Inspirations

Caution: This post may be triggering for those who have struggled with self-harm or eating disorders in the past or still struggle today. Proceed with care.

A murky mixture of salty tears and maroon blood splash against the tile floor of my bathroom; A boy lets out muffled screams and lets a shaky hand containing a blade smack against the ground, defeated. Thrashing, gasping, and vomiting; December 1^st, 2012, a day like many others, frequently revisits my mind and clouds my thoughts. The bathroom floor became a second bed, hand-crafted specifically for my dry heaving and “Why Me?” attitude. But something was different about this night. Something happened within my mind that had never been touched upon before. A sense of courage, a sense of determination, and the first step towards a long recovery that is still a battle.

It was hard for me as a child to pinpoint who I admired because of how quickly everything changes, particularly in your youth. In the fall of 2012, in the midst of my journey to skin and bones and uncontrollable self-harm, I never thought of what effect it had on myself and my health, and I certainly never though of someone of something that would inspire me to thrive in other aspects of my life besides weight loss. However, I constantly tweeted about how much Demi Lovato was an inspiration to me, hoping that someone would get a clue about what was going on with me. Today, Demi still stands out to me as a phenomenal musician and spokesperson against bullying, self-harm, and eating disorders. However, in a time of gloom and hopelessness, would Demi be there for me when I needed a soothing tone to mellow my raging soul? Relationships and friendships failed as I reached the heart of my depression and eventually, I sat on the bathroom floor with no one to complain to. No one to text in the middle of the night, my typical message of,

“Tonight’s the night, I’m going to do it. I’m going to cut so deep that no one will ever have to worry about me again.”

That was when everything changed for me. When my messages were just being read, but no one was replying. I had driven everyone that I cared about away, until I was all alone in this world.

Towards the start of my blog, I made it seem more like I just stopped starving and cutting myself and that everything was fine and dandy and recovery was easy for me. It was true, I was clean from self-harm for nearly a year, until I found myself on that same bathroom floor yet again. Self-harm is so unnerving because you don’t even recall picking up the blade, you don’t recall slicing your wrist, or your leg, or your stomach, all you remember is the shame you feel when you’re wiping blood off the floor and yourself. In just a few seconds, I had ruined 1 year…12 months…52 weeks…365 days… of resisting the urge. It wasn’t until my first relapse from self- harm that I started finding my inspirations. How ironic that it was those who tore me down and who sat next to me in class that I found the most unimaginable inspiration and courage to fight on. How dare I, have the audacity to reply to a text stating, “I want to cut. I want to purge. I don’t know what else to do.”, with “Stay Strong.” How could I recommend and preach a lifestyle of cleanliness and hope when all I did was sit in my own pool of blood, vomit, and hypocrisy every single day.

My struggles with self-harm had become no secret for those who knew me, those who saw my arms, those who sat next to me in class. It wasn’t until those same people started wearing the pain from their lives on their wrists that I began to truly recognize the power of effect. I thought to myself one night as I laid wide-awake staring on my ceiling, if I showed these people that I could stay clean and represent someone who had looked self-harm in the eyes saying “Fuck you, I’m coming out on top.” Strangely enough, this centered my thoughts more and allowed my recovery to have more of a purpose than just fighting for my happiness. I was now a warrior to defend others and the happiness that they deserved to withhold.

That’s where ConfidencetoCommitment was born, on a quest to push others along the path to find their own joy and safety by understanding the horror that I put myself through. This blog serves not only as a way to inspire others, but as an outlet for myself. I find that the more I blog, the more honest I am, and if I don’t explain a “G-Rated” version of my story, that I am more motivated to not judge myself in the mirror and to not leave fresh wounds upon my skin. I slacked during the school year on updating the world via ConfidencentCcommitment, and it clearly showed on my arms. I can proudly say that my readers, followers, and dear-friends are the reasons I stay strong and are true inspirations. This post goes out to all of y’all. Lots of love.

-J.B.S 07/17/15

Joshua? It’s God…

 I crave God. I crave salvation. I crave acceptance. I crave normalcy. I crave connection. I crave to understand. Unfortunately, my cravings are not satisfied. All of my cravings seem to be centered around God and the lack of relationship I continue to NOT have with him. I’ve spent the majority of my teenaged years fighting against religion and those who have a passionate connection with it. Ironically enough, the only thing my heart truly craves is a vivacious connection to one, specifically Christianity.

For those who have been reading for a while, you have had more than enough insight to understand my story and the struggles that have existed within it. Throughout my struggles with depression, anxiety, self-harm, and eating disorders, I have never thought to place the blame upon myself; God has always been what I like to call, “The Younger Sibling” for me, that person I can place all the blame on, although completely innocent. It’s has always been so easy to just lay in my bed and sob big, whooping tears into my pillow and shout out, “Why Me?” “What have I ever done to you, God?” “Why are you picking on me?”. No doubt about it, I can’t control the fact that I was diagnosed with Clinical Depression and Anxiety, but I can control how I handle the aftermath and the issues that come along with them. I would slice my writs, and while blood was flowing from my skin and veins, I would stare at the ceiling and question God, blame God, and not once looking at the situation that I HAD CREATED, only looking for someone, or something else to blame it on.

I’m sure someone reading this feels the same, probably with a different situation, but still the same. Your boyfriend has broken up with you, “Why Me, God?”. Your mother has been diagnosed with cancer, “What has my family ever done to you, God?”, or you just can’t seem to find happiness in your life that is gifted with so many possibilities, “Why are you doing this to me, God?”.  It’s taken me longer than I’m comfortable to admit to come to the conclusion that God isn’t punishing us, he isn’t trying to destroy us – all God is trying to do is teach us, nurture us with knowledge, and to help us grow with experience. The difficult aspects of this is that sometimes these lessons affect us in ways that hurt us, make us cry, make our stomachs twist into a thousand knots while we grasp onto them for dear life… but it isn’t to tear us down.

Each and every summer, since I was a rising 1st grader, I’ve attended Camp Mikell, an Episcopalian Church Camp. Every week that I spend there, whether I am a camper or a counselor, I feel close to God, something that is unrecognizable for me otherwise while I am at home.  I tell myself constantly that when I return home after that week at Camp Mikell ended that I would continue this relationship with God to the best of my abilities. This safe and easy relationship with God that is formed while at camp became rather difficulty the second I pull into my driveway at home. Camp, a place disconnected from the outside world is centered around finding a healthy relationship with God – the outside world, strains far and wide away from religion and focuses on things that are “more important”. Factors from my anxiety and depression begin to come into action when away from Camp Mikell, and my motivation to strengthen the bond between my and God weakens and is no longer a priority.

Relationships with God always seem to be so misleading because of how easy some people make them look. I know that all of us have been scrolling through Instagram, Twitter, or Facebook and have seen a picture of someone who was celebrating that fact that they had just been baptized at that morning’s service, and how they were so incredibly grateful to start their lives fulfilling the word of God. It’s seems so easy then doesn’t it? As a younger teen, I used to think that if I just got baptized that I would instantly feel the fervor of God’s love and instantly see his life plan for me.

     As I grew older, I began to wonder if religion was even cut out for me, am I an atheist? Is Camp Mikell just making feel a false impression of God? Why hasn’t God reached out for me? I pondered upon this for several years until this past week, it just hit me… God isn’t going to appear to me in my room at 2:03 am and boom “Joshua? It’s God, I think it’s time that I explain to you how all this work so it becomes easier for you. No more worries, no more stress, let me just lay it all out here on the line for you.” Although, that would be nice, wouldn’t it?

We all have physical developments of what we believe God looks like within our head. A woman, a man, a light, a cloud, etc., but God doesn’t physically show up in our lives. He isn’t going to pop up and give us life advice when we are unsure of what to do. What is SO incredibly beautiful about God is the relationships he forms and the beauty that he leaves on our Earth. He won’t physically come to us and say “This is the college you should attend because…” or “Don’t marry him, he isn’t right for you and won’t make you happy in the long run…”, but I’ve been able to slowly devise my relationship with God because of how mysterious he is. The signs that he has left for me along the way, the extravagance of his world, and the relationships he has allowed me to form.

When I was a small boy, I used to question my mother, a woman who is spiritually strong, about God. “How do we know is he real momma?“. My mother would grab my hand and point up to the sky and the sun the was setting. She would look down at me and say, “Look baby, look at the colors, look at the clouds, look at how majestic that sky is.” I would ponder upon this as she would continue, “I go to bed at night not knowing what kind of God there is or what God has in store for me, but I know, when I look up at the beauty of our sky, that no man and no science can create that beauty by himself/itself.” This one conversation has been the amount of the few things that has kept me holding on to my relationship with God.

God creates beauty. And God has such a wondrous effect upon our world and the people that live within it.  The following quotes have been gathered from REAL people that I know with a REAL connection towards God.

He is the anchor that held me in place during my darkest and hardest storms.

Allowing God to come into my life has been the best decision I have ever made in my entire life. He is such a gentle, kind, guiding, and perfect Father to me. He understands everything about me and loves me with all my flaws. He accepts me with open arms. He has helped me turn from my addictions and the issues of my past and is leading my on a true path towards hope for an amazing future. HE IS SO GOOD.

Look at the devotion within these quotes, the absolute admiration for God, the trust within him. I want the love that these quotes exemplify, I crave to understand God… And I truly think that I am on the right path.

No, my relationship with God isn’s perfect. Yes, I struggle every single day with it. But have learned that he is here. He is looking out for my best interest. He wants me to succeed. Although I have spent most of my life blaming him for my faults and issues, he still loves my unconditionally.

“Joshua, It’s God, and I’m here for you.”

Update on Anxiety / What does Confidence to Commitment even mean?

I’m stuck. That’s my conflict. I’m so incredibly stuck. I’m in a place in my recovery where I’m taking one step forward and two steps back. I’m disappointed to say how much I have been struggling lately because of how much I thrive off of the support by blog gets. Every time I feel down, have an anxiety attack, slip-up, or say a negative thought, I think of my small group of fans who commit to reading my blog every single time I publish a post.  I feel ashamed to sit here and type these motivational posts when I cannot even stay true to them myself.

I’m stuck in between determine whether or not I need to go back on my anxiety medicine, but I don’t want to give in and say that I can’t do it on my own. It all goes back to “the first signs of anxiety” ; trouble falling asleep because my mind moves a million miles a minute, trouble focusing, panic attacks. It’s hard for me to watch myself slowly deconstruct again. I can’t find something to hold on to. I’m reaching, and I’m reaching, and I’m reaching, just for a hand, or a bar, or something to latch my shaky hands onto, but all I find is a fistful of doubt and disappointment.  That’s what’s hard about anxiety, not knowing when it’s going to flare, not knowing when you’re going to break down, and not knowing the next time you’re going to feel yourself genuinely smile.

My blog name, “Confidence to Commitment” was the first name I could think of when creating this page nearly a year ago, but I’ve never really explained it to my readers. Through my anxiety, I’ve struggled with these two aspects the most, confidence and commitment. Although I’ve finally found a sense of satisfaction in my body and my appearance, I struggle to feel confident when in a room of people. I can sing my heart out on stage and play any part I’m asked to do, but the second I’m asked to truly be myself in front a group of people, it’s the most gruesome and painful thing you could ask me to do. Anyone who knows me experiences my bubbly and loud personality, but seldom understand how difficult it is for me to be myself in more than just a small group of close friends. Although I’m confident in my sexuality, I constantly worry about what my father will think of my outfit of the day, or what people I run into in public places will think of the feminine qualities of my persona. Commitment, is my biggest fear, because I rarely find someone, whether it’s a friendship, relationship, or family tie, that I feel comfortable and safe around. I’ve been hurt too much to just throw myself into something that I don’t know the outcome of. I strive to be that boy, that boy who can just fall in love without questioning what’s going to happen if this happens, or what’s going to happen if that happens. I abandon most of my relationships because of how fearful I am of being left alone without someone to latch on to. What’s so ironic about my issues with commitment is how I destroy any chance at commitment I have because of my fear of it. This blog bloomed because of my constant battles with anxiety. It’s so hard for me to continue typing because of my anxiety, my fear of what my readers may think, my fear of letting the world know how shaky I am with recovery and with dealing with my anxiety, my fear of not being accepted.

There’s this stigma that surrounds anxiety, this stigma that says WE (the person suffering through anxiety) control it. I wish I could explain how much I desire for my anxiety to be controllable. The nights I’ve sat on my bedroom floor, sprawled out, wondering what the hell was wrong with me, the mornings I wake up after just falling asleep minutes ago because of a night filled with haunting thoughts of WHAT COULD happen. This stigma is what leaving anxiety an open door, a vast majority of the population are unfamiliar with how devastating anxiety can truly be. I’m opening my mind and soul to this blog post because of how unbelievably incorrect this stigma is.

My anxiety is such a horrifying yet beautiful experience on a daily basis. I am watching myself break down more and more every day, yet I am aware of what is breaking me down. I’m dry heaving, I’m sobbing, I’m shaking, but I’m learning, I’m realizing, and I’m understanding. Anxiety is something that I honestly cannot control, but it’s something that I know I can learn to control.I know I’m human, I know I make mistakes, and I know I’m not the only one out there. I’m nervous to release this post about my anxiety because of the vulnerability that is shows, but telling the exploring the process of recovery through venting and blogging is the most incredible experience. My story of anxiety isn’t anything out of the ordinary, but it’s mine. I encourage you to send me your stories of anxiety, recovery, depression, or anything you desire to tell me and join this battle- this battle of mental illness, let’s take this down, together. We are So Worth Loving.

I truly want to hear from you.

jshepherd637@gmail.com

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I am ALWAYS here to lend a helping hand, and can also use one, please, let’s do this together.

The Best That We Can Be

Sometimes, no matter how hard we try, strive, reach, and attempt, our best isn’t wanted. We pour our hearts into something that doesn’t want a glass full. We climb those ladders that lead to a nothingness reward. Each and every day we put our best face forward to achieve our so desired goals.  There’s something missing though – recognition.  We long for lovers who don’t exist. We long to be in the spotlight, we long to be 15 lbs lighter, we long to have lighter hair, and we long to be someone else. No matter the longing, no matter the thirst, some things simply never change. So what’s missing? Is it our fault? Are we truly doing all we can? Or is the universe just not ready to put out for us? We lie in bed at night and wonder what we have done wrong. We begin to tear ourselves apart, limb by limb, pound by pound, inch my inch, tear by tear. We lay in white sheets that are smeared with our disgust towards ourselves. Purity destroyed by our dissatisfaction

On the 5^th day of May in the year of 2015, I, Joshua Shepherd, type this post to you to declare that IT IS NOT OUR FAULTS. We work, and we work, and we work even harder to make our lives be filled with bliss, but it seems like there is always something in our way. IT IS OUR OF OUR REACH. If you have truly done all you can do and dedicated your heart in soul into something but the outcome isn’t to your pleasing, don’t fret. Our best is our best. If we give everything that we have and it doesn’t work out, we aren’t worthless. We aren’t done. We aren’t pieces of shit who can’t accomplish anything – we are human.  God put us on this planet to be the best that we can be.  Our happiness shouldn’t be reached on something or someone’s inability to see our greatness and to notice how valuable we truly are.

I’ve longed all year to have my love be returned by one who could never love me because of “how I am”.  We went nearly the entire school year without speaking but I remembered our brief friendship together. I remember the way I smiled at him; I remember the way I felt as if I mattered. I remembered the way we laughed to same and how my heart throbbed when I was around him. I sat pondering every night for nearly 9 months what I had done wrong.  It wasn’t until tonight when I realized his rejection and embarrassment towards me WAS NOT MY FAULT. I HAVE DONE AND DID ALL I COULD DO TO MAKE HIM ACCEPT ME THAT WAY THAT I WAS. MY BEST ISN’T FOR HIM. And although my best just didn’t satisfy him, it sure as hell satisfies me.  He will not longer rule my mind and eat away at my heart. All I’ve ever wanted to do was love someone. My best is all that I can do. My passion towards him will no longer consume my lifestyle because I know that I have done all that I can do. I am enough for ME. Just as YOU are enough for YOU.

For those who have been around my blog for a while (which is nearly a year!), although I have been a terrible blogger within recent months, know of my struggles with self-harm and eating disorders within my high school career. I’ve recently confessed to relapsing with self-harm. I’ve struggled these past several months with my relapse because of how ashamed I was of myself that it had happened. I couldn’t forgive myself for throwing away an entire year of hard work to a blade. To a blade that did nothing but cause me to feel remorse and an entire new set of rejections.  Today has been somewhat of an epiphany because of my realization. I’ve worked my ass off to recover from a variety of depressive issues. I’m human. I mess up. I falter. I stumble. But I stand back up again and start over. Recovery isn’t supposed to be easy, but it’s supposed to be worth it. I’m doing the best I can, and that’s truly enough to settle my mind. This being said, I am not saying go home tonight and slit your wrists, but If you do happen to have a moment of darkness, don’t beat yourself up. Stand up, Speak Up, and Start over.

Doing the best you can do is all that you can ask yourself in a moment of doubt. Whether it is with a love interest, a dream, or a recovery, all we have to do is use our determination to reach our final destination. You are all worth so much to the world; don’t let it get you down.

-J.B.S

May 5^th, 2015.

Send me an email- Jshepherd637@gmail.com … I would love to hear from each and every one of my readers. You’re all worthy of love and redemption from your past.

Wow. It’s been ages since I’ve published something on my blog. I guess I could try to lie to you and say that it’s because I’ve been extremely busy (in which I indeed have been), or that I’ve been too tired (also true), but it would be hiding from the fact that I have become overwhelmed with anxiety over the past several months. I’ve also been extremely ashamed to login to my WordPress and pour my heart out to the world because of how dishonest my blog has been at times. Over the past blog posts, I’ve explained my struggle in my teenage years and how I overcame them, but I’ve regretted saying how happy I am now, or how recovery gets easier every day. Sometimes, I take one step forward and what feels like a hundred steps back. I’ve told myself now that if I am going to keep up with this blog that I am going to have to 100% publish the truth of exactly what I am going through at that said point in time.

Over the past few months all of my time has been dedicated to theater and choir – what truly makes me happy in life. However, along this path, I have discovered how much anxiety truly rules over my life and how embarrassed I truly am. I the madness and whirlwind of my anxiety over the past several months, I relapsed in regards to the field of self-harm. What truly scares me about the event is how willing I was to do it, how quickly it happened, and how long I sat there slicing my own wrist open in attempt to feel something. In an attempt to feel something other than a constant racing heart, sweaty palms, headaches, and shaky limbs. I sat in the bath that night and watched the blood drip into the once pure water, now tainted with an eerie shade of red.

It has been proven that self-harm can be just as addicting as cocaine. Just like cocaine, self-harm provides a momentary sense of euphoria, an escape route for souls that thirst something more than the pain that they have already endured. I sat there in my tainted water that night and couldn’t wait to do it again the next day. Just as most people who self-harm are, I didn’t feel like I had cut deep enough when I went to sleep later that night. I wanted more marks upon my arms, I wanted scars to stay forever. I wanted to always have a reminder of what a failure I had become. I nearly resorted to purging that night. I sat there in front of the toilet wanting to feel once again what it was like to have the bones of my body sticking out for all to see. It took every single ounce in my being not to give up my more than 2 year clean streak in just an instant.

The next day at school, I had dance rehearsal for an individual event for GA Thescon. The looks of horror that I received that night at rehearsal as my arms were exposed made me remember the reason I chose to give up self-harm originally. It turned me into a monster not just mentally, but too look at. My arms physically repulsed people and the questions that bombarded me just made me even more anxious than I had felt the night before as I picked up a pocket knife. I wouldn’t become that monster again when I came home.

I guess the reason that I am sitting here right now pouring my heart to you right now is because of the amount of people I was able to touch with my story. Nothing has ever made me feel more worthy in life than someone saying “Your story made it easier for me to start my journey of recovery.” Currently, a story about my recovery and life is hanging inside of my school for all to see. A young girl, who I have mentioned before wrote this incredible piece about the incredible human being that my recovery had helped me become. I’m here pouring my heart to you to show how human I am and how tough recovery is. I’m here because my recovery is still a battle every single day. I’m here to let my story be known and to hopefully again, inspire someone to put down the blade and let that bath water stay pure and crystal clear.

Imperfect behaviors

Something that has always bothered me is when people call me “perfect”. Lately it seems that everyone is striving to “look perfect” “act perfect” “find perfect love”, when in reality, such things do not exist. Anyone who knows me can vouch for how my views on the world change. Some days, I feel as if nothing can go wrong and the world is 100% on my side. Others, consist of a pessimistic attitude that hold me back from moving on in my life. This is why, I don’t enjoy having my appearance, attitude, story, or anything about me called “perfect”. Now, you’re probably reading this and thinking of how pretentious and ungrateful that I am, but really think about this one for me.  I know that in my heart, I don’t always act like I should, and sometimes, I don’t really treat people like they deserve to be treated. So when people tell me how “perfectly positive” or how “my story is perfect”, I begin to feel guilt inside. I feel this guilt because although I have come so far in my journey and in my recovery, I’m still such a huge work in progress. I am such a flawed human, and I don’t believe that people should think that everything goes the way that it seems from online. I make mistakes, I tell lies, I hurt peoples feelings, I judge before I know people, I judge when I know people… I am a human. And the only thing perfect about me is how perfectly flawed I am.

This past week, my grandfather passed away from internal bleeding on his brain which caused him to slip into a coma. Just a few hours ago, we finished the service. My family, the minister, and attendants of the funeral could not stop talking about how my grandfather was the biggest gentleman and kind soul that they had ever met. How he always reached out to love people and to make sure they realized how valuable they were to him, even if he had just met them. When I leave this world, I want to be remembered as a caring person. I don’t want to exit this world with half of its population having a misconception about who I am.

I am Joshua Shepherd, and I am a flawed human.

A flawed human in a flawed world.

A perfectly flawed human in a flawed world

A perfectly flawed human in a perfectly flawed world.

JUST FOR YOU

My school’s online newspaper recently wrote an article on my blog and my struggles throughout school and how I have overcome them. Raider Wire Journalist, Julie, came to my Chamber Choir during lunch about a month ago and gathered insight on my personality and on my blog. I was very nervous in my interview because I, although am a very chatty and personable person, I get very nervous in social situation. “So Josh, why do you write? Who do you write for? What inspired me to write?” I sat there and stumbled over my words. I wanted this article to be wonderful. Not only for me. but for Julie. I wanted this wondrous person to have her talents and inner beauty shine. I thought about my answers after the interview and I realized… I don’t write for me. I don’t write for my family. I don’t write for my happy friends. I write for those holding on to a wire that is rusty and cracking.  I write for those how stare at a revolver every night telling themselves to pull the trigger. I write for those who stare into the depths of a toilet bowl after every meal. I write for those who are like me. I write for those who don’t think they can hold on anymore. Whether one person reads my posts or a million do. I desire nothing more than to help YOU. That one reader that can relate to me. I write for you. Just for you. This is for you. Hold on tight my dear, we can make it through.

A few thousand reads later, I feel like my blog had been relatively successful. Is it the top read on word press? No. And although that is a dream of mine, right now, I am perfectly content with my small following. The loyal readers. The friends who read every post I write. The mentors I’ve had who’ve told me I’ve made my story into something. I love my base of readers. I love my blog. I love you all.

Sometimes in my darkest hours in the middle of the night, I wonder who would miss me if I died. Would people come to my funeral? Would I be remembered? If so, what would I be remembered for? My voice? My laugh? My looks? My intelligence? I Then begin to hate myself, because I talk myself out of believing that I am talented, funny, smart, attractive. I find myself in my old positions. Sitting on the ground, crying myself to sleep. Wondering if one little cut would really make a difference on my wrists. I snap out of it. My face is hot and hard from sobbing. I am okay. I am alive.  I remember that although I occasionally feel worthless, I’ve inspired someone. I inspired the journalism class to write an online article about me. So if anything… Julie, this is for you. My fight is for you. I am fighting for you. I will never stop fighting for my happiness and for you. We can do this.

So if you’re reading this, holding your wrists, your stomach, you pill bottle, or you’re next to you’re scale. If you feel like you can’t make it. I am here. And this is Just For You. 

RELATIONSHIP GOALS

We as people commonly strive for connection. Whether this connection is friendships, romantic relationships, sexual relationships, or any other sort, we strive for it. However, we as people are not commonly educated on when we should eliminate these relationships. No, I do not mean to commit murder, I don’t want all of your pretty faces behind bars. I simply mean, when should we no longer participate in these relationships if they causes us pain and suffering? I completely understand the desire to want to be loved and to be cherished, but I unfortunately also understand looking for that when said relationship is not providing me with this love.
I struggle with this because I, even though not blatantly obvious, look for the best people, and always give them the benefit of the doubt. Throughout my high school career, I have gone through a series of friendships, in which only a few have lasted more then 2 or so years. I become close with people rather quickly, and find myself pouring my heart to them before I am even 100% sure that they can be trusted. It takes me the majority of said friendship to figure out that I am giving WAY more than I am receiving. It took me a long time to come to this conclusion- believing you are not getting what you deserve (within reason) from a relationship, DOES NOT MAKE YOU SELFISH. Wanting more for yourself does not make you greedy. Craving a two sided relationship where both parties are having their needs met IS NOT too much to ask for.
If your relationships cannot handle you when you are at your lowest, then Gosh Dammit, they don’t deserve you when you are on top of the world. YOU deserve to have relationships that have a blast with you when your life is at a great point and know when to comfort you and to allow you to confide in them when you believe you have hit rock
bottom.
Take the following bullets into consideration:
1. You are an amazing person. Therefore, only those who are truly wondrous and spectacular deserve to be in your life.
2. “Friends” who make you feel like shit directly or indirectly over and over again, aren’t someone you (a beautiful soul) need to be around.
3. Friends, Family, Lovers, Etc. who cannot accept who YOU are (how you act, speak, dress, what you are interested in, etc.) should not have the acceptance from you into your life.
4. We all have limited time on this earth, share it with those who care.
5. You are SO WORTH LOVING, Have people in your life who remind you of that.

Friends, eliminate those from your life who do not have your best interest and happiness in mind.
We ALL deserve so much more.

I love you all and want to hear from you! Thoughts, problems, reviews, etc. I want to hear them all!

Jshepherd637@gmail.com

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So Worth Loving Shindig!

Tonight I was more than excited to attend a shindig hosted by So Worth Loving.
I met up with old friends and even had the pleasure of meeting a new one, whom I had been speaking to via text and social media for several months. Shout out to So Worth Loving and Taproom Coffee for hosting this wonderful event.
The founder of So Worth Loving, Eryn Erickson, whom I admire greatly, gave me some very important advice tonight: “No matter the level of your anxiety, you are never alone.” Of course, SWL is all about promoting how there is always someone available for you that can love on you and show you your worth, but hearing it from her, an idol of mine, allowed me to fully get into gear. My anxiety cripples me at time, leaving me short of breath with a face covered in tears and longing for absolution. It is gonna be tough my friends, to get this through your precious minds, but we can so do this!
Ever since my finding of SWL and its massive following in 2013, I have admired it’s message. Tonight, I felt more connected to this company than ever. When speaking to Eryn of high school, we came to the conclusion that high school flat out sucks and that it’s okay to hurt and to not be okay.
That is what SWL is all about, having a community of broken people, who strive to love on the broken.
There were laughs, smiles, and a whole lot of hugging, which makes any night enjoyable, but the SWL crew made tonight oh so special for dozens of loving people (loving on coffee and people!)
I shared conversations tonight with a variety of people, from fashion majors to famous authors, which shows the diversity of the SWL community.
I came home tonight with passion in my soul and a rad new tee from SWL!

So tonight friends, put down your razor blades, step down from the scale, quit self-medicating, and take a deep breath. We are worth so much more then tearing ourselves down.
We are SO WORTH LOVING.

IT IS SO WORTH IT

I started this blog in June 2014, throwing huge parts of my struggles onto the internet for anyone to see. Over my past 5 or so blog posts, I’ve been using information that I gather throughout my day an incorporating those into a blog post. Today, I figured I would take a turn and go back towards making my blog posts most personal. Because after all, I am still a huge work in progress.
I constantly ask myself this dark question: “Is my life even worth it anymore?” I lay in bed at night, drowning in my own anxiety, my own depression, my own pain. I have the best support system anyone could ask for, and I know that I can turn to that system whenever I need help. However, if you’re reading this and you suffer with any mental disorder, you understand the fear, the near impossibility, of reaching out and saying that you’re struggling. I look back a years time, reading old tweets, old journal entries, old texts, and realize how truly negative I was in every single aspect of my life. Every conversation was “I’m too fat” “I’m too ugly” and it ruined some of the best things that ever happened to me within my life. I ruined a relationship that had made me happier than I ever been (Or so I thought. How could I have been happy while I was so self-conscious?) and I lost a huge chunk of my life by focusing on everything that was going wrong in my life. Now, although I don’t center my life about my weight or how I look (because honestly who the hell gives a shit anymore. I’m a senior in high school, it’s lucky if I can make it out the door in the morning, much less look cute or worry about what I’m eating.) I am constantly concerned with the progress on the road to happiness I have made (or haven’t made). I miss everything about my junior year of high school. Relationships, trips for choir, our spring musical. Although I have ALL of those things ahead of my for my senior year, everything seems to be different. I’ve made different mistakes, a lot of my friends graduated, and I have to focus on my future. I don’t feel like my life is happy. When I get up in the morning, I am upset. I don’t want to wake up most mornings and I certainly do not want to face the world. That’s anxiety. It’s something I suffer with, and it’s something I am always going to suffer with until I find away to just not give a damn. But that’s the thing about anxiety, you can’t just throw away things that are on your mind, because they consume you. Every negative though I have, consumes my entire body, my movement, my facial expressions, my singing, my everything. I used to be so good at hiding what I was feeling, but now, it reads all over my face, and I have no way of hiding what I am going through (Thus me posting about it).
I guess the point of my going through that entire rant for you is to explain the importance of perserverance, the importance to get yourself out of bed in the morning and face the world, because without doing that, how will you ever have a chance of happiness? Without facing your problems, without me facing my anxiety, how will I ever get better? If I don’t try, how will I have a great senior year?
Those nights that we lay in bed and wish that we wouldn’t wake up in the morning, have got to be only temporary. This won’t be forever. But for now, it is something that we are going to have to live with. We’re going to have depressing thoughts, and those thoughts are going to consume our minds for a while, but we have to push through.
Why, you ask?
1. Life is beautiful
2. Sunshine is so much more wonderful that the ceiling of your bedroom.
3. You and I are So Worth Loving

Friends, anxiety is a bitch.
Anxiety is that bitch in high school telling you that you aren’t worthy.
Telling you that you don’t fit in.
Telling you that you can’t do it anymore.
But guess what?
Bitches ain’t shit but hoes and tricks.
Think about it.
Anxiety is nothing but a bunch of sick tricks and lies.
Our anxiety will not defeat us.
Our anxiety is what is of no value.
We, on the other hand, have SO much value

So tonight, when you’re laying in bed and thinking: Is my life really worth it?
Remind yourself of this blog post. Remind yourself how much you have to look forward to in your life. Remind yourself that you are so loved.
WE can do this.
And WE can do this together.

Reach out to me:

Send me an email, I would love to hear your story.
Friends are wonderful, especially when you have common struggles.
JShepherd637@gmail.com