Month: June 2017

Worth Living Official DJ Scratchley Q

Happy Canada 150! Canada has so much to celebrate! Why not celebrate with some of Canada’s amazing musical talent. The list of Canadian musicians is long but here are just 50 artists/ songs that truly represent Canada! Enjoy EH! -DJ Scratchley Q

50. Western Skies – Blue Rodeo

49. The Canadian Dream – Sam Roberts Band

48. Home for a Rest- Spirit of the West

47. NorthWest Passage- Stan Rogers

46. I’m Like A Bird- Nelly Furtado

45. You Could Have Been a Lady- April Wine

44. Highway of Heroes- Trews

43. Working Man- Rita MacNeil

42. Sweet City Woman- Stampeders

41. Put Your Head On My Shoulder- Paul Anka

40. I Don’t Know- Sheepdogs

39. Heart Of Gold- Neil Young

38. If I Had A Million Dollars- Barenaked Ladies

37. The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald- Gordon Lightfoot

36. If A Tree Falls- Bruce Cockburn

35. Life Is A Highway- Tom Cochrane

34. You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet- Bachman Turner Overdrive

33. You Oughta Know- Alanis Morissette

32. We’re Here For A Good Time- Trooper

31. Tom Sawyer- Rush

30. Love YourSelf- Justin Bieber

29. Secrets- The Weeknd

28.4 3 2 1-  K-os

27. Take A Minute- K’naan

26. Who Do You Love- Marianas Trench

25. Innocent- Our Lady Peace

24. Run Away With Me- Carly Rae Jepsen

23. O Canada- Classified

22. Hallelujah- Leonard Cohen

21. Started From The Bottom- Drake

20. Believe In You-  Michael Buble

19. Bungalow- Scott Helman

18. Good Mother- Jann Arden

17. Mercy- Shawn Mendes

16. Running- Jully Black

15. You Can’t Let Go- Crystal Shawanda

14. Ho wFar I’ll Go- Alessia Cara

13. You Got To Run- Buffy Sainte- Marie

12. Comin’ Home- City In Colour

11. C Jam Blues- Oscar Peterson

10. That Don’t Impress Me Much- Shania Twain

9. The Power of Love- Celine Dion

8.Northern Touch- Rascalz

7. Four Strong Winds – Ian Tyson

6. Summer of ’69- Bryan Adams

5. Snowbird- Anne Murray

4. Running Back to Saskatoon- The Guess Who

3. Let Your Backbone Slide- Maestro Fresh Wes

2. Wheat Kings- The Tragically Hip

1. The Hockey Song- Stompin’ Tom Connors

Bonus Track… When I’m Up- Great Big Sea

DJ Scratchley Q

Worth Living Ambassador Thomas Morgan

My name is Thomas Morgan. I am a 21-year-old Sociology student at Acadia University in Wolfville, Nova Scotia. I am a brother to a younger sister, an older sister, and an older brother. I am a son to two wonderful parents. I have Bipolar Disorder and I am a suicide survivor, but I am so much more than either of those things. I’m just trying to figure out the specifics of who that is.

Caution: Thomas discusses Suicide with graphic language

Coming Out of My Fog

This is a fairly long article, and before I begin I just wanted to clarify that I am in a good head space right now. I have great friends, I have been seeing a nice girl, I am beginning to get a regular schedule back in my life, and my family just found out that I have another older sibling on my dad’s side! I haven’t felt this good in a couple months.

In April,  I went on my first vacation outside of Canada with my best friends to celebrate some of them graduating. I managed to keep up with my medications, as well as maintain the proper diet to go along with them. I could not name a single bad experience or thought I had on that trip. The entire experience was something out of a dream.

The problem with dreams is that, eventually, you wake up. Within a week of coming back, I began to have this mixture of feelings between dread and numbness. You see, one of the things I had never taken into account was that stability with Bipolar Disorder requires a solid routine. I had become so accustomed to my friends constantly being around and always having something to do. When I returned, I had nothing to do but play video games. I had my friends, but as I got deeper into the episode the less I saw that. Then my car broke down and when I called to inform my parents of this I found out my Mom had been extremely sick since I went to Cuba. Thankfully, she is doing much better now.

All of these things threw me into a deep depression. It felt as if it was just a tiny snowball rolling down a mountain and within minutes it hit the bottom and was 300 pounds. The few problems that started the descent had ended up being just small parts of the entire episode. They compounded with countless other thoughts, events, and voices.

I would only leave my room to use the washroom. I didn’t eat for three days. When I did, I ordered a family meal for pizza delivery. It was gone within less than 12 hours. My dad, who knew I was feeling depressed, would call me between three to four times a day. I can honestly say that the only time I had felt this down was back in 2013 in the weeks leading up to my suicide attempt. That voice, the screaming, came back one night. It had me on the floor crying. I needed to feel something, I needed to show myself that I was not out yet. I kept telling myself I was not going to make another attempt. I wasn’t strong enough alone, but I had people behind me who loved me who I had to keep going for. Like I said though, I needed to feel something. Anything that would make me feel alive.

I wasn’t myself when I thought this plan through. I got up and grabbed one of my knives. I sat down and stabbed myself in the leg about six inches below my waist. I nearly did it right above my anniversary tattoo on my forearm, but I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want to look at the scar in a few months and be reminded. At least with this positioning the wound is constantly covered. It may be unsurprising looking back at it, but that didn’t help the situation in the slightest. Now I was just a depressed mess with a bloody leg. Who would have guessed?

Anyways, I began drowning out the voice with music on my computer. I made sure to start accomplishing what some may consider little things, like actually getting out of bed, brushing my teeth, and cleaning my desk. I slowly began feeling better. Little victories were soon followed by big ones such as showering, cleaning my room, and leaving the house. I tried to give the impression I was stable much sooner then I actually was, but each day was a little bit easier.

Once I actually began to feel stable again, I began writing more spoken word poetry. When I opened the book containing my poems, I found something I had clearly wrote during the depressive episode. I was in such a fog at the time that I hardly remember writing it. Originally, I was going to tear it up and throw it away, but I decided to keep it. It is my way of describing what I conquered this time, similar to my tattoos.

DNR

My life is filled with nothing but long nights and short meaning.
There are days where I hold my hand over the fire
and no matter how hard I try I can’t make that beautiful.
It isn’t poetic.
It just burns. It burns and burns
and I can’t…
I won’t take my hand off that flame.
It’s the only warmth I feel.

In my first article for Worth Living, I stated that I accepted my mental illness, that it made me a better person. I still believe that. However, that doesn’t mean that I don’t have days where I feel like the entire world is falling down around me and it’s my fault. I do. Often. But, everyone has their struggles, and there are people who have it far worse than I.

I debated sharing this information with anybody, but eventually I decided that it was what would be best for me. I don’t like things going unsaid. If I have thoughts about anything I tend to make the message loud and clear. Some have told me I share too much when it comes to my illness, suicide attempt, or depression. Fuck them. I share the stories I share because talking about my problems is what I have found to help my mental health more than any medication or exercise. I encourage anybody reading this to try having a similar outlook, do what helps your mental health the most and forget about those people that make judgements. There is no “magic pill” that works on everybody. What works for one may not work for another. It is entirely dependent on the person.

Please, if your own life or someone else’s is in danger, dial emergency immediately. Don’t hesitate. There are also various help lines you can contact to talk to somebody, or even to get some information. You are not alone.

Kids Help Phone (Ages 20 and Under): 1-800-668-6868
First Nations and Inuit Hope for Wellness: 1-855-242-3310
Canadian Indian Residential Schools Crisis Line: 1-866-925-4419
Trans LifeLine (All Ages): 1-877-330-6366

Worth Living Ambassador Precious A. Emodamori

Precious A. Emodamori is one of Nigeria’s Mental Health Advocates, blogger at www.idaretoblossom.org  , Content Manager and a seasoned Marketer who combines digital and traditional marketing skills to create brand awareness, promote public representation and boost businesses.

Her insight and passion for creating positive mental health awareness stems from her everyday life experiences and being diagnosed with bipolar disorder in 2003, following a nervous breakdown that resulted into a psychotic episode.

Will I Ever Be Okay?

The first thought that came to my mind when the doctor diagnosed me with Bipolar Disorder was, ‘will I ever be okay?’

The fear of the unknown was real. I was scared that life would never be the way it used to be prior to when I experienced a nervous breakdown in 2003. One major characteristic of living with Bipolar Disorder is the constant battle to live a balanced life. I had to develop coping skills to avoid living at any extreme ‘pole’ of life.

Developing coping skills at 20 while recovering from a major psychotic episode meant that I had to come to terms with myself and confront my limiting beliefs. I had to remind myself that life is a gift – a beautiful gift that deserves to be lived purposefully. I did a mental audit of the things I could do and the things that made me happy. Then I made the decision to live intentionally and keep going, regardless of the glary limitations.

For me, every day is an opportunity to live life to the fullest in all I do.

From my experience, anyone managing Bipolar Disorder may feel like a victim of the changes that accompany the diagnosis and treatment. There will be days you will feel so sad for no reason and you will be so excited on other days!
So far, living with Bipolar Disorder has taught me that everyone has the chance to be the best version of themselves if they unlearn helplessness, quit the victim mentality and follow a step-by-step process to live a purposeful life.

Every day, it’s becoming clearer to me that the answer to ‘will I ever be okay?’ is YES. A “yes” that is directly proportional to how I improve my mental wellbeing. How do I do this? By seeking professional help, taking my prescribed medication and making a commitment to myself to live life to the fullest. I recognise that even though I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder, I am not the diagnosis.

This is why I often say: ‘my name is Precious, I was Bipolar and I live a full life’ – a life that is Worth Living!

Worth Living Ambassador Katie Campeau

Hi, my name is Katie, I’m 21 years old and am in my 3rd year of Sociology at Acadia University. I love writing and reading, and I’m very enthusiastic about learning. I also happen to be dealing with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Generalized Anxiety Disorder and depression. I know, just your stereotypical student…

 TRIGGER WARNING: Katie discusses self – harming

“Dear OCD”

This letter explores the relationship between my OCD and self- harming behaviour. In my case, I cope with intrusive thoughts by cutting myself, so it’s a compulsive behaviour associated with wanting to get rid of intrusive thoughts.
I wrote this at a time when I desperately wanted to cut myself because I was struggling. It’s been almost three months since the last time I’ve cut myself, and I can’t emphasize enough how much of a victory that is for me. But to this day there is still the temptation to fall back into that pattern and so writing this letter was a way to distract myself. This is coming from a very raw place, and I’m not used to being so open about this part of my mental health. I know that many people have seen the marks on my arm and I’m not always straight forward about them. I’ve never wanted to lie about where they come from but it’s not always easy to have that conversation. I hope that after reading this, you have a better understanding of what self- harming is and how it’s different for everyone. It’s time to be more open about the messier parts of mental health and maybe this is one way to start that conversation.

Dear OCD,

Shut the fuck up.

Seriously, I get it. I’m bad. I suck. Everyone hates me. I don’t deserve the good things in my life. Everyone’s going to leave me. I get it. Why are you being so God damn repetitive? I hear you, and you’re hurting me. I am nothing but an empty shell. Are you happy yet?

I guess you’re not. You’d be happier if I gave into the temptations of self -punishment. You aren’t truly pleased until I fall back into the oh so familiar pattern. You know. I take the knife out and then the first aid box. It’s never satisfying in the moment though, and that’s probably because I desperately wish I never have to go here in the first place. It’s always the bandaging up that feels best. The stinging means that the punishment is done and the thoughts are gone for a little while.

That’s your least favourite part though. You love the blade against skin action. You live for the blood and gory parts. You’re never satisfied by a little scratch, it has to be deeper than that. And when it hurts, really hurts, you’re in your fucking glory. You couldn’t be more pleased with yourself.

But you have to uphold your end of the agreement, and sometimes you’re really shitty about it. Maybe you’ll give me a day or a week, then there are times when you only give me a few hours. Those hours can be blissful. The pleasure that comes with not caring about the intrusive thoughts is what I believe to be heaven. It’s probably what it feels like to be normal.

Then again, there are the times that you still somehow get your way and I leave the experience feeling guilty. There can be guilt over falling back into self- harming. I think about what my friends and family think, how they’ll have to see the marks on my arm. They’ll think they’ve let me down even though it’s never about them, it’s always between you and me. I look at these marks and I’m reminded of how I’ve let myself down. How I am so far away from my goal of ‘self- love’ that at this point it’s merely a fantasy. It’s unattainable because I fall back into the pattern.

The pattern that you put me in.

Because you won’t shut the fuck up.

Yours’ forever,

Katie

Worth Living Founder Keith Anderson

Note : This article was the first time I went public with my depression and its devastating impact on my life. It was published on February 20, 2008. Since then, my life has changed significantly.

National Post Statement :

Each week in our All About series, we introduce our subject on Tuesday, feature a first-person essay on Wednesday and open up the pages to our readers on Thursday. This week, we look at resilience. Have difficult times made you stronger?

How I Returned to a Life Worth Living – February 20, 2008.

Life is overrated. That’s how I looked at mine. I had sleepless nights for weeks and months, which went on for years. I withdrew from my friends. My lunch was a bagel and water as I drove around the city. I couldn’t focus on a movie or a book. My last personal relationship was shortchanged, my mind unravelling. To me, I just had bad days, bad weeks.

As my depression escalated, I withdrew further from the world. I bought an isolated house, acting, more or less as my own lawyer, thinking that if I could get this house, I could hide and my bad days would be gone. Few people know about the house.

I had unknowingly lived with depression for many years, until being diagnosed on March 7, 2003. On March 11, 2003, I was disciplined by the Nova Scotia Barristers’ Society as a result of decisions I made during the purchase of the house. At that time, I fully acknowledged that such decisions were wrong and unethical. The Bar Society recognized that my depression led to my bad decision making. Previously, I had had three complaints in 18 years of practice, all dismissed outright. The chairman of the Bar Committee said, “Keith, go home and get healthy.” I suffered a mental breakdown on March 12, 2003. So, clearly not my best week. The breakdown had been unfolding for months, my depression had been gathering for years.

I was in real bad shape: no self-confidence, no self-worth, no energy, no interest in most things, all symptoms of depression. Anxiety attacks became a daily occurrence. I was confined to a bedroom for a month. Actually, this self-confinement, to some extent, lasted for a few years. To venture out of the bedroom, to the living room, was a big step. To go outside the house was a major accomplishment. However, even in the midst of such angst, I knew I wanted to get healthy.

I was fortunate to have great family support. They provided such concern and care that I felt well protected. They sat at my bedside for weeks. Without them, I would have ended up in hospital. With their help, I was able to leave the house, go out to eat, slowly begin to do normal things again.

The medication prescribed by my doctor worked in to settle my mind; there would be no more trying to handle too many things. Two side effects were that I slept and ate a lot, which, to me, were good effects.

The Bar Society provided me with a list of therapists for whom they would cover the cost of the first ten visits. With my family’s encouragement, I made an appointment.

I had never been to therapy before, so I had no idea what to expect. Well, it’s amazing what one will tell a stranger. The floodgates opened and out flowed my life. I attended therapy once a week for two years, then once a month. Therapy became the highlight of the week. It was determined that my depression was triggered by my father’s death in February, 1992. I come from a close family. With my therapist’s guidance, my medication was suspended in 2005.
Some friends provided great support. They not only told me they wanted to help, they actually did so, whether it was helping me to sell the house, storing my belongings or just a drive around the city. One couple took me to a few movies and to pilates classes.

There were a few bumps, though. Some people did not reach out at all. Others snubbed me, one a person who used to greet me with a hug, another  a court official. Another person came back into my life fully knowing of my depression, took full advantage and treated me poorly, setting back my recovery by a year or so. I have come to realize that such people are not true friends and learned to dismiss them from my life.

So, getting healthy required help and care from my family, some friends and doctors. It took a series of small steps, which to me were huge, and a strong will on everyone’s part. But most importantly, it took my wanting to get well.
I have little money. No income. No job. Life is good. Seriously, my life is really good. To focus on what I don’t have is not fair to what I do have. I have my good health. I am now as mentally strong as I was 25 years ago. I have my family, all healthy as well. I sleep well. I can read a book. I can enjoy the day.  I am not sure what I will do as a career, but it will unfold.

I have learned how to be happy again. I have a real life now. Life is good.

Worth Living Official DJ Scratchley Q

Top 10 Countdown with DJ Scratchley Q

People that truly know me know that I’m a huge Kid Cudi fan, and that’s why this week’s countdown is 100% all Kid Cudi tracks. Cudi has inspired me in many ways. Of course he has inspired me musically but, also by his willingness to be open about his mental health struggles. At a point, his struggles had taken over his life. During interviews he has spoken openly about his struggles with suicidal urges and depression and has been an advocate for people with mental illness to reach out and get help. Even in his lyrics, you can tell he has taken inspiration from his personal life experiences dealing with mental illness and has turned it into some amazing music.

Back in October 2016, Kid Cudi dropped to one of his lowest moments in life and shared with the public his raw emotions on his Facebook page before checking himself into a rehab facility.

This is what Cudi wrote:
“It’s been difficult for me to find the words to what Im about to share with you because I feel ashamed. Ashamed to be a leader and hero to so many while admitting I’ve been living a lie. It took me a while to get to this place of commitment, but it is something I have to do for myself, my family, my best friend/daughter and all of you, my fans.

Yesterday I checked myself into rehab for depression and suicidal urges.

I am not at peace. I haven’t been since you’ve known me. If I didn’t come here, I would’ve done something to myself. I simply am a damaged human swimming in a pool of emotions every day of my life. Theres a ragin violent storm inside of my heart at all times. Idk what peace feels like. Idk how to relax. My anxiety and depression have ruled my life for as long as I can remember and I never leave the house because of it. I can’t make new friends because of it. I don’t trust anyone because of it and I’m tired of being held back in my life. I deserve to have peace. I deserve to be happy and smiling. Why not me? I guess I give so much of myself to others I forgot that I need to show myself some love too. I think I never really knew how. I’m scared, I’m sad, I feel like I let a lot of people down and again, I’m sorry. It’s time I fix me. I’m nervous but i’ma get through this.

I wont be around to promote much, but the good folks at Republic and my manager Dennis will inform you about upcoming releases. The music videos, album release date etc. The album is still on the way. Promise. I wanted to square away all the business before I got here so I could focus on my recovery.

If all goes well ill be out in time for Complexcon and I’ll be lookin’ forward to seeing you all there for high fives and hugs.

Love and light to everyone who has love for me and I am sorry if I let anyone down. I really am sorry. Ill be back, stronger, better. Reborn. I feel like shit, I feel so ashamed. I’m sorry.

I love you,
Scott Mescudi”

So here it is. The Top 10 Countdown, Enjoy. – DJ Scratchley Q

10. Pursuit of Happiness- Kid Cudi ft. MGMT

9. Mr. Rager- Kid Cudi

8. Balmain Jeans- Kid Cudi ft. Raphael Saadiq

7. Up, Up and Away- Kid Cudi

6. Just What I Am- Kid Cudi ft. King Chip

5. Day ’N’ Nite- Kid Cudi

4. Soundtrack To My Life- Kid Cudi

3. Erase Me ft. Kanye West

2. Surfin’ Kid Cudi ft. Pharrell Williams

1. Love- Kid Cudi

Bonus Track… Teleport 2 Me, Jamie- WZRD (Kid Cudi and Desire)

Worth Living Ambassador Felicia Singh

Hello, my name is Felicia. I am a 25 year old healthcare professional and
counseling/psychology student with anxiety. As well as someone with an unexplainable
yearning to understand mental health disorders. The who, what, where, when, and whys of it all

The S Word

1 of every 5 adults experience some sort of mental illness every year. 1 of every 5 youths
between the ages of 13-18 also experience some sort of mental illness every year, yet mental
illness is still a stigma. What can we do to change this?

If you are someone that does not have a mental illness, you may feel as if the discussion does
not concern you when in fact it concerns us all. Let’s look at it this way. I mentioned above the
amount of us who are affected by a mental illness yearly and for some a lifetime. Chances are
this applies to you or someone you know. Mental illness shows no bias to an individual’s race,
gender, religious beliefs, occupation, etc. We tend to get uncomfortable about discussing
anything mental health related because no one wants to be written off or labeled as being
“crazy”.

Someone with a mental illness is not defined by that illness and is not any less of a
person because of it. Too often in society mental illness is viewed as threatening or something
extremely abnormal.

I think a huge part of ending the stigma that surrounds mental illness is talking about it more.
Many of us may feel uncomfortable when sharing details about our mental health. Let’s start
there. Mental health is equally as important as your physical health. The brain works as a
control center for the entire body. It contains billions of nerve cells that coordinate our thoughts,
emotions, behaviors, and movement. It has everything to do with everything and that fact
although I’m not sure how is often overlooked. If you break your arm or have an odd rash, you
would usually go to a doctor. Seeing a physician for a mental health issue should not be any
different. Coming from someone that has been in the medical field for five years, I can honestly
say that there is no reason to feel ashamed about discussing a mental health issue. We’ve
practically seen and heard it all.

The comfort level you have with yourself and your mental illness definitely affects how those around you will deal with it as well. I always reassure patients who are hesitant to discuss something that we are here to help them and we can’t do that properly if there is a communication gap. You should take your time when choosing your health
care provider. It’s important to feel comfortable with your doctor and their staff.

We all have a role in helping to end the stigma that surrounds mental health. The easier it
becomes to talk about, the more aware others will be. Whether you know someone who is
affected by a mental illness or not, people are still people at the end of the day. And caring
about the wellbeing of others is just… well human. EVERY life has purpose and is worth living

Worth Living Ambassador Alex Campeau

Hi, my name is Alex, I’m 23 years old and am still going through a bumpy ride. I’m diagnosed with schizoaffective- depressed subtype, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, and Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. It’s a lot to swallow, but don’t think of them as disorders, think of them as personality traits. I have had three hospital stays and hope to have a smoother recovery than the one I am having now.

My Psychosis

I was sixteen. That’s when things started to change. By change, I mean I was getting suspicious about people and their true intentions. To me they all meant to make me feel poorly about myself. Writing was the only escape. At first, they started out as just journal entries, but then they became my only method of speech. I would write endlessly until the school day was finished. I wrote about how much the world was a lie and that every action made by others was “fake” or “false”. My teachers became nervous around me and were worried about my endless writing. I had quite the grandiose personality but I didn’t show it. Everything was about me, Alex Campeau. I really was giving people a scare. I was seeing a psychiatrist, the school psychologist, my guidance councillor, and the vice principal on occasion.

When I was eighteen, I had classes in high school but I’d just go to them and after the lesson was taught, I’d leave and go to my “other” classroom where kids with troubles in school would go. There I wasn’t as scared but the anxiety and paranoia was becoming unbearable. The school psychologist and my guidance councillor came to the conclusion that I was psychotic. They made an appointment for me to get evaluated for a program called the On Track program. The On Track program was for people who were experiencing first episode psychosis. Anyway, I went to the appointment and lied. I told them that everything in my life was fine. They made a second appointment for me and I spilled the truth. I was a mess. In my head, home was a nightmare and so was the rest of the world. At one point I thought I was the antichrist and had powers.

At the On Track program I was assigned a nurse, a different psychiatrist and I was to attend groups there with the other patients. The groups involved things like walking group, cooking, gym, etc. I was the odd one out there due to my levels of anxiety and paranoia. My life took another turn when I had to call my father to take me to the hospital due to how I was feeling. For me it wasn’t just paranoia and anxiety, it was also depression and obsessive compulsive disorder. I was in the ER and without hesitation they got me a bed.

I was given a different psychiatrist and it was the same psychiatrist who dealt with me in my first hospital visit and in my second appointment at On Track. In most psych wards you have three options. You can either walk in circles, take meds that will make you tired, or make friends with the other patients. I had three good friends there who were my age and I trusted them. We would talk about our mental health which was a good subject for me because I don’t know how to talk about anything else. In the hospital, the nurses and my doctor told me to stop hanging around with my friends because the staff thought I was manipulating them, which of course I wasn’t. I always felt like the staff behind the nurse’s station were always talking about me and how I was a threat. Like I had done something wrong. I had thoughts like that all the time. Thinking I had harmed somebody without remembering it or robbing a bank, evading the police.
Those thoughts I had where I had done something wrong without remembering it, I thought they were so real.

houghts like that are a part of my OCD, well, It was like a psychotic OCD. Thinking that the number four would aid me in some way, thinking intrusive thoughts were reality. Anyway, I was discharged from the hospital after two and a half months of being there. I was sent to the Royal Mental Health Centre for some more testing and they were thinking I had schizoaffective disorder. I was introduced to the head of the schizophrenia program (yes another psychiatrist) and he thought the same. I remember my mother asking my doctor what he saw in me and I remember these words, “I see a young man being terrorized by his own thoughts”. I asked to be admitted and my doctor agreed right away. There were two schizophrenia wards, Schizophrenia North, and Schizophrenia South. I was in Schizophrenia South.

The Royal was amazing. I really liked my doctor and I know he cared about his patients. In the Royal, I was thinking I could read thoughts and that others could read mine. I was too paranoid to eat with the others so I remained in my room. I was also very depressed. The depression was the reason I was so skinny, I never ate. So they gave me two Ensures a day. Ensure is basically a meal replacement drink. So I had two of those and three meals a day. What was great about the Royal was the activities. Remember how I mentioned there were only three options in the hospital? This hospital had tons of options. There was walking group, gym, cooking, computers, and so much more. The one bad part was the medications. I felt like a lab rat sometimes because of all the meds they were trying on me. The most effective medications were Clozapine, Clonazepam, and Lexapro. The Clozapine slowly made me see things for how they were. I wasn’t “cured” but I was more like the Alex everyone knew at fifteen years and younger.

After nine and a half months of being there I was much better. But to this day I do not answer the door because my psychotic OCD would tell me that the person has a gun or when the phone rings I’ll think it’s the police after me. I did hear voices before that would only say my name and see a person who couldn’t have possibly been there. It was a very scary time. Going through that psychosis really ruined my life. I had lost all my friends, lost self- confidence, and I’m am lost. But I am close to being found. I only have one friend who had gone through something horrible like I had. But that’s all I need at this moment. I am still struggling, but I’m still alive and moving forward.

Now I use running and exercise as a coping mechanism. I face my problems head on and strong. I feel like I have a purpose in life and to all of you who don’t think they have a purpose in life, think about all the horrible crap going on and help others using that crap. Survive it and help someone who is feeling how you felt. Give someone else a life worth living.

Worth Living Ambassador Delicia Raveenthrarajan

Delicia is a performing arts student who also takes on the world with her passion in spoken word, motivational speaking, song writing, the arts, musical theatre, and changing the world with strength and kindness. She has become who she is by volunteering, speaking and life changing travels. Delicia simply  states her journey so far: Canada Born. Kenya Bound. Arizona Built. Amazon Braving. Strength Embracing

Stigma isn’t Over: A Student Perspective.

Stigma isn’t over. I am a student and stigma isn’t over. I walk through the halls and stigma isn’t over. I reach out for help and stigma isn’t over. Stigma isn’t over.

Stigma isn’t over because I’ve heard countless comments on how I couldn’t possibly have a mental illness because of my academic standing. From “you don’t seem like it,” to “but you’re so smart,” the words burn into me like a lighter held near paper- slowly but surely. The pain of invalidation and lack of support.

I have high functioning disorders which make it easy for people to believe the facade. But it doesn’t make my illnesses any less real. I still suffer and struggle. I still hurt and sometimes tasks like putting my feet on the floor or turning on the bedroom lights are seemingly impossible. Just because one cannot see it, doesn’t mean it’s not there. Please stop invalidating my illness because like any other illness, it is just that. An illness. Stigma isn’t over.

Stigma isn’t over because I can’t comfortably tell my teacher the reason for my absence without fear of disappointment or judgement. For some reason “I was at the hospital for medication changes because of my mental illness,” or “I was taking care of my wellbeing,” doesn’t flow off the tongue as well as “I broke a bone,” or “I had the flu.” Yet all of these challenges are valid. I still cannot go to my teacher and ask for an extension on my assignment because of my mental well- being but my classmate on the hockey team is given an extension without any questions asked. I couldn’t be exempt from exams despite a hospital note for a mental health crisis but concussions were exempt without hesitation. Stigma isn’t over.

Stigma isn’t over because I had to fight and I still have to fight for accommodations because I don’t look like I have an illness even though I have a hospital doctor’s letter in my student file. I was told that I was too smart to receive accommodations despite my need for them. My intelligence has nothing to do with my illness, but my focus, anxiety, memorization, and work ability does. Stigma isn’t over.

Stigma isn’t over because when I have a psychiatrist appointment, I feel the need to tell my school I have a dentist appointment when I sign out. Stigma isn’t over because when i reached out for school support, the first response I received was “but you don’t look like it. You look fine.” Stigma isn’t over because my several peers and teachers believe I am less than others because of my illness. Stigma isn’t over because in a time of no energy I still have to put in the draining effort of justifying my feelings to a school. Stigma isn’t over because some people simply don’t care. Stigma isn’t over because I fear judgement when I ask for help and support. Stigma isn’t over.

We aren’t done fighting the good fight. We aren’t done advocating to stop the stigma. We aren’t done the movement to change how society handles mental illnesses because I am a student. And for me, stigma isn’t over.

Worth Living Ambassador Meiyi Wong

My name is Meiyi Kiyoko Angel Wong, “Mei” for short. I am a 22-year-old Asian-American woman living in Honolulu, HI. I am a survivor of trauma including child abuse, domestic violence, and rape, and I have been fighting several mental illnesses since I was 19. I struggle with depression, anxiety, complex PTSD (C-PTSD) and borderline personality disorder (BPD); I am also in recovery from an eating disorder. This May, I graduated from Honolulu Community College with my Associate Degree in Human Services. In the fall, I’ll be transferring to the Myron B. Thompson School of Social Work at the University of Hawai’i at Mānoa. My dream is to earn my Master’s in Social Work, specializing in mental health and trauma, so that I can manage and work with individuals living in group homes. I currently am employed as a Residential Assistant at Safe Haven, an agency which provides services for adults who are homeless and severely mentally ill. My life’s passion is helping people who are dealing with mental health, trauma, and recovery. In my spare time, I run an Instagram (@fightingformei) chronicling my personal journey; I also blog about my experiences at fightingformei.wordpress.com. My mantra is “real, vulnerable, imperfect”; I want to inspire and empower others to be genuine on social media and in real life, to embrace their stories, and to live as beautifully flawed, unapologetic works in progress.

~”It’s Completely Acceptable to Stay Alive for the Little Things”

To bury yourself in a heap of laundry straight out of the dryer.

To eat fresh-baked restaurant bread so hot it stings your fingertips when you pull it apart, releasing a noiseless breath of steam.

To dive beneath the surface of a swimming pool and experience trillions of molecules of water rushing at once to embrace you, and just feel so alive in that moment.

To find out what happens to your favorite character on next week’s episode.

To wander through Bath and Body Works after September, sniffing candles scented pumpkin pie and apple spice.

To see that cute girl who works at the supermarket, then choosing exactly ten items or less so you qualify for her lane.
To scroll through funny GIFs until you find the PERFECT one for a friend.

To hear little kids burst into giggles whenever someone says “booty”.

To try a new shade of M.A.C. lipstick.

To be shown a photo of yourself, and not only be OK with it, but actually like it.

To open up a brand-new box of Crayolas.

To randomly discover a talent you never knew you had, whether that be origami, soothing crying babies, or hard-boiling eggs.

To finish something. Anything. A crossword puzzle. A blog post. A novel. The next level of Bubble Shooter where you’ll earn five gold coins.

To go to the Fourth of July sale at Macy’s.

To hear Christmas music on the radio.

To finally wear that outfit you bought a long time ago but always forget about.

To beam with surprise when the salesperson gives you a discount you weren’t expecting.

To hear the “ping” of an incoming text and have your heart flutter with excitement, wondering if it’s from that special someone.

To bite into a crisp, sweet piece of summer fruit and feel the juice trickle down your chin.

And many more…

~”It’s Completely Acceptable to Stay Alive for the Little Things”