused. Considering that guy most likely was a psi vamp, he wanted to distract you to "borrow" your energy by making you scatter-brained.
By the way, empathic energy is far stronger and more appealing for psi vamps compared to the average person. Based on that, I assume your friend Jes isn't as strong as you, making you the target.
Once the guy left the table, you felt more calm and returned to your senses because psi vamps create confusion, nerve-wracking emotions and if they're more powerful ones, it's worse; we're talking the stronger ones can basically control people's minds...yeah you don't want to be in that position. A helpful tip is to NOT stare into their eyes, look at their shoulder or anywhere else except the eyes. It really bothers them if you avoid eye contact. Doing the latter allows you to retain your focus and lets you disconnect from psi vamps quicker.
I thought it was cute when you said:
"But his energy was really messing with my concentration, and I kept feeling a sense of danger mixed with a curiosity and temptation to sit next to him and talk to him."
A lot of us empaths feel that way in several situations so some people such as this guy use it to their advantage to attract empaths and people in general(they also happen to be physically attractive almost all the time, making it harder to resist getting closer). Their natural attraction is ridiculously strong and if not trained properly, it's more difficult to avoid it. Think of being pulled by a black hole or strong gravitational field.
Judging by how much time you and your friend were near that guy (a few minutes according to you), he probably did not have enough time to get what he wanted.
My advice to you is to becareful when you go to public and crowded places because you honestly don't know who you will come across. I believe if you were focused and had a shield up during the encounter, you may have not felt the guy as intensely as you did. Making your shield stronger in public areas wouldn't be a bad idea either.
~~~~~
It just happens that this guy at the mall is a psi vamp feeding at the people there, but not every stranger you come across is a psi vamp. So then what are they? Answer is, I'm not completely sure...but since these strangers are usually males for you, it's probably some part of you trying to tell you, "Oh I admire that guy's personality or physical chracteristics etc." and that your hand-picking what would be an ideal friend/boyfriend (you may favor certain types of energies over others). Do you notice a common trend among the stranger's you're attracted to? If so, then the above probably explains it."

I proceeded to message her back (I'll only include the psi vamp portion): "Wow!! I had no idea that there were such things as psi vamps... are there any other types of people such as this that I need to be aware of so that I can better prepare myself? This guy at the mall, it was just crazy because he was very intense. I think my first mistake was making eye contact, because after that, it was hard to focus on anything. And like I said, when I wasn't looking at him, it was like I could feel his eyes burning into my skin. I would be part of my groups conversation for mere seconds before my mind diverted itself back to being aware of the energy I was feeling. When I talked to Jes about it, she said she felt more of an attraction than anything, but my brain was saying "danger" for some reason. He could have very well been a psi vamp for all I know. It's just shocking, that concept. I've never run into anyone who *seemingly* purposely burned their attention into my mind. After they left, I looked around me and took a good look at who was in the food court. Everyone there looked bored or were in normal conversations, and I almost felt like saying to everyone, "You didn't feel that?" *thinks of Freaky Friday and laughs*."

She then said: "His eyes burning seeming as if they burned into your skin is a typical occurance in run-ins with ev's (energy vampires). Average people, if they're targeted or even if they're HSPs or slightly weaker empaths will feel the attraction regardless. You alternating between your group conversation and glancing at the guy seems to lean towards the hypnotic side. But overall you were mezmerized by him. Burning attention into a person's mind is so that ev can infiltrate your mind and mess with it. I've been there and let me tell you it is not fun whatsoever. The annoyance of having their image in your mind is an even bigger distraction for the same purpose. Ev's are manipulative in the mental sense which makes them dangerous when planning psi attacks or just finding a way for you to give them energy. The concept can be shocking at first but I mean if there are healers, there would naturally be those that steal energy and damage others. Speaking of damage, if you let an ev drain you too much, it can cause lightheadedness, fainting, weakness and nausea. I'm not trying to scare you but it's better to be aware of that before it all goes down. As for the others in the cafeteria they wouldn't feel it because ev's tend to focus on an individual, more so the strongest one out of a nearby group of people."

I then replied: "I do have another question. Are psi vamps basically the predators in the empath world? And exactly how harmful and dangerous can they be? Also, are they aware of being psi vamps? I mean, obviously all of us know we are empaths, but we have had to depend our gut and self-discovery and urge to seek knowledge in order to figure it out. Psi vamps must go through the same process, right? I'm picturing these psi vamps as mosquitoes in my mind."

Her final response was, "Yep. Psi vamps are in fact predators that prey not only on empaths if they find them but normal people as well. They can range anywhere from a 1 to a 10 but it depends how strong you are as an empath. The stronger, the more attention you attract from psi vamps. Psi vamps can be anywhere between a small nusiance to a difficult emtional and physical struggle for an empath.
And yes, psi vamps sometimes are not even aware they're psi vamps but some know they are without a doubt. I suppose when they realize they are psi vamps, they begin expanding on the existing knowledge about their kind. Sometimes there are cases where even normal people can drain empaths unconsciously but that doesn't always make them a psi vamp. In addition, some follow rules like empaths by feeding off a donor giving his/her consent while some are called rogue psi vamps because they break the rules and follow no one else's but their own."

I figured that copying and pasting the conversation would be easier than me trying to explain all of this, because it is new info to me. But I realize now that there is a lot more to learn by being what I am, and I even went so far as to research psi vamps and had found a forum on the internet for them. I felt like I was in danger just by being on the website. I do need to practice my shielding (which is shielding myself from outside sources of energy) in order to avoid something like this from happening.

I know that there are a lot of skeptics out there who don't believe in this stuff. But it's a very real reality for me, and I don't want to suppress it in fear of getting myself into trouble and hurting my emotions. So don't try to convince me that this is all in my head, because I won't believe you.

You do have the option to comment on this blog post, but if you do, please comment in a nice manner. I'm always here to try to answer questions, and if there's not something I can answer for you, I can always ask the community. Thanks!

Even though I tear myself down, I always know I can build myself up again.

Well, here I sit, trying to figure out what exactly it is that I want to say. Ever since junior year, my teacher has taught me that the most beautiful thing about writing is the honesty that's put into what you say. And so, I'm going to be completely honest tonight. I think it's important, and maybe it can help someone else like me.

As a lot of you know from reading my blogs or by just being around lately (which is doubtful), I haven't been all that happy. Yes, I have been okay enough to wear a smile and laugh and all. But the past week has been really difficult for me. I didn't know why at first. I thought I was tired one night and went to lay down, but I ended up staring at the ceiling with my eyes wide open. Ever since that night, I've been staying up nights and sleeping during days, and the more I've been doing that, the more I've been crying myself to sleep or just crying in general. It just hit me the other night why I was feeling so down and why my brain was being so loud. My best friend, Shane, went to Cali to see his dad. And without having him around, I began to realize just how lonely I was. There was no one calling me to see how my day was. There were no stories to listen to. He couldn't be there to hang out with me and make me feel like my normal, sane self. With each passing day, the truth became harder to swallow, and my chest hurt more and more. My thoughts began attacking me at night as the loneliness settled in, and I began to realize that the people who mattered most to me and whom I had shared some of my best memories with just weren't around anymore. They didn't come by to say hi. They didn't call or text me. And it was just abnormal. I also felt like some of those friends were keeping secrets from me, and that they weren't being honest. But mostly, the friends that stopped coming around were the friends that were at my house every other day and every weekend hanging out with me. But they're just not around now. And it really hurts.

I think Monday was when it really started getting to me. I had stayed up the previous night and was running on very little sleep. The little sleep I did get didn't add up to too much. So by the time I got up, it was 3:30 in the afternoon. Shane had told me the day before that he was coming over, but when I checked my phone, I had no texts or calls. I texted and called him but he didn't answer, and after a few hours he finally texted me and said he couldn't come over because he had to get his hair cut and had been at the mall. He asked if I was mad and I said no. But really, I think that because I was feeling so down Monday, him saying he wasn't coming by just added to the depression. So I didn't text him after that. I just wanted to go to bed and forget that I had ever woken up that day. My aunt was at my house though, so I couldn't. I had to stay up and eat and hang out, and when she left, I went to my neighbor's house with my mom to see her relatives. It was then that Shane texted me and said he was coming over Tuesday, and that he didn't want me to think he didn't want to see me and that he wasn't like my other friends who didn't wanna come over. So I felt better and fell asleep at midnight. But at four in the morning, my brain woke me up. So I got on Tumblr and reblogged a bunch of things, and then I tried to go to bed at six. But like most nights, my thoughts attacked me again and I began crying. After I got done with my tear fest, I fell asleep. It took two hours, but I did it.

Shane called at twelve yesterday afternoon and I got up and answered. He said he was on his way, and I was like "What time is it?" He said noon and I was like, "Oh my God," to which he replied, "Don't worry. I didn't shower either." Now, I just had to take the time to appreciate this comment to something that I had not even brought up in the conversation. He just casually threw it in there, like he meant to say, It's okay if you look like a hobo. It was my fault that I didn't tell you I was coming over beforehand and I'm totally fine with you having bed head and looking like crap. So, after a little internal laughter, he said that he was almost to my house, so I hung up and ran upstairs. He wasn't kidding. About a minute after I had made it up, the doorbell rang, and he walked inside with a smile and hugged me. We spent two and a half hours talking and laughing like we normally do, and sadly, we had to take him home at 2:30. After dropping him off, I began to talk to my mom about picking my friends up on Friday so we could have a girls day. She then began to talk about how she didn't want to drive out that far and that she was tired of always picking my friends up. I probably took it more personally than I should have, and the little happiness that I had, shattered. So I came home and went back to sleep. I had not eaten that day, and I was hungry, but I was so miserable that I didn't care. I cried myself to sleep again, this time crying more than I had that past week, and by the time I woke up, it was nearly five thirty. I got up to go upstairs and realized how weak I felt. I was dizzy and had stumbled around for a minute before catching my balance again, and the pain of the emptiness ripped through my stomach. I went upstairs and tried to eat food from every food group. Eggs. Shrimp. Cheese. Milk. Soup. A pb&j. By the time I finished those items, I was full. I came back downstairs and got online, and then began thinking about what I had just done to myself. I had deprived my body of food because I let my feelings take over. I let the loneliness eat me inside, and I suddenly realized what anorexia felt like. Ladies and gents, it hurts. And with my diabetes, starving myself was not a good thing to do.

I got into the shower around eight and began to really think to myself, because all thoughts involving the meaning of life either arise whilst in the shower, or on the toilet. As I let the hot water run down my back, I thought to myself, When have I ever given up? Why am I letting someone else control my well-being? And why in the hell am I depriving my body of its necessities? Depriving myself won't make me happy. I know that it won't because I've dealt with this before. What's wrong with me? So, after I got out of the shower, I did dishes and baked brownies, and now I'm sitting here realizing that life is going to go on whether I want it to or not. I always preach about how society can't have me, and here I am, letting society take its grip on me. I can't be the one to not practice what I believe in, because I have people who need me and who look up to me. If I let myself fall apart like this, and I let people see me fall apart like I let myself do, who are they going to believe in? And what will I stand for if I just decide to curl up and be miserable?

So, yes, I do have depression. It runs in my family. Will I take meds for it? No. I will beat it on my own. I need to keep myself busy with things that matter the most to me, and I need to accept the fact that I am going to start losing things that I'm used to having around. That's life. The good Lord giveth, and the good Lord taketh away. But it's not out of cruelty that these things go away. I think that people in our lives walk out of them because new people have to come in and give us a new chapter to start. It doesn't mean we can't learn something from the ones who are just too busy for us anymore. And it certainly doesn't mean to give up on everything completely. It just means that we have to grow used to change. If we don't, we will fall apart.

My "wife" Dani told me tonight that if we didn't have sadness, we wouldn't know what happiness is. And she's right. I recognize my emotional states because I've experienced them before. I've had depression this bad. And I've beaten it twice because I wouldn't let myself go down. This is just another battle for me, and I don't think it's bad to let yourself be unhappy and depressed sometimes. I hear so many people tell me, "Don't be sad! Be happy!" Why can't I feel sad? Why can't I be harsh to myself sometimes? What's wrong with having self-pity every now and then? Isn't that a healthy way to be? Both happy and sad? We tell people not to be down, but sometimes that's really all you can be, because things have to get worse before they can get better.

I'm still deeply depressed inside. But tonight, I feel like I'll be able to sleep easier. I feel like I've let myself hit rock bottom as far as being depressed goes, and like they say in the movie Bridesmaids, "Hitting bottom is a good thing, because there's nowhere to go but up." I'm beginning to climb back out of that emotionally depressed hole I dug for myself, and there's really no other choice for me, because I have to inspire this world. I can't do that if I don't let myself see the light in my life, and there's plenty of it. I'm just choosing to hide away.

Shane is here for me. Kristin is here for me. Dani is here for me. Katie is here for me. Emily is here for me. Kelly is here for me. Kellie is here for me. Taelor is here for me. And I know there are a lot of other people who are.

The one thing I've come to learn about myself is this: Even though I tear myself down, I always know I can build myself up again. There's always someone there worth doing it for, and as long as I know I can change the world, that's enough to motivate me to not give up.

There's only one Stephanie Michelle Pabst, and she has a job to do.