Bend, but never break.

Lately it's taken all I've got to make it through my work day. That moment of the day when I can remove the physical therapist role when I unclip my badge and coil up my gait belt is a moment when I can finally drop the reigns and let my surrender take the wheel.

I think even that is warrior of me.

I'm not one to count the tick marks of loss in my life but sometimes even I have weak moments where I feel all the odds are stacked against me and all I have been doing is rallying and rallying. I've been rallying endlessly for so long.

I listened to a song today written by one of my favorite songwriters, and a few of the lyrics spoke so deeply to me. About weathering the storm and getting through difficult times in life.

Try to ease my troubled soul. 
Try to weather this storm.
Grab on tight and just hold on to me.

Failure has never been a choice
And now I'm singing out my voice.
I'm seeking shelter in the sounds, it's never let me down.
I'm seeking refuge in a friend who reminds me, once again, that I will bend but never break.

That is something that I have to remember.
I will bend but never break.

Grab on tight and just hold on to me.

To Be Soldiers For Each Other

When you get worried, I'll be your soldier.

This song.  I have written about it before.  It used to always make me sad, as I yearned for another soul like mine who could be my soldier. My peers, who I would typically lean on, always seemed to miss the depth of this and how this concept of being someone's soldier runs so strongly in my blood.

Where did all the people go? They got scared when the lights went low.

When I've needed a soldier, I haven't gotten one.  I've had to be my own soldier. My own warrior.  When life is easy and fun, look at all these people in your life who are around.  Which of those people understand your own personal struggles?

Funny when times get hard, at the last moment when you're supposed to charge. Always on the longest yard, they feel their feet get cold.

Sometimes life gets unattractive, embarrassing, humiliating. Sometimes we have to go through things that we are ashamed of or uncomfortable with. Sometimes we hurt. Sometimes we are afraid. Sometimes we experience pain that makes us wonder if we can ever overcome it.  Our hearts break, our bodies disappoint us, our souls yearn for a kindred spirit who understands. We experience trauma, loss. Why do people run away from that?

Afraid of what they might lose.  Might get scraped or they might be bruised. You could beg them, but what's the use? That's why it's called the moment of truth.

Why does the moment of truth have to reveal, time and time again, that they don't understand and don't charge with you when times get hard. You shouldn't have to ask.  When I can see that someone I love needs someone to be a soldier for them, I do it. I don't make you wonder if I would be trustworthy and then make you beg me to help you. No. I'm already there, carrying you as much as you'll let me.

Hiding here, hiding there.  Find them underneath the stairs. People hiding everywhere, trying to be as still as a stone.

I know what it feels like to see the people around you hiding from your pain. Watch them not understand, and as a result feel so alone in a crowd. To feel so judged. I felt like everybody would hide from me when life got un-pretty and rough. They got cold feet. Afraid of what they might lose if they involve themselves in my pain. That was my moment of truth. Who would take my pain when I was hurt? When I run out of strength myself, where can I pull more strength from?  Who is my soldier?

I'll get it, if you need it. I'll search if you don't see it. You're thirsty? I'll be your rain. You get hurt, I'll take your pain.

I would rather feel that pain with you than miss out on being your soldier, and making you carry it alone. I would rather get scraped and bruised in the mess with you than leave you behind without a warrior to charge with you.  And you wouldn't have to beg me, either. In said moment of truth, I will be there with you and I will fight for you. I will choose to accept the truth and the reality of how much pain, suffering, and fear life can bring us, and I will embrace it and carry it with you.  I would do any of those things, because that is real.  I can't and won't ignore it and cover it up and put it in a pretty wrapped box with a bow on it and pretend the pain doesn't exist.

My aim is so true. I want to show you. I'll try forever, and I'm never going to say surrender.

This song used to make me sad, but it doesn't anymore.  Not when I trust that there is a soldier out there who understands me, accepts me, and will some day stand by me for anything.  And in any moment of difficulty and pain, I will get to be your soldier too.

Wherever you are and whenever you will be here, we will be strong for each other. And my aim, I promise you, is truer than true.

For the days I'm afraid I won't have.

This isn't something that I can just sit down and write about to get meaning across  But I'm doing it anyway or else I'll continue feeling like I can't breathe.  Alone in this house, I'm just sitting here in the dark at a loss.   I feel like all I can hear is a deafening silence in this room that makes me have to feel my cries so explicitly as the sharp daggers that they are.   I'm not afraid of crying.   But it's the truth behind the sobs that makes my heart ache so much.

Am I about to lose my best friend?  If I am about to lose this person who I have come to love and care for, I am completely and utterly powerless. All I have is this heart filled with all these things I want to say and can't because he's not here, and because what's more important is his own state of mind going into such a big thing.  In order to make it about him, it has to not be about me.

I'm sitting here trying to muscle through each moment, breath by breath, second by second, feeling completely heartbroken at even the slightest chance that I won't see him again. I'm crying and through my tears trying to get my heart onto paper with nothing short of mediocre words, and virtually leaning on my friend Jessica across the country for the love and warmth my heart so desperately needs, while I flounder in the fear of what could happen.

I've had a lot of loss in my life.  Unexpected goodbyes forced through circumstances that tore my heart out.  Loss of a good friend, a family member, a loved one.  I can't breathe at the thought of losing this one.

And while I sit here I realize I'm totally alone and the one person who would understand is him.

I yearn for the day this becomes a distant memory, the day I can just be in front of him and say everything I need to, the day I can stand here and know that he will be okay, and for the day that somehow, in a some way, I can be for him all that he's been for me.

To Everyone Who Has Anxiety, Me Too.

I'd like to share an article I wrote about my experience with anxiety. As a freelance writer and in an effort to raise awareness of mental illness and the mental health community, I decided to publish it here in hopes that it will speak to others.  You are not alone!

"To Everyone Who Has Anxiety, Me Too."
Written by Hannah Miller on 12/27/16

I know what it's like to live with anxiety.

Now that I know what it's like, and what it actually is, I can see where it had shown up throughout my life. I see the many different moments of anxiety I have experienced throughout childhood, teenage years, and into adulthood.  At the time, I just thought it was how everyone felt in those situations. 

Crippled by fear, frozen in one place while your mind paces endlessly, stomach nerves raging, heart rate rising and hands shaking. The more you try to fight it, the more aggressive it strikes. It is a full on body-trembling, soul-twisting voice of panic and fear. It makes you question your own reality, sanity, and identity. It makes you feel out of body, out of mind, and out of control.

It's the feeling you get in your belly, the jolt of shock, when you step off the side of a curb that you didn't know was there. Only it is constant, and coursing through your whole body like waves of debilitating pain and adrenaline.

This was just a normal stress response, I thought. 

I didn't know to reach out, didn't know that I could. For so long I thought I was just insecure and didn't know how to cope.

But that could not be further away from the truth.  The reality is that I didn't know it was because of a chemical imbalance in my brain.  I didn't know it was because of a learned response of behavior from my environment.  I didn't know parts of this illness can be genetic.  I didn't know anything. Most importantly, I didn't know it was not my fault, that it was not a character or personality flaw, and that it should be taken as seriously as a physical illness should. 

After suffering with chronic illness for 4 years and many different life events, my anxiety had soon become a living nightmare.  Others talk of taking it day by day, but I soon had to take it moment by moment, breath by breath. Sometimes, doing even just that seemed so impossible. When those feelings became so devastating that I could barely function, sleep, or eat, I knew I needed help.

It wasn't until I was 24 years old that I called it by its name and began the process of learning how to lovingly navigate this life with mental illness.

Now I know it's not a character flaw.  It's not that I can't cope.  Anxiety is NOT who I am, but something I live with and learn to navigate.  It does not mean I am out of control.

I know what it's like to live with anxiety, and I know now that I can still love myself deeply despite the insecurities, doubts, and fear that the voice of anxiety brings to my life.

I know what it's like to feel alone, like you are the only one who has to be strong, the only one who gets it. 

I know what it's like to search, and yearn, and struggle to find the empathy you know that you deserve from those around you. Just someone, anyone, who can love you through your despair and authentically understand what you're going through. Someone who at least would not judge you for the anxiety you experience and how that makes you different than those who don't know what it's like.

I know what it's like to feel lost, afraid of the anxiety, wondering and worrying if it can get any scarier, any worse, if you can feel any more defeated, small, and insecure than you do right now.

I know what it's like to live with anxiety.

I am here to tell you, me too. 

Hearing "me too" from others during my roughest years of panic attacks and anxiety was what I needed and what truly got me through the darkest of days. While I have worked on many years of self care, with counseling, psychiatry, medication, massage and yoga, meditation, and a huge toolbox of self care activities, nothing has helped me as much as a loving voice of empathy letting me know I'm not alone.

Hearing "me too" from another person suffering from mental illness means more to the heart than just two words at face value. 

Hearing "me too" means you're not alone. It means there are others out there like you.  It means you're not going crazy with irrational fear or worry, but instead you're a freaking warrior battling an all out mind-war and rallying to make a decision every day to choose loving yourself over believing the lies that anxiety feeds you. It means that even when you feel like you fail, you are not a failure.

You are not your anxiety.

Hearing "me too" means that while you feel like you're drowning in a sea of anxiety, there is someone who has been there and can inspire you to dig deep and find the skills to swim better than you ever have. Hearing "me too" can be the difference between feeling defeated and being victorious.

Ever since I have heard the words "me too", I've felt empowered to not suffer in silence, but to instead suffer together with others who have a mental illness so that we, together, can be warriors. Together, we can be the mighty warriors that help each other to remember who we are, and how to distinguish the difference between our own voices and anxiety's, even when we've forgotten.

To everyone who has experienced that unending dreadful nervousness in the pits of their stomachs...

To everyone who knows what it's like to feel like it takes every ounce of your being to pull yourself out of a panic attack...

To everyone who has ever felt alone, scared, judged, threatened, or anxious...

Me too.  And you are not alone.   

To stop being strong.

This is the first time I've cried, for myself, in a long while. I'm tired of being strong. I try, I try so hard. I know we are entitled to days where we feel weak, defeated, beaten down, or even just downright overwhelmed with things in life. But day to day I make the choice to set aside those things and choose to feel peace and happiness while I exude joy and positivity instead.

But today, I just can't.

It started out that way, but ended with e feeling just completely exhausted of it. I got some things in the mail I've been waiting for that I should be excited about and motivated to feel good. I have gotten some health issues under control and am not longer on medications, just natural supplements, and I should feel good about taking them and happy and thankful to have them and all the other help I have with my health. That is a great step.

But instead I feel angry, bitter, and discouraged about my health and that I can't be like everyone else right now. I can't eat whatever I want, or do whatever I want. Sometimes, and definitely when my autoimmune issues flare up, my life revolves around what I can and cannot do because of my illness. Today is one of those days where I'm just sick of fighting against my body as it fights against me. Because I hurt all over. I can't talk about it to anyone because it just sounds, and probably comes across, like I'm weak, complaining, or making excuses for myself. When in reality I am in serious pain 24/7 and it's a daily, constant struggle. This isn't something I can just "push through" or "get over". Because don't you think if it was, I would've by now? If I can will power the hell out of this, I would and it would've happened a long time ago. It's so much more complex than that and the more I try to reach out and explain that, the more push back I've been getting. The more judgment. Scrutiny. Condescending comments. It's just exhausting.

Coming up next on my list of battles today is my resultant anxiety over this and other things in my life. I'm thankful that in this moment right now, the anxiety is not fully taking over. But with it comes sadness and grief as I come to the realization that it will never go away completely. It's all just up to me to react to it differently.  In moments of fatigue and full panic, that can sometimes feel impossible. Today it's not, but instead I feel a frustration and grief that I have to deal with those moments in the first place along with my chronic illness. The emotions take over and I cry. It does feel better to cry, but it's painful to know this is my battle and mine alone, and while I do reach out and advocate frequently, I often feel secluded and alone with myself, knowing that only I truly understand how I feel.

These things I work through in life are only exacerbated by the smaller things. The smaller things that in my opinion shouldn't even be an issue or be here in any way. The smaller things, however unneccesary, are always made worse by the current pain and anxiety. It makes the smaller things bigger because I want so badly for things to, at the best of our ability, remain as it was this morning. Enthusiasm. Excitement. Joy. I know it's not realistic to have that all the time, but when it switches so fast to a more negative energy for absolutely no reason it is so extremely taxing on me. There are enough difficult things in life that happen, making things stressful and hard. But, this negative energy for no reason? Why? It's a waste of energy, a waste of opportunity for happiness and laughter, and a complete waste of time that could be spent in better ways.

Being in this weak point makes everything hurt and ache. Physically, and emotionally. Feels kinda like broken inside. While I know it will pass as it always does, I still hate it.

I am annoying. I am frustrating. I hold people back.

Those words cut so deep.  Why? I think because I don't ever want to do things that evoke such irritation or frustration in somebody else.  I am so empathetic and aware of the emotions of others that I do put their feelings and needs before my own in moments of distress or difficulty or in conflict.I have the best and most loving intentions in the world. I don't poke purposely. I don't annoy purposely. But yet somehow, when I'm being totally me and in my mind carefree and enjoying life, unfiltered, authentic, unafraid... I become perceived as something entirely different. And I'm always the last to know. I get snapped at, judged, and then inevitably become deflated and defeated.

We are all human. We all make mistakes. We all can seriously annoy each other. We are all imperfect and I am okay with that.

What I fail to understand is why I am never graced with patience. An open mind. Understanding. Rather than shut down by someone else's opinions of frustration. I will always take the feelings of other people in consideration and I take them seriously. I adjust and make efforts to swing it around to the positive side and change my behavior, but that just seems to make it worse.

On top of it all, I have a considerable amount of stress and concern for Noah, his mom and family and their wellbeing, and the affect it all has on my own health as well as how to navigate it all.  I try to support but it goes either unnoticed and unappreciated, or is just one more thing to annoy.

So here I am in the kitchen. Waiting for my homemade applesauce to cool. About to open my packages that came in the mail. Try my vitamins and supplements. Savoring my keyboard and my ability to write. With a tear streaked face and puffy eyes and just a desire to crawl into a corner, curl up, and ignore everything to allow myself to shut down a moment and stop trying to be so strong. And most of all, to just be okay with that.

A mutuality to long for

And this is when reality sets in.  That no life or love or situation can ever be as solid as you hope it to be.

I understood that to begin with, honestly. But when everything points that way for the good beginning portion of what's being built, just to have the solid faith be shaken so much so fast is crippling to that joy.

It changes my day-to-day peace.   My hope along the way is to not become resentful.

The main question that runs through my mind all too often now is, what did I ever do to be so unworthy of the truth, no matter how big or small?

I think I've done my part.  Communicated what's important to me and how I want to live, what my relationship and life policies are.  When it's honored by words and not action, I get so sad.  Because it's so unexpected and stings deep.

These values I hold dear to me are values I've always wanted to share mutually with someone.
Maybe someday..

For Drew

The world is a smaller, emptier, dimmer place without you Andrew Davis.

Not everybody who walks this earth makes such a significant and lasting mark on the souls they meet. But you surely and inescapably did.

Whether someone had briefly met you, had been friends with you like I had, or had been one of your closest friends or family members... we all know, you were something special, and unlike anyone.

These words are as much for me as they are for you and everyone else. You've affected all of us with the beauty of your life, and now with your passing there is a chasm in our hearts that will never again be filled. Because you filled that with your laughter, your good heart and solid ground of what it means to truly LIVE LIFE and be a great man.  

We miss you.

I'll never, ever forget the significant memories you've given me in our 10 years of friendship.

High school. You brought me out of my shell  freshman year when you made fun of how little I talk. Pointing at me with a skeptical look on your silly face.  "Hannah, you! You don't say much do you. " 

You shared your confidence and strong spirit with me. 

And then after high school, through the working years and many memories of summers filled with bonfires and guns and trucks and great music and beer. Memories of day drinking on Memorial Day. Lotsssss of chips and salsa at Chihuahua's. Endless roaring laughter on the couch, making fun of everything and nothing. Funny facebook chats that would make me roll over laughing. Late night pita pit after a night out at Bellingham bar and grill with a constant flow of sarcastic comments on how much you dislike downtown and love Ferndale. 

But, the best was when you finally gave in and told me I was one of the only girls to hang around you who could keep up with your witty sarcasm. We had a long line of sassy remarks and comebacks going back and forth and you never missed a beat. I remember one time I got the last word in. Believe it or not! "Hannah! Ouch! You're good!"

I think you're the reason my friends can't take me seriously sometimes.

I believe that's one of the greatest lessons you taught me. Don't take life too seriously. Especially don't take yourself too seriously. It's all about the love and the laughter. 

The last time I saw you, you nearly spilled your beer with your hands up high yelling my name and heading over for a big bear hug. You had a drink in each hand and gave me one of them so I wasn't empty handed. Only you could get me to drink that nasty Busch Light. ;)  

We all as a community and family feel like we are suffocating without your presence. Over time I know the pain will pass, but rest assured... the memories will never pass. Your profound meaning in our lives will last forever.  In the meantime heaven, you better know how truly blessed and lucky you are to have Drew. Because we all sure felt that way when he was here with us. And still now, with you being gone, I still feel blessed to have known you and called you a friend.

Say hello to Travis and Chelsea for us. 

We love you Andrew Davis. Your legacy of life is engrained in our hearts forever.