Eastern philosophy that I learned in Thailand that can make you a better person but you have to own it and follow it 24 seven.

• Do not destroy life.

• Do not take what is not given you.

• Do not commit adultery.

• Tell no lies and deceive no one.

• Do not become intoxicated. It’s not realistic in the western world but alcohol should never be taken even in celebration. If you want to be the best but that as an individual choice.

• Eat temperately and not at all in the afternoons. This does not apply if you have an eating disorder. If you have no eating conditions that are harmful. I have been trying a routine of intermediate fasting.

This is probably the hardest one for people to do specially when it comes to a loved one or something you have no control over

Worrying is a waste of time because worrying itself is your mind’s attempt to deal with an imaginary future situation. Since you can only deal (cope) with an event that is happening now, in the present, it’s a waste of time to attempt to feel better by thinking about what may or may not happen in the future.

Speaking to the Water with Pat McCabe – YouTube

I remember vividly my father reading me books at night as a child. The way he emphasized every reaction of each of the characters in my stories while reading in a smooth uninterrupted rhythm. I remember being asked to read aloud for the first time in class, and constantly getting stuck on a word. From a very young age I built an anxiety around speaking out loud or reading aloud around anyone. No matter how hard I tried to say a sentence that sounded perfect in my head, it would always come out stuttered. I struggled making friends throughout grade school, because of my fear of being picked on or bullied because of my disability. My confidence and my entire mood were dramatically affected because I truly felt I would never be normal and get the right words like everyone else around me. I fell into depression in my teenage years and became a loner. People would whisper hurtful things about me in class, but I did not even care at this point. I was already my own worst enemy and no one was harder on me than myself.

I sought the help of therapists and counselors to help. Most of them tried hard, but they were no help to me. Until I met one woman who suffered from the same problem as me in her younger years. Her speech was superb. I remember listening to her story for the first time in disbelief because she told it flawlessly. She told me a secret that would become like a miracle cure for me. She told me to practice everything in the mirror before you say it. Think about what you want to say 3 times before it comes out of your mouth. In the beginning this made my responses very long and drawn out, but her story inspired me so much that I kept trying and practicing. Not too long after I was cured. My confidence was back, and I began forming new relationships that I never thought were possible. The heavy weight of anxiety and nervousness around groups soon faded away and I saw life in a new way. I am so hopeful for the future now because I know there is nothing I cannot do.

-Anonymous

The arrival of my baby was the cliché , “the best day of my life”. I fell in love with this little human the moment he took his first breathe out the womb. This immense deep feeling was something I never felt before. Yes, you love your significant other, your parents, family, and friends. For me, nothing could even come close to how I felt when he laid his little head on me. I knew instantly that I wanted only the best for my baby and that I would love this little human unconditionally.

Little did I know that this love would be cut short 2 months later. I got very sick, where I could not get out of bed. I was diagnosed with the Flu and was then was put on medication. My mother and sister stayed with my baby, so he would not get sick. My breast milk dried up and I felt like the worse mother in the world. I was advised not to breastfeed my baby until I was fully recovered. Mothers are supposed to provide for their children and here I was, I could not feed my own child. Through out my pregnancy I read books and scavenger the internet for the bests ways to raise a newborn. I chose the path of breastfeeding, as this was the most natural way for a newborn to gain the nutrients needed. As I pumped out the breast milk and threw it away, each day began to feel like torture. Soon I did not want to hold my baby. I felt like a failure and that I was an unfit mother.

Postpartum depression set in quickly. It changed my entire mood, my sleep schedule, my eating habits, and my whole life. My doctor and family desperately looked for ways to help me. Some treatments were sleeping pills, which I would never try. Other treatments were seeing a therapist, which helped to get a different perspective of what I was going through. Each day was different, some were great, and others were rough.

I eventually was cleared from my doctor to start physical activities. I signed up for a yoga class with my sister. Within 5 minutes, I started to cry and ran out, my sister follows me. She hugged me in silence as I continued to sob. She looked at me and said you can do this! I washed my face and went back to the class. I stared taking yoga classes every week. This helped me calm my nerves and clear my mind. As a former ballerina, yoga has allowed me to reconnect with myself through the poses. I began to feel full and happy again.
Post-partum depression is real. I realized I was not a failure as a mother. I just needed a little help, support, and guidance.

I am writing this story today in support of the Concussion, Pain & Mental Health Awareness organization, otherwise known as www.CPMHA.com. as well as to honor my daughter, Erin, who took her life at 15. I never thought anything like this could happen in my life. After the initial shock, I woke up one day thinking, how could this be my life? How did this happen? Maybe this resonates with you as well, or someone you know.

This is a story that is becoming all to common in today’s world, suicide by our youth. As I attend & support our Palm Beach County Survivors of Suicide, I see the effects first hand and hear the stories of the families. Recently, I heard a statistic that hit me hard, it is getting worse, not better. The # of suicides in girls ages 11-15 has tripled since 2012. It is my wish that Erin’s life and our family story can help others outsmart this phenomenon.

I want to start by giving a brief background to show that childhood factors play a part in our future decisions. I never felt that I could be myself amongst my family, so I played at friend’s houses & put my efforts into school activities & sports, Cheerleading, Student Council and the National Honor Society.

I had a realization at a young age that I had a gift for noticing behavior patterns and went on to pursue a degree in Early Childhood Development. Even with this background, I could not save my daughter. Suicide is insidious and crosses all age, race and economic barriers.

Right now, I feel so strongly that we must be aware of our greatest future resource, our children. These are not easy times to parent, especially with social media, children living in a one parent household or a blended family home. Parental Alienation is also on the rise along with bullying & sports concussions.

After I married, I waited a number of years to have children. I wanted my husband’s career to be stable and lucrative, as well as our marriage. I wanted to be a “Stay at Home” Mom and raise our children.

When my 1st daughter was about 2, I knew that this marriage was not working. I experienced a lot of emotional abuse & I did not know how to rise above it. I was taught to be a victim and I found myself becoming depressed and having feelings of unworthiness. Just as I was about to leave I found myself pregnant with Erin. I was really afraid to leave for a number of reasons so I kept setting mini goals before I would file. For example, I’ll leave when Erin is out of diapers, then I’ll leave when she goes to pre-school, etc., but Erin was a very difficult and conflicted child and parenting was exhausting and stressful. I couldn’t put my finger on how to help her. I sought professional help for her in spite of my former husband’s efforts to block it. I knew there was something wrong, but no one could diagnosis it at the time. I even had Erin court ordered for counseling, but she was told by her father not to share her feelings and she didn’t.

As a mother, my intuition was very strong. I could not shake the feeling even when professionally trained therapists could not find a diagnosis in the DSM book, that there was something wrong ,however I began to doubt myself. It takes a lot of tenacity to stay on this journey, but her behavior was proof of a problem.

Several days before my daughter took her life, I went to the Adolescent Psychologist, that Erin had just started seeing. I told them that I had an overwhelming sense that something was going to happen and we had to do something. I was adamant & extremely worried. The receptionist said that there was nothing we could do. We had no evidence that would support Baker acting her (she wasn’t on drugs) & they would just release her, but I could not shake this feeling. I had nowhere else to turn and my former husband refused to communicate, so I waited it out on pins & needles. I had exhausted all means that I knew of at the time and I just turned to prayer. This was between 1996 – 2002 and there were not that many resources available that I could find and this subject was pretty taboo.

Then, the worst thing that can happen to a parent happened to me:
My daughter, Erin took her life. I remember getting a call to come to my ex’s home right away. He never called or communicated, so I knew something was very wrong. Erin had hung herself in her dad’s home while he was home. She had been acting out that night & wanted to meet her friends, but was not on drugs or cutting or anything we know of. Her dad told her something that she didn’t like and she went into the garage, found string and sat in her room braiding string to hang herself. To this day, that just amazes me that she spent all that time braiding string to be strong enough & that he was home.

Here are some lessons that I know now from my circumstances, however, each story is unique:

Lesson # 1 – Trust your gut & heart no matter what someone says. I could do that now, but I didn’t trust enough then. Even professionals are wrong. Seek out the support team that you feel is the best you can find and trust them. Suicide is unpredictable & oftentimes there are no warning signs. In fact, the victim often is happier and throws us off prior to because they make up their mind & feel relief. I know that was what Erin did and I hear it over & over again. We thought she had turned a corner and was settling down.

Lesson # 2 – Put the oxygen mask on & take care of yourself (this is easier said then done, I know, but being aware that you are helping your child when you do this makes it easier, even with sleepless nights) Eat healthy, mind your thoughts, exercise and meditate. When I practiced this, it was easier to cope.

Lesson # 3 – No Matter What, put differences aside and work together for the benefit of your children, (even in healthy relationships there can be disagreements on how to help your child) … you are risking their lives. It is a game of Russian Roulette – it may not be death, but it will affect their future. Get your ego out of the way. Conscious Parenting is a great skill & tool to use when parenting.

Lesson # 4 – Have courage to do what you need to do. It is not heroic staying in a bad relationship for the sake of your children. I was so beaten down by the time that I did leave, that I couldn’t make the best decisions and was depleted. I also think that I was afraid to leave because I didn’t know how my husband would respond and what he would do. I think many women face this, especially with a challenging child. Another contributing factor at that time was that, the norm was to “Stay and Make it Work at Any Cost.” I believe staying too long cost my daughter her life. The circumstances kept getting worse.

Lesson # 5 – Keep searching for the right information. We didn’t have the internet back then. I even went to a Professional conference for Psychologists and Educators that my therapist recommended trying to find help for Erin. I think that she might have been Biopolar (no one talked about that then) or had something called Oppositional Defiance Disorder. We will never know for sure.

Lesson # 6 – Reach out to find others going through this, you can’t do it alone. There were not many support groups back in those day. We didn’t have the internet. Now, the world is available to you, even internationally. Find groups to support you. I found a 12step program & church groups, but not much was available back then. More things are becoming available today for us. Just today, I saw an initiative being put together by Deepak Chopra: neveralone.love It looks great.

Lesson # 7 – Be discerning who you listen to, everyone wants to give their opinion. It is often hard for people to believe that this could be happening, especially if they are in healthy family situations. You can get judged that it is you and you are crazy and this really affects your efforts and judgement.

I hope that the story of my daughter Erin can save even one life & bring more awareness to this issue. Thank you for allowing me to share my journey & my daughter with you. — Barbara

Erin’s life put me on a different career path with a mission to help others:
I focus on a Full Spectrum of Health: physical wellbeing, emotional wellbeing and mindful practices. I specialize in the aftermath of Trauma, Trauma Recovery practices, mindfulness and Activating your Body for Health. I am a speaker, I conduct private sessions for Trauma Recovery as well as workshops to help mitigate Trauma as it is occurring. I also have a Global reach in a new paradigm of health, Nutrigenomics, the practice of Activating your body vs Supplementing your body and how Nutrition affects your genes. It all matters.

Having played soccer for over 13 years, it was all I ever really knew growing up. As a child most of my time was spent at soccer fields, whether it was for my games, training, or watching my brothers play. Everybody always tells you, “It’s great that you have a huge passion for the sport”, but nobody really addresses the fact that the pressure can really get to you after some time. You push and push your body until you reach a point where you just don’t function the same. The constant pushing not only messes with your physical well being, but it all takes a
toll on your mental state.

Having to constantly push yourself because your team is counting on you and having pressure from your parents, eventually leads to a burnout. You work so hard growing up in order to earn a spot on a collegiate team, and you feel as if one of your deepest desires has been fulfilled. However, then you realize that this is only going to intensify over the course of the next few years. It then hits you that you are burning out. You try your best but there’s only so much you can give before you realize that you have to stop.

Having to say goodbye to the sport that you had played for most of your life is devastating. There comes a point where you truly understand that even though you still really like the port, you simply just cannot perform at the level you once used to. I was going to defer for a season and join in the spring, but as time passed it became clear that my life was headed towards a different direction and even if I wanted to play soccer again, I simply could not. I had more things to focus on and realized that soccer was my past and it was time to move forward.

by Cara Puscasiu

Ever since I was little I could remember being too afraid to wear shorts because my legs were too skinny. I would look at my stomach in the mirror and pinch my skin, convincing myself it was fat and reiterating that my proportions would never be ideal. It wasn’t until I became an athlete that I had the confidence to wear shorts to school. My legs were defined with muscle now, I wasn’t a “stick” anymore, as people liked to call me. I thought that I had overcome all my body image issues but that was just the beginning of falling into a deeper hole that would take over my life. It started with fabricated diets that I created. I went sugar-free for months straight, I wouldn’t even eat ketchup. Then came the ‘all vegetable and white meat diets’, no carbs, no steak, no salt. Then came the ‘cleansing’ teas, made of apple cider vinegar and lemons and ginger that burned my stomach to shreds. Then came the laxatives, the desire to feel empty. My favorite feeling was to go to sleep hungry. If I felt a rumble in my stomach and lightheadedness, I could go to sleep peacefully. While my diets changed every few months, one thing never changed, the pinch of my skin on my stomach. It felt like a portable measuring tool that was with me whenever I needed to remind myself how well I was doing or how much more I needed to restrict.

My junior year of high school I made the impactful decision to send myself to a sports and education preparatory performance high school and stay for two years as a boarding student. Without the constant support from my parents who helped me eat and stay on top of my meals, I knew the control of my body was now completely up to me. Unfortunately, this mindset was the opposite of what you might optimistically think I wanted to do. The control was now mine, no one could tell me what to eat. My schedule was jarring. School was from 7AM to 1PM and after that, practice from 1:30PM to 5:30PM. This wasn’t good enough for me, though. I went running from 5:30AM to 6:30AM to burn extra calories, which would then come from the one coffee that I would drink before going to class. After class, I’d run to the cafeteria and get cucumbers and a piece of chicken. To hold myself over, I would sometimes scoop a little bit of tuna or pasta into my plate as a reward. Then I went to practice for 4 hours and then stayed longer in the trainer’s room to do ab workouts. I ended the day with a pinch to my stomach skin and a rumbling tummy.

What were silly diets escalated to calorie counting, every single day. I would aim for a net gain of 1,000 calories a day. This included the subtraction of calories burned during three hours of practice, one hour of conditioning, half an hour of abs and one hour of running. If I am being realistic with myself, I was probably only storing around 500 calories a day, not a thousand because I made sure to count my calories on myfitnesspal higher than I was eating and calculate my exercise hours lower just to make sure I wasn’t ‘cheating’ myself. I turned to our nutritionist who would come talk to my team every couple weeks. I asked her in a suspicious way, how I could become lean and skinny. She didn’t understand this cry for help, she genuinely thought I just wanted to be educated on lean meat to keep myself from bloating before matches. My coach overhead this entire conversation and without even knowing my past, he heard my cry for help loud and clear. He sat me down and explained that athletes’ bodies are machines for us. Tennis players are strong, they are broad and they are quick. He sympathized with me, remembering that 30 years ago, my father was his student as well at the same academy, on the same courts, and now he is a marathon runner, 145 pounds, 6 1’, and reminded me that my mom is 95 pounds, with a six pack. These are the two role models I’ve looked to my whole life. He knew me for around 6 months and could already draw these impactful conclusions, he saw me and he heard me without me saying a word.

I do not want to keep describing my story and giving ideas of what an eating disorder should be like. The best part of this story is the recovery. My coach decided I had to meet with the nutritionist once a week. She decided to chart my eating, (send her pictures of every meal, etc), long story short, after a quick few months, I got sent to the school psychologist. It’s important to remember that nutritionists tell us what to eat to be healthy, eating disorders are your brain telling you how little to eat. Eating disorders are scary because you lose sight of what is normal. Your mind is so convincing, it made me realize that my brain is all I had and I was losing my battle to it. No one anyone could ever tell me would help, it was up to me to fight harder. You hear “but you’re so skinny!” and “you shouldn’t feel insecure!” all the damn time but that doesn’t help, no words of ‘comfort’ help. You have to believe those things within yourself to make a real change and you have to be willing to make a change. It’s so scary, it’s so painful but over time, you will see, it’s worth it.

I am not perfect today, but I am aware of the person I used to be. I still catch myself minimizing the severity of my mental health. If I were in my own shoes a few years ago, I would have wanted to know that there is a much happier side of life. This was not a battle with my body, it was one with my mind. It is not as black and white as it is portrayed to be in the media when we hear about “eating disorders”. Women athletes are put under so much pressure to be who the world wants us to be, as well as being high-level athletes. I know now, that I would rather feel strong, no matter who the dysmorphia is in the mirror. When I was weak, I couldn’t perform my sport the way I knew I could. Winning is not just on the field, or the court, or the track, it’s in your mind. I hope if anyone who is reading this is battling the same battle, just know, you are not alone and that there is a world of so much more happiness than numbers and mirrors. It may take some time but winning is worth it, I promise.

Have you ever heard a song you like so much that you play it over and over again until you want to press skip whenever it comes on? Well, imagine listening to that same song over and over again everyday for twelve years.

The sport of tennis became this kind of song for me. From the first time I picked up a racket at six years old, I fell in love with the sport. I wanted to dedicate my life to it, I wanted to become the greatest, I thought I had found my purpose. As the years went on, more and more days came where I wanted to skip the song, but never the less I kept it on my playlist and kept listening. Don’t get me wrong, even when you get tired of your favorite song, you still love the song, you just don’t want to listen to it everyday.

Twelve years later, I am all I’ve always wanted to be: an NCAA Division 1 tennis player. But now that I’m here I see it isn’t how I always imagined it. I love my team, I love my coaches, I love competing, but it isn’t the love I once had. Most days it takes a tremendous amount of will and mental effort to get myself out on the court, to get myself to want to be there. A wave of dread sweeps over me before every practice, and I question if I can make it through the next three years, but I remind myself how good four years of a Division 1 sport looks on a Law School application. It’s hard because even though I may be tired of this song, listening to it reminds me why I loved it in the first place, but most days the struggle is simply hitting the play
button.