Conversations with Cole

Alright folks, so I have been wanting to document my newest fitness journey for a little while now, but I didn’t want to jump the gun considering I am still VERY new. 

For those of you who don’t know, I drank the damn kool-aid. I joined a Crossfit gym. Crossfit has always been something that I have deeply desired to try but was too nervous to step out of my comfort zone on my own to do it. Last year my rugby team started winter training at local Crossfit gym and unfortunately due to my work schedule I was unable to participate. I was super bummed because I thought that was my perfect opportunity to try it out without all the awkwardness and anxiety that would follow. In the meantime I joined your regular Blink fitness and continued to lift as I had been for the past few years. Fast forward to the pandemic when gyms closed and I partially trained for a half marathon until I gave up. At the time I wasn’t really doing any exercising for about three months besides an occasional run here and there.

I vividly remember going to Maine with Vincent at the end of July and how horribly uncomfortable I was feeling with my body. I was so insecure, anxious and irritable and it was hard for it not to effect my trip. After recently going out for dinner and drinks with some teammates, who were all signed up at the same Crossfit gym, I had decided it was finally time for me to give it a shot. I remember telling Sam that I wanted to take my first class and how nervous I was to show up. I got there early, which is very unlike me because if you know me you know that I am literally always late to everything because of who I am as a person. I sat in my car in full panic mode until Sam and Chelsea arrived and I wouldn’t walk in without them. I met my coach and he was super friendly which made things a bit easier but then he proceeded to literally torture me in the form of exercise. I couldn’t even perform the entire workout, I took ten thousands breaks and actually felt like I was dying. I will NEVER forget my first class. It was the biggest ego check I have ever had in my entire life. I signed up for a part time monthly membership right after. 

It took me a few weeks to get comfortable with going to classes that my teammates weren’t in. Crossfit is intimidating as hell. You should see the babes at my gym. They’re so fucking bad-ass it’s hard not to be intimidated by their strength. It was about three weeks after my first class that I decided I wanted to sign up for an unlimited membership. 

I instantly fell in love with the entire sport. In our current world rugby is non-existent and that’s a huge piece of my life that’s missing. There are so many similarities between the two that make me understand why people who love Crossfit, love Crossfit. 

One of the most special pieces of rugby is the weaving of competition and sportsmanship. In Crossfit, the athletes perform with that same mindset. Everyone wants to be the fastest, strongest, finishes with the most reps in the AMRAP WOD athlete at the gym when it comes time for class. But the second they finish their last rep, before they can even catch their breath, they become your personal cheering squad. They won’t stop until you’re finished and they push you to get it done even when you don’t want too. They’re always there to encourage you, pat you on the back even when you fail and to offer their share of advice and knowledge. It’s an incredible feeling to be surrounded by so many supportive and uplifting individuals in an environment that is so challenging both mentally and physically. 

I have always grappled with the unhealthy habit of comparing my performance to the performance of someone better than me. And even though between the coaches and athletes at my gym there are always people rooting for me, it’s hard not to look around and feel inadequate sometimes. Similar to most feats in life, in Crossfit what goes on in your mind determines how you perform physically. There are days where the last thing I wanted to do was show up to class and by the end of the workout I was riding this post WOD high that made me feel invincible. Then in contrast to that there are other days where I can’t wait to step foot into my little box and I struggle to get through the workout. At times I lack the ability to get my mind to come to grips with the fact that success is not and never will be linear. I don’t give myself enough credit and forget to acknowledge the fact that I am literally brand spankin’ new to this sport and four months is NOTHING. My brain thrives on constant reassurance, ask my coach Mike he can attest to that. I am so obsessive with executing each movement perfectly that I ask ten thousand questions even if I know what the answer is and I get anxious when I start to doubt my performance. I even get so nervous about staying after class to do extra skill work that I can only do it when Shannon is around to take me under her wing. It’s incredibly frustrating and even though I am able to recognize these that these obsessive, lack of self confidence thoughts are inside my head, it’s sometimes too difficult to rid myself of them.

Despite all of this, if we were to look back on my first month to now, I have made some serious progress. Each day brings a new challenge, a new goal and a new lesson. Like rugby, there is always room to learn and improve. One of the main reasons I love Crossfit is because it pushes me to do things I would have normally deemed impossible for myself. There was a time in my life where rugby was considered impossible in my life, and now here I am ten years later a co-founder of Long Island Women’s Rugby. On my best days at the gym I feel that same sense of empowerment, confidence and straight up bad bitch vibes that I get from being a female rugby player. 

Another huge piece of rugby is the community that you become a part of after joining. I have seen many marriages, families, and life long friendships form between members of the rugby community. My life and who I am as a woman today is because of the people I met through rugby. I see that same sense of camaraderie at my gym. It’s funny because my 63 year old mother doesn’t really understand what I mean when I say I’m going to the gym. I’ll be gone for three hours and she thinks I’m at your average LA Fitness with a bunch of strangers lifting weights. One day she literally called me to see if everything was okay because I was there for so long. I have met so many people in such a short amount of time that I consider my friends. I genuinely enjoy their company and the more time that goes on and the more I get to know everyone the more I want to continue to come back. It is so important to surround yourself with people who make you feel good. You can do Crossfit anywhere, but part of the reason why I love it so much is because of my gym and the people in it. 

It’s funny because as I reflect on my Crossfit journey I am reminded of my freshman year of rugby. When my roommate at the time, (now currently my best friend of 10 years), wanted us to join rugby I was too damn scared to get out of the car when we pulled up to practice. I made her lead the way and do all the talking while I stood there in silence. Who I was when I joined was completely different than the girl I was when I graduated. Freshman year of college was hard for me. I was homesick and I wasn’t sure being so far away from my family was what I wanted. I actually applied to schools on Long Island and was ready to transfer back home but there was something holding me back. Sure I could go home and play rugby for another school with a brand new team but something about that just didn’t feel right to me. I get that same feeling when I think about moving away from Black Bear. 

My Mom took off from work today and while I slept in and watched an episode of Grey’s Anatomy until noon, she decided today was the day she would clean my brother’s room. After he passed we did all of his laundry and put his clothes in a laundry basket in his closet. His girlfriend at the time was still living with us so the room basically became hers. She left awhile back and on his first birthday in Heaven I had to urge to spend the day in his room. I cleaned as much as I could and made a memorial altar on his dresser. My Dad prefers to keep his door open, but otherwise his room doesn’t get much use. It’s been sixteen months since he passed and his car still sits in the driveway, his phone is still on our phone bill and everything he owned is still in his room. 

A few days ago I decided to use his dresser for all of my extra clothes that I don’t use everyday because I don’t have enough room for my belongings downstairs. I offered to help my Mom clean up Joe’s room today and she told me she wanted to put his clothes away properly. After I told her I had put my clothes in there she decided that she could just empty her drawers for my brothers clothes instead. I wasn’t going to let that happen so I told her I would take mine back downstairs and help her put my brother’s stuff away. 

It’s very difficult for me to bite my tongue when it comes to my Mom and her decisions. We have spent the last five years or so disagreeing on how things should be done in our home, mostly pertaining to my brother and his addiction. Since he passed away I’ve learned to be more supportive of what she wants to do. One thing I realized in his last year of life was that the situation is different for me because he’s not my child, he’s my brother. It was easier for me to be more hard headed and strict when it came to how to deal with his addiction whereas for my mother her instinct was to protect her child at all costs. I would tell her to kick him out or call the cops and take these drastic measures to try and set him straight and she would do the opposite. I’m not a mother, but one day I wish to be. I love kids, and there are times where I love the two toddlers I babysit so much it feels like they could be mine. 

We both lost the same person, but our grief is different. It infuriates me to no end that Joe’s honky tonk ‘98 Jeep with four flat tires sits in the driveway and my mother refuses to junk it. Every time I come home and I have to parallel park or make a u-turn to find a spot on the street I wanna walk inside and scream. For me, its just a car, it’s useless and it would’ve been gone a year ago if I had the choice. For my mom, it means so much more and the act of getting rid of it triggers this emotion that only she can understand. 

I tend to think with emotion over logic, and in emotionally triggering situations I often respond instantly without taking a second to even breathe between thoughts. I’ve slowly been learning how to take that second before lashing out. I’ve realized the importance of time and how it helps to clear your head thats full of thoughts fueled stritcly by emotion. When it comes to my mother and my brothers belongings, I clearly have different opinions on what we should do. I have a bunch of my brother’s clothes that I wear on a daily basis. I see no issue with keeping SOME of his things but to put his room back together as if he’s living in it just doesn’t make sense to me. She asked me to set up his Xbox because she has no idea how to do it, and when I finished I told her that the wires we didn’t use were for the broken speakers and things on his desk. She refused to throw them away because he liked those speakers and insisted on keeping them in a drawer in his room. I can’t fight her no matter how much I disagree. 

It’s hard for me to determine whether or not just letting her do what she wants is helping her heal or just enabling her to live in this trauma. I’m not a licensed therapist, and I’ve never been in this situation before, but I do know that I want to do whatever I can to help my mother. Arguing about what to do with my brother’s belongings is the last thing I want, but I’m afraid if I just turn my back my mom will never move forward and be stuck in the grief of losing my brother forever. 

Her mom mind has such a hard time of differentiating the terms moving forward and moving on and I feel like she thinks that people have just moved on because they don’t call all the time and we don’t see his friends anymore or we don’t cry everyday, but that’s just not the case. I will NEVER move on or get over the loss of my brother, but my loss is different than hers and that’s just one part of grief that makes it so complicated. We all lost Joe, but to us as individuals we lost someone different. That goes for my siblings and I as well. We are simultaneously grieving together and alone because no matter how much we shared as a family each of our relationships with Joe were one of a kind. 

I spent some time with my Dad today and while we were in the car he asked me about my brother at the exact moment his name and face were floating through my mind. The weather has been unbelievable the past week and everyone has been taking full advantage of it. We were sitting at a red light on Sunrise Highway when a man on a speed bike pulled up next to us. I immediately thought of my brother and how he would be enjoying the weather the same way. I thought of his bike just sitting in our shed for 15 months and what we were going to do with it. I thought of the times he was a complete jackass on that thing and how our neighbors hated the noise. Simultaneously with my thoughts, my Dad looked at me and said his name. The car ride had been silent beforehand and it gave me chills that our thoughts were synced. One year ago today my family rescued our sweet little Jackson and welcomed him into our hearts. I sent a group text of cute photos of our good boy this morning captioned, “Happy Gotcha Day, Jackson!” My Dad is a sucker for my dogs and he loved it. He looked and me and said “How do you think Joey would have felt about Jackson?”.

We have been a dog family my entire life. My parents had dogs together before they had kids. My brother’s last birthday with us was an unfortunate one. Our childhood dog, Max, who we had gotten when he was just 8 weeks old, passed away that day. Max was 13 when he left us and it was the first time my brother and I had experienced the loss of a pet. It flat out sucked. I vividly remember us all sitting around Max as he took his last breath and then the four of us cried together, wailing in a pain that at the time we thought would be the worst day of our present lives. My brother was so heartbroken he didn’t want to celebrate his birthday, and his Carvel ice cream cake sat in the freezer until it was garbage. It didn’t take long for Joe to start asking my parents for another puppy. He was determined to get one with or without my Mom’s approval. He would send me photos and videos and beg me to go with him and just bring a puppy home without telling anyone. 

We got Jackson on a whim. It was a Saturday afternoon, I had just finished playing in one of my last rugby games of the season and I was so exhausted I called out of work. I got a text from my brother’s girlfriend that there was an adoption event at Petco and she sent me a video of Jackson. I knew he was supposed to be mine from the very second I saw him. I asked my Mom as more of a courtesy, fully aware of the fact that I was going to get him regardless of her answer, but without hesitation she said yes. Fast forward a few hours and he was ours. 

I joined a few sibling grief groups on Facebook a few months ago and while I don’t post often, I do take the time to read other people’s stories. Everyone is so supportive and I have found it comforting in times where I feel alone in my grief. I told my boyfriend recently that I feel like there’s an unspoken club for people who have lost their siblings, and when I interact with these people, even if we have never spoken before, it’s my duty to be there for them because I can truly understand what they’re going through. Essentially these groups on Facebook are the members of this unfortunate club. 

Grief is so complex. I read a comment on a post earlier today where a woman had mentioned that she was in a state of “grief fog” for the first year or so after her sibling had passed. This particular phrase caught my eye because it made me really think about my own grief over this past year. I cannot, in any way, shape, or form grasp the concept that it has been three weeks short of a year since that day. The closer it gets to his “anniversary”, which by the way is a word I am reluctant to use when talking about the day of his death because anniversaries are normally days to be celebrated for the proud moments in life and this is not that, the harder it is for me to understand. The more I think about it the more it feels like I’ve been living in an alternate universe watching my life pass me by as I stand still trying to become a part of my new reality. It feels so strange and I’m not sure it really makes sense to you unless you can relate. I feel like I can’t even remember what has happened in the past eleven months. I have definitely been in a state of grief fog. I still think my mind is in shock. Like if I really sit alone with my thoughts and try to accept that MY brother is dead... like WHAT!!!!! It makes me want to vomit. I get so anxious and I just can’t wrap my head around it. 

Does grief fog ever go away? I don’t really know how I’m ever going to get my mind to accept the fact that he’s gone. What really boggles my mind is how time literally stops for no one. My brother passed away in the early morning on a Sunday. His funeral mass and the last time I saw his face in person, touched his skin and told him I loved him was the following Friday. Only two days later I was back at work Monday through Friday and never looked back. Did I make a mistake going back to work so early? Should I have quit my job right then and there and just taken as much time as I needed to really let it sink in and get my head right? I’m not sure anyone has the true answers on how to grieve. There is not a day that goes by that I don’t think of my sweet baby brother. It’s so confusing because everything feels so normal, but it’s not. Things feel the same but they’re not and everything is actually so different. I feel lost. Most days I think I feel fine, but do I actually? Or am I just forced to keep moving without recognizing my emotions and processing my trauma and grief? Life has literally continued on as if nothing ever even happened and I have no choice but to get up everyday and go to work and do the dishes and wash my clothes. 

I hate the fact the time keeps passing because it hasn’t made anything feel easier, in fact I think the worst is yet to come. People say the first year is the hardest, but I’m not sure what to expect. Are people even going to care or empathize with me after so much time has gone by? I often find myself wishing to go back to that week after he passed. It’s ironic really, but I think it’s because time actually did stop for Joe. My family was never alone, and the only thing that mattered was for us to be together and to make sure my brother was put to rest peacefully. Everyone who loved my brother and my family was by our side unconditionally, and then the week ended and everyone had to resume their normal lives, as if it was that simple. 

hey hey hey. I’m back! After some time off I am ready to get back into my writing. A lot has been going on in the world these past few months I don’t even know where my mind is at half the time. Time is such a wild concept to me. I went from working 6 days a week to unemployed overnight and during those three months of unemployment it felt like it was never going to end. The day I got back to work I felt like I hadn’t ever left and I wanted to go back to being unemployed. Now I’m back to working 50+ hours a week with only one day off a week, usually Sundays, if I’m lucky. 

Work is exhausting. Whether the restaurant is over packed or slow and steady, I want to crawl into a ball and die at the end of every shift. It’s so draining that on my day off I usually don’t want to do anything but lay in bed. Today I woke up at 10 o’clock after getting home after 1 a.m. this morning from my Saturday night shift, and I didn’t get out of bed for good until 4 p.m. I physically couldn’t do it.  Guess what? That’s okay. Sometimes your body needs rest. Your value and worth isn’t defined by your productivity. I deserve to give my mind, body and soul the rest it needs to carry me through each and every day. It took me breakfast, one two hour nap, and dinner to finally get the energy and motivation to get out of bed and do some things around the house. Most of the time, especially when the sun is shinning and it’s a beautiful day outside, I start to feel guilty about spending it lounging around my room. But recently I have to come realize that life is marathon and not a sprint. Instead of pressuring myself to accomplish this gigantic list of things one after another, I set my sites on one task at a time. I put on some records that made me wanna move, and have been slowly completing things one by one. 

After dinner I finally felt ready to take a shower. I took one of those long woman showers where you shave your entire body and deep condition your hair and exfoliate your skin and then cover yourself in coconut oil to be all soft and smooth like a baby. I laid in bed in my towel for awhile until I was ready to do my hair.  I then decided that I wanted to get my body moving a bit so I took the dogs for a walk around the neighborhood, which made all three of us happy. I relaxed in my hammock for a short time after and then I played fetch with Jackson. I feel proud of the things I accomplished this evening. My body feels rested and energized. I don’t feel that sluggish, drained, exhaustion in my bones and I even had the motivation and energy to write this post. 

About a month ago I was Tweeting about how shitty this quarantine was and that if only I had Guitar Hero to keep me occupied I would have nothing to complain about. I vividly remember spending hours upon hours in the summers between 2007 and 2009 rocking out to some of the greatest artists of all time. Honestly Guitar Hero was our religion back then. It is a staple from my childhood that I will never forget. 

For years since graduating high school my brother Joseph and I had been searching for the original game and it’s guitars to relive one of our fondest memories from our youth. We pressed our luck but unfortunately the game we had acquired from friends was broken and it seemed like a lost cause. Not too long ago my brother was able to purchase one wireless guitar and Guitar Hero III but once again we hit a roadblock.  Because of the copyright license on the music in the game it is not cross compatible with the Xbox One console and that is all we had.

One week ago in the midst of demolition of the first floor of my house, I ventured into the attic above the garage for the first time in about a decade. Since the sheet rock has been torn down you can see into the attic from the floor but only the boxes that are stacked to the ceiling. The first thing I found when I climbed up the ladder were my brother and I’s two original guitar controllers from ten years ago. The ones we had been searching for but never found. My immediate reaction was HOLY SHIT!!!!!!! I was so stoked to have found them after all of this time. Soon after, my excitement died down and I felt this overwhelming sorrow. All I wanted to do was tell my brother. I wanted to scream his name, or run up to his room or take a photo and send it to him and tell him that we did it. We finally found what we had been looking for and we were about to embark on a journey to re-create one of our favorite childhood memories. But instead of doing it together, I realized I had to do it alone. I couldn’t tell him the news no matter how badly I wanted too. I was crushed. It was like his death hit me all over again. He’s gone f o r e v e r. There is absolutely nothing in this world that I or anyone can do to let him know. When I think of the permanence of his death I start to panic. The concept of time and the fact that my life may continue for another 60 years without him is just too difficult to wrap my mind around. He should be here. It’s so unnatural to lose a sibling at such a young age like this. I think that’s what makes it so difficult to navigate through, because life isn’t supposed to happen like this. 

Today I set up the game and instantly became emotional. I felt a deep sadness for my brother and the reality of him never getting to enjoy this moment. Grief brings on a lot of different emotions, sometimes all at once. I started to feel anger and began feverishly looking for answers to questions that were spinning inside my head. Why couldn’t we have found them while he was still here? Why did I have to find them at all? This is so unfair, why is it happening to me? One part of my brain is able to think of a sort of silver lining I guess you could say, which I kind of hate using in this situation because the selfish part of my brain thinks there’s no possible way of finding a silver lining in his death. I tried to tell myself that I found this stuff at the exact moment I did to help me remember some amazing childhood memories and moments of happiness that we shared together before things changed. Instead of focusing on his passing and all of the hardship we faced as a family in the years leading up to it, I was able to look back and reminisce with a smile. This is just one of the many memories I will forever cherish from growing up with my brother. I simultaneously feel happiness and sadness because I miss my brother so very much but I am thankful to have shared my life with him. Writing this is difficult, and I am trying my best to hold back my tears. Grief is so fucking hard. 

I hope that my brother was watching over me in the moment that I found the guitars and that he was standing by my side today was I rocked out so freakin’ hard. I was thinking of him the entire time and I don’t think I can play Guitar Hero without thinking of him from now on. Months ago my therapist told me that I needed to let myself feel my grief for my brother. She asked if there were certain things we used to do together that I could do on my own to help me. I drove home a few days later listening to some old school punk rock music that we used to jam too and just let the tears roll. It was hard for me to really think of anything else that we had shared because my mind was so consumed with his passing, but now with this new discovery, I can use this game to help me in times when I am feeling his loss a little extra. 

Sup y’all. Guess whose back and better than ever!!!! I re-downloaded Tik Tok today out of desperation for entertainment in my state of extreme boredom and now I just keep repeating Tik Tok audio tracks in my head. 

I have one of those minds that never stops. My thoughts are always wildly racing and most of the time I don’t even know how they evolve from one thing to the next. I know I’ve mentioned this before but I find that I function my best when my mind is busy. A lot of times when I fall into a deep depressive episode or my anxiety is so debilitating I cannot talk myself out of it I force myself to go to sleep because that is the only way to put my mind to rest. Sometimes that doesn’t even help because I dream so vividly and am prone to nightmares. When I wake up all I wanna do is go back to sleep until it’s over and sometimes it’s so overwhelming I don’t think I will have the strength to push through. 

With the help of therapy, medication and self discipline I have been able to practice and form habits that have been a tremendous help to managing my anxiety. Although I have come a long way from where I was a year ago at this time, I still suffer through episodes of panic and irrationality.

About a month ago I decided to stop taking birth control. I started taking the pill 14 months ago because my period had been so painful that I would spend days in bed and on the floor of the bathroom in agony. I was wrestling with acne, which was something I never really had an issue with before and I was desperate for a solution. Obviously there are a lot of reasons for women to use birth control, and while the one major benefit is prevention of unwanted pregnancy, I was feeling unhappy with the way my body was reacting to the medication. Birth control is full of hormones and we all know what happens naturally when your hormones are out of whack so with the addition of these extra hormones into my body I just wasn’t feeling myself. My mood swings were all over the place and I just felt like even with my little pockets of sunshine that my overall mood and mental state was depressed. 

The mind is the most powerful organ in your entire body. So why isn’t mental health everyone’s number one priority? There is a lot to learn about mental health and in no means am I an expert. But I have been exploring my own mind and working towards creating a healthy mentality to give me the best life I can have. Since I stopped taking birth control I can feel such a difference in my everyday mental state. I feel more balanced, my emotions feel less erratic and overall I feel happier and healthier. In addition to the benefits it has had to my mental health, the physical effects are substantial. 

Obviously birth control was not the root of all evil and my struggle with anxiety and depression is not cured because I decided not to take the pill anymore, but it did have a considerable effect on my preexisting mental health issues and I was able to listen to my body and figure out what works and doesn’t work for me. 

My anxiety has been playing mind tricks with me for years. The first year of my relationship with my current boyfriend Vincent, was more of a nightmare than it was a fairy tale. This relationship was unlike any that I have ever experienced before. It really threw me for a loop. My therapist diagnosed me with fear of abandonment. I have very strong anxious attachment tendencies that coincide with this fear of abandonment. I lacked any sort of self confidence in my relationship and worried every second that something wasn’t right. There was no way that he actually wanted to be with me, I am not good enough for him and we were doomed. I felt threatened every second of everyday by things that didn’t even exist. I took every little thing that was said or happened and over analyzed it to the point where I made up scenarios in my head and convinced myself they were true. Vincent wanted to hang out with his friends instead of me? Well he must hate me, I knew this was too good to be true, he is going to break up with me, I need him to tell me none of this is true RIGHT NOW or else I will continue to spiral. I legitimately felt like I was going out of my mind. I was driving myself insane and I had no idea how to handle what was going on. It took months for me to figure out that I was actually pushing Vincent away with these made up anxious thoughts and they way I responded to them. I swear to The Universe the number of nightmares I have had about Vincent cheating on me even though he has never ONCE given me any reason to think so is unreal. I was so fearful of the unknown and the possibility of losing him that without that constant reassurance I would spiral out of control.

With the help of a therapist, my own will and of course the support of my amazing partner Vincent, our relationship gets stronger by the day. Even though my anxiety isn’t going to go away completely, the difference now is that I know what I need to do to bring myself back down to earth and talk myself out of the irrational dark hole in my mind. It happens far less often and most of the time I know it’s just another one of those mind tricks.

Over the weekend Vincent and I got into a small drunken argument over a Michael Jordan and Rob Gronkowski jersey. Yes you are reading this correctly. He told me that he purchased himself the two jerseys but he was afraid to tell me because he knows how much I love them and would want jerseys of my own. The alcohol induced dramatics of the argument left us going to bed full of anger, which doesn’t sit well with me, so in turn I had a nightmare about him cheating on me and telling me he never loved me. Absolutely nonsensical. We woke up in the morning and quickly apologized to each other and moved on. In the past I would cling onto the nightmare and my mind would whorl out of control and I would actually think it was true. Anxious thoughts can be so powerful that it can be damn near impossible to differentiate between what is real and what is made up.

Certain things can be a trigger for my anxiety. It is important to recognize the situations that trigger you and figure out what helps you move past them. Share this information with the people in your life. Sometimes you don’t know that something is a trigger for you until it happens. Surrounding yourself with people who are willing to learn about your struggles and show that they want to do what they can to help ease or eliminate them from your life. You should never be afraid to speak up for yourself and let others know when you are struggling. 

I woke up today after a few drinks and a lot of snacks expecting to feel like I gained 600 pounds overnight. I have my period so my hunger has been through the roof and if you’re a female you know how bloated and disgusting you can feel during your time of the month. It’s funny because sometimes I actually feel smaller when I have my period, which is probably because of the excessive bowel movements we go through. Just one of many of the wonderful side effects of your menstrual cycle. Having your period is a natural part of being a woman, and life wouldn’t exist without it so if reading this made you uncomfortable, grow up. Boys, I’m talking to you. Notice how I said boys instead of men..... 

ANYWAYS... I want to talk about body image and diet culture. When you realize how much of your life has been wasted trying to change who you are based on a made up beauty standard by companies driven by greed you get angry. We ingest so much from the mainstream media at such a young age we don’t even realize how it has affected us until years later. Growing up I was never the skinny popular girl. I was chubby, potentially a bit unhealthy but in high school I probably wasn’t as big as I felt. I always referred to myself as the fat friend, the one who is funny and gets along with all the boys but never gets out of the friend zone. I felt like the outcast in my group of girlfriends. I wore t-shirts and jeans and over sized sweatshirts and hated wearing tank tops or any sort of tight fighting clothing. My persona in high school was all over the place but I was all about being different and even though I definitely had issues with body image I loved high school and it wasn’t as detrimental to my mental health as it would become later in life. 

College was hands down my favorite five years of growing up. I wouldn’t change a damn thing. But I gained a lot of weight in college and noticed how much my struggle with body image and self confidence affected me during this time. I can’t tell you how many times Mary and I set a goal for ourselves to lose weight and took all of these before pictures that never got an after picture to compare too. We did juice cleanses, vowed to wake up and work out before class at 7 a.m., eliminated foods from our diet and yet they were all just small unrealistic phases of our lives that didn’t last very long at all. 

I started getting into fitness for real after college when I moved back home and started dating this guy who was a fitness fanatic. I asked him to show me the ropes and help me get the body of my dreams. I wanted to lose weight so the number on the scale would be at the number that I thought society would accept. I also wanted to look strong, like jacked with huge biceps and abs strong. I fell in love with the gym and fitness culture very quickly. I noticed the benefits of regular exercise and a cleaner diet and was feeling really fucking good. Soon it became an addiction, and my obsession became unhealthy. I labeled foods as good and bad and completely cut certain types of food out of my diet in order to achieve the look I wanted. I wanted to be skinny. That was my goal. I wasn’t doing it to be healthy, to help my anxiety, or for any other specific reason than to be skinny. I was on a very strict diet and whenever I would have a “cheat day” I hated myself after. If I fell off from my diet throughout the week I would fill my head with shame and guilt and make myself feel worthless. I would spend hours at the gym and skip social events to make sure I got my workout in. If I missed the gym for any reason I was really pissed off and those feelings of shame would come rushing back. I was getting a lot of attention during this period of time when I had lost a lot of weight and I died my hair platinum blonde and people were noticing me for how I looked. It literally felt like I would get high off of compliments and attention about how skinny I looked or when other girls would admit their jealously about my body. Finally I was on the other side. 

I was slowly starting to realize the negative effects this obsession with obtaining the “perfect body” was having on my mental health. I would have moments of clarity and realize where my mind was and where it should be. Nevertheless it was still hard to let go of the need to be “skinny” mindset that I had felt since I was a young girl. It takes a lot of time, patience and practice to change your outlook on something. I wanted to let go, but at the same time I didn’t because part of me still wanted to be the girl I had always dreamed of. 

I had gotten seriously injured at the beginning of my Fall 2018 rugby season, just two weeks after I came home from my summer in Hawaii. I dislocated my elbow so badly it damaged my nerves and I couldn’t feel or control the fingers on my left hand for nine months. I basically had OCD about the gym and all of the sudden it was ripped away from me completely. I was devastated and spiraled into this very dark place and I began to use food to cope with my emotions. Now this habit of mine wasn’t new, but I never actually realized that my relationship with food was so unhealthy until I got older. 

I don’t know what it is about eating healthy meals and working out that makes you feel superior to everyone else to the point where you have to show it off every single time you do so that people know. I swear it’s all a sick mind game that is controlled by the media. I spent hours browsing social media and looking at these people I have never even met before dreaming of having their life instead of mine. Every salad or workout I saw just made me feel worse. Pictures of girls in their bikini’s or showing off their seemingly tan, flawless, glowing skin while I walked around looking the complete opposite made me hate myself.

Let’s fast forward to present day. It has been four years since I graduated college and moved home and my weight has been fluctuating between 135-155 for the past four years. This entire journey of fitness, fad diets, weight loss, weight gain, and everything else that I have experienced has finally brought me to this feeling of true self confidence that I had been searching for my whole life. I unfollowed anyone on social media, specifically Instagram, that made me feel like I needed to change who I was. I read and share content that promotes body positivity and self love. I control what I ingest based on the mindset I want to have. I have fully accepted that my weight does not define my worth and that there are so many other things in life that are way more important than how you look. I am happy with who I am. I am proud of the body I have and all of the things it allows me to do. I have a list of reasons why I love my body that I repeat to myself when I am feeling broken. I stopped labeling food as good and bad and stopped listening to the myths that people sell to consumers about what they should and should not do when it comes to food. I listen to my body. I enjoy the foods I want to enjoy when I want to enjoy them. Once you become in touch with your body and recognize what it needs to be YOUR level of comfortable and healthy you can focus your energy on something much greater. I was so sick of looking at other woman wishing I had their bodies so I could wear this outfit or I could go to the beach without feeling like a Beluga whale. Constantly worrying about how I looked to others would take away from what I was actually trying to enjoy. I workout to stay healthy because I care about my body and want to live a long life and be able to continue to do the things I love. I wear what I want when I want because I don’t exist on this earth it please others. I am not here to abide by some fake ass beauty standards because money hungry corporations need me for their businesses to thrive. 

Some days I want to get dolled the fuck up with fake eyelashes and fake nails and winged eyeliner with a tight bodycon dress and ball out. Other days I want to walk around barefoot in an oversized tie dye t-shirt and shorts with my natural curls blowing in the wind. All of the outfits I have bought but never wore out in public because I was too self conscious about how I looked in them, I’m fucking wearing them. It’s almost like what I say when someone asks me what type of music I listen too. I don’t have one specific genre that I listen too exclusively, if I hear a song and I like it, I listen too it. If I see a look I like, I’m gonna rock it. I am finally proud to be who I am, and I don’t want to be anyone else but me. Confidence is fucking sexy people. Jealousy and comparison is not. 

Even though we are in quarantine and I am currently unemployed, my weekends are still very different from my weekdays. Both of my parents are still working, which leaves me home alone for the majority of the weekdays until around dinner time. My mother is an essential worker at the supermarket and my father does freelance construction. I babysit twice a week for a few hours on Mondays and Wednesdays and then I am free as a bird for the rest of the days. 

Although my boyfriend and I do not live together I am still seeing him during this time of isolation. He works from home Monday through Friday so we spend most of our time together on the weekends when he is not working. Before I continue, I want to say sorry to those of you who are angry that I am seeing my boyfriend when we don’t live together but I promise you that we are being extremely safe and are not putting anyone in danger. 

We have been enjoying each other’s company and spending a lot of time with both of our families during all of this and it has been such a wonderful feeling. I am so proud of where we are in our relationship. We have grown so much as a couple and as individuals over these past two years together. I am thankful for his family and everything they do for me, and I am extra thankful to have him here for my family and I as we navigate our way through this difficult time in our lives.

The weekends have felt like they come and go in the blink of an eye while the weekdays drag on and on. I didn’t even realize that I hadn’t posted something since Thursday because my weekend was full of happiness, love, laughter and sunshine. It’s funny how I feel my most inspired to write when I am actually struggling in real life. I don’t want to force myself to create content just to make sure I’m writing as much as possible. I want my writing to have that feeling of realness that comes from raw emotion. Now I’m not saying that all of my posts are going to be downhearted, but I find that my mind is overflowing with words in times of despair and I use writing as my way of working through them.

Now that the weather has been a little more consistent and the sun has spent more time shining bright in the sky, I find it easier to have more moments of joy in this strange time. I hope everyone else has been able to find ways to add more sunshine and smiles into their lives and continues to stay strong. 

Peace and love, y’all. 

About four months ago I signed up to run my first ever half marathon. I had never been a runner. Yes I am an athlete and I play rugby but long distance running has never been a part of my training. In October I ran my first 5k, which is 3.2 miles, for Shatterproof.  The Rise Up Against Addiction 5k happens in cities all over the country to raise money and awareness for the organization. 

My family and friends came together and ran in honor of my brother, Joseph. My sister has been a runner for years now, competing in marathons all over, including the Chicago marathon a few years back. I ended up running the 5k in 26 minutes which was WAY faster than my expectations. I went into the race with a goal of finishing in under 40 minutes. To this date it has been my fastest 5k time. Sometimes I try to make sense of how I completed the race so quickly; maybe it was my adrenaline, or the reason we were running, or who I was running with but the answer remains unknown. 

After I finished the race I felt like this could be my new hobby. I absolutely shocked myself with how well I performed and I decided then I would take up long distance running. I signed up for a few more races in the upcoming months but was only able to participate in the Turkey Trot due to outside circumstances. The Turkey Trot DID NOT go well at all. I didn’t drink much the night before and went home considerably early but I was very dehydrated and unprepared for this race. I was the slowest out of my two friends that ran with me, and I puked as soon as I crossed the finish line. 

Shortly after some of my friends decided to sign up for their first half marathon. I was disappointed that I would not be in town the weekend of the race. About a month later my sister reached out and asked me to run the BK Half Marathon with her in May. Without hesitation I agreed. I was excited to take on this challenge and push myself out of my comfort zone to do something new. I began listening to podcasts and researching the best training methods, tips and tricks to optimize my running potential. I bought myself a white board calendar to hang on my wall so I could track my runs each week, and two pairs of running shoes because that’s what the experts said to do. I began my 12 week training on a Tuesday morning before work and it was HARD. I immediately regretted my decision to sign up for this half marathon and couldn’t see how in the world I would ever be able to run 13.1 miles in one shot. 

As the weeks went on I didn’t quit, I stuck to my training and felt incredible. Each week the miles would increase and even though I would still get nervous I managed to get it done. There’s a lot to learn when it comes to long distance running and of course it’s hard not to strive for perfection during your first go around. My friends and I were training at the same time so we would be sharing our daily runs, and anything we discovered through our researching. My friends were running faster than me and it was hard not to compare myself to them. Marathon running is such a test on your metal strength. Your mind is your biggest weapon. I started to switch my mindset from feeling badly about not running as fast as my partners to feeling proud of myself for just doing it. 

Everyone is guilty of comparing themselves to someone else. It’s almost impossible not too in today’s society that’s full of people shoving their seemingly perfect lives in your face on social media. One of the hardest things to do is recognize that the only person you should be comparing yourself too is the person you were before you began whatever journey you are on. So instead of focusing how fast I was running, I was just focusing on getting it done. 

Lindsay and I have been best friends for the past two decades and I would not have wanted to train for this race with anyone else. She is one of my biggest motivators and supporters and I am so thankful to have a friend like her. We were each other’s hype women throughout the entire process. It was so freeing to be able to let go of that mindset that I needed to be at the same pace or better than my friends. I was able to really focus on how far I had come as an individual and what I was able to accomplish. 

This weekend I was supposed to be running in my half marathon. Obviously due to the state of the world right now, my race was canceled weeks ago. When quarantine first began I tried to keep a positive attitude. I wanted to continue training and planned to run my half marathon whether or not the official race was still happening. As the weeks went on my training seemed more and more like a burden because I technically didn’t have anything to do all day every day. Eventually I stopped running entirely. It has been four weeks since the last time I ran and every day that I tell myself I am going to do it I find a reason not too. 

Today, I finally ran. I ran two miles, which a month ago was considered my easy training days, but today was anything but easy. I felt like I had never ran a day in my life. My pace was one of my personal slowest and I did not have one ounce of fun. At first I felt defeated, like I had totally screwed myself and I ran for two months for nothing because clearly I am back to square one. It didn’t get any easier to finish the two miles as time went on but what did change was my mindset. I was able to think back to when I first started my training in February and how far I had come since then. Before my one month hiatus I was able to run 6 miles in one hour, something I would’ve laughed at in the past before ever believing I could do so. My goal was simple, run two miles. It didn’t matter how fast I ran or how many times I had to stop to walk, all that mattered is that I completed a two mile run. I used my success in the past and the benefits of all my previous hard work as proof that I knew without a doubt that I could run two miles because I’ve done it before. 

Seconds felt like hours when I was running the last .1 of my two miles. I couldn’t wait to do be done. I was exhausted and couldn’t believe how hard it was. I honestly thought even after a month of not running I would still be able to jump back in and run a quick 3 miles easy. I was naive. Despite the difficulty of my run, I felt good. My endorphins were pumping and I was proud of myself for reaching my goal. I danced in the shower and day dreamed about the rest of the weekend and when I would run. Of course Lindsay was the first person to give me kudos on Strava, and she immediately sent me messages of praise because she was so proud that I ran. 

Having a solid support system is a blessing. So often we find ourselves fighting against the entirely false thoughts that we repeat over and over in our mind. When I can’t seem to fight back any longer, it’s the people like Lindsay and my boyfriend Vincent who help me remember what I am capable of. 

I’m not always able to be my own voice of reason. I am not always capable of realizing what my true potential is and how much better I am than I may think. Changing your mentality from negative to positive is a difficult habit to form. It takes practice and more practice and I’m not sure that it’s even possible to do it completely. We are human and we have been accustomed to a certain way of thinking for our entire lives. It’s almost like how we learned how to walk a certain way and then all of the sudden 26 years later you’re told it’s harmful to your health and you need to change it right away.  It would feel unnatural and frustrating and you’d have moments where you wouldn’t care enough to keep trying. 

Life is all about taking the good with the bad. All of the times you have doubted yourself or underestimated your potential and undervalued your accomplishments because someone else was out there doing it better than you, they have encountered also. There is always going to be someone out there doing things better than you, and someone out there doing things better than them. It’s inevitable, unless you’re the greatest of all time like Michael Jordan.

It is 3:45 p.m. on Tuesday here in New York and I am outside for the first time since yesterday afternoon. The birds are chirping, the sun is strong and I’ve been in my bed all day, which is in the basement so when the blinds are closed I refer to it as the dungeon. I wouldn’t even be outside right now if my Dad didn’t scream my name one hundred times to get up and get some fresh air. He was so sick of me ignoring him that he referred to me as Nicole and he NEVER calls me that. I don’t even think I can recall one time in my entire life that he has called me anything but Nic or Nikki. I was so sick of hearing him yell at me from the living room I came outside just to shut him up. But now that I have been out of my bed and in the sun for a half n hour I want to thank him; I needed that push.

The weather that we have had this Spring is bizarre. Two weeks ago it was 75 and sunny, not a cloud in the sky, with a UV index of 8 and half the population of Long Island looked like bright cherry tomatoes for the next week. The following Saturday it felt like we traveled back in time to mid January and it was SNOWING because temperatures dropped into the thirties. It’s certainly not helping to soften the effects of the quarantine blues.

This quarantine sucks. There is no sugar coating it, at least not for me. Yes of course there have been some small positives and moments of joy that have come out of this but overall it just plain sucks. It has been hard not to feel guilty about complaining when things could be worse, but honestly I hate that saying, because yeah sure things could always be worse but that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to feel negatively about what is going on. I saw a post that read, “We are not all in the same boat, but we are all in the same storm”. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. Whoever came up with this analogy hit the nail on the freakin’ head. In my opinion it is the best way to describe what this global pandemic feels like. 

Grief is hard enough to navigate, especially in the first year after losing your loved one. Trying to adjust my life to it’s new normal without my little brother while also adjusting to the new normal of a world in quarantine is like having a knife in a gun fight.

Exactly a year ago this month I had developed such irrational anxiety after so many years of build up that I felt like I was losing my mind. I had spiraled into this dark place and it was extremely terrifying. I had been going to therapy for a few months at this point but was still feeling like I had to do more. At first, I was highly against taking any sort of medication to help deal with my anxiety and high functioning depression but things had gotten to a point where I felt like I did not have a choice. I know I am one of the few lucky people who find the right therapist and the right medication on their first try, but that doesn’t mean it was easy.

I began going to therapy mainly to help me to deal with the trauma of my home life. Living with an addict had a tremendous effect on my mental health which directly affected other parts of my life outside my home. Addiction is not only an addicts disease, it is a family disease. 

Since my brother’s passing there have been thousands of different thoughts flowing through my mind. Some days in quarantine, when I am feeling extra lonely, and both of my parents are at work, I wish he was here with me. I wish we were quarantined together so that we could spend time doing things like playing Guitar Hero or listening to music while burning incense. But then I think to myself, is that really what it would be like? Or is this just a fantasy of what you would want it to be like if you could choose it? The reality of the matter is, that’s not how it would be. Growing up my brother and I were best friends. Only a few years apart in age, I had friends whose siblings were my brothers friends and when we came home every day all we had was each other. My older siblings have about a ten year age gap between us and they spent the majority of their childhood going back and forth between our house and their mother’s home. We were close even after I went away to college and the distance between us slowly came about the deeper he fell into his addiction. By the time he had passed our relationship was in turmoil. I had reached the point of resentment and full on rage. After five years of standing by his side and trying my absolute best to help him and everything my parents and I had done for him I couldn’t fathom the fact that he still was choosing to do this to us. 

Realistically if things were exactly the same as they had been right before my brother passed and we were sentenced to this at home lock down, it would’ve been a fucking nightmare. Imagine being stuck inside your home with a heroin addict in the midst of one of his worst drug binges thus far? I’m hoping that you can’t imagine this but if you can, or are currently going through it, I am praying for you. It would’ve been torture for everyone, including my brother. 

I function my best with a consistent and healthy routine. I like to have a set work schedule that does not change at the last minute. I like to plan out my days at the beginning of the week so I can be the most efficient. Right before this quarantine I was in such a healthy place. As healthy as you can be while grieving, but nonetheless I felt good. I had my routine down pact. I was training for my first ever half marathon, things were going really well with work and babysitting, I had my schedule set and I planned out my training and my free time around that. I was making great money and finally putting a real dent into my credit card debt. I was excited for all of the things that were planned for the near future. Between losing all of this overnight AND the loss of my brother just six months prior, I was crushed.

Before I started writing last month I had been speaking my thoughts and feelings via my Snap Chat story, which gave people an opportunity to respond directly to my videos. I received a ton of messages from people that felt similar to how I had been feeling since this pandemic flipped the world upside down. They shared what works for them and I appreciated that they took the time to reach out. This is the beauty of conversation. 

Connecting with others makes it that much easier to take a deep breath and realize that you are allowed to feel this way and more importantly that you are not alone. Life is literally like a roller coaster, it’s full of ups and downs and twists and turns and sometimes it happens so fast you don’t even realize it’s happening. 

Today was most definitely a down day. I did not want to get out of bed for anyone or anything and I took a two hour nap before noon even hit. This is an overwhelming and confusing time for the entire world, and we all need to be there for each other because everyone is going through this storm just on their own boat. 

We should all work on being a little kinder to ourselves and to remember that it is totally okay to not feel totally okay. 

For as long as I can remember I have been the type of person who gets this idea in their head and thinks this is it. Despite all of my past ideas that I have not seen come into fruition, this is the idea I’ve been waiting for. 

Spoiler alert: it is never the idea. 

The truth is, I’m a flake. I claim to want to do all these different things and then when it’s time to take action to get them done, I bail. The idea will rapidly expand in my mind, filling my body with this surge of adrenaline that makes me feel invincible. I continue to day dream about how it will pan out and watch my future play out like a perfect movie in my mind. I’ll take this energy to start my journey and then as quickly as it began, it all washes away with the tides of the ocean. 

I have countless books I’ve started and never finished, television shows left unwatched after two seasons, art projects that are halfway painted and fitness goals I’ve never reached. I repeat a list of things I want to do, habits I want to form, challenges I want to complete, and careers I want to pursue and almost nothing sticks. 

I’m full of excuses and the sick part is I’m totally aware of it. I try to convince myself that they’re justifiable but in reality my self-awareness of this unfavorable character trait eats me alive. 

I cannot seem to wrap my head around it. If I am so painfully aware of this part of myself that is harmful to my well-being, why does it continue to transpire? It’s a constant loop of emotions from beginning to end. It’s actually very similar to the pattern of emotions I get from a night of intense binge drinking. Unfettered excitement for the night to begin, followed by the feeling of euphoria as the night unfolds, and by the next morning, when it has all come to a close, I am on my near death bed swearing off alcohol for the rest of my life. I build myself up to believe I am the Queen of the whole damn world and nothing can stop me when a new vision pops into my head. I go from that feeling of being invincible to feeling like I will never accomplish anything for the rest of my days. When I don’t see these so called desires to completion, I destroy my self esteem. I belittle my character and decimate my self worth with the harshest words in the book. Things I would never say to another human being for the pure fact that they are so loathsome yet for some reason I find appropriate when looking to describe my own self. 

I saw this quote on Instagram one day that read, “if you truly want something, nothing will stop you from getting it. If it does, that means you didn’t truly want it in the first place.” It haunts me. It makes my head spin. Does this mean I never really wanted it in the first place? How can that be possible when I felt it in my bones? This can’t be true, life doesn’t go as planned, you can’t control your future and situations arise all the time to throw your plans off track. You’re allowed to have a sudden change of heart, life is all about living and learning. I’m not a flake, I’m just exploring all of my options, right? There’s still time, I don’t need to rush, I’ll make it happen eventually.

I can sit here and go back and forth tearing myself apart for not fulfilling a plan I set out to complete, and then look to the left and compile reason after reason to justify my unfinished work as a sorry attempt to help alleviate the feelings of being complete and total trash. I am the angel and the devil on my shoulder.

Now I must ask myself, why do I feel this way about my actions? Is it because society has sculpted this idea of what makes a successful person? Am I not confident enough in myself to succeed? Am I so fearful of the possibility to be crushed by failure that I would rather just not try at all? Or is it because it actually is a horrible character trait and I am in fact trash?

I worry so much about what others think of me when I rattle off my ideas and then they disappear. It literally almost happened with this blog. When I wrote my first few posts I was full of that giddiness you get in the beginning of a new relationship. It’s been a few weeks since that first post and I’ve written nothing new. My boyfriend called me out on it and I felt shame. I quickly responded with anything I could think of to make it seem like I had not given up on this dream, yes dream, of mine because I couldn’t bear the embarrassment of yet another unaccomplished goal. 

Honestly I am having a difficult time writing a conclusion to all of this because I still can’t fully convince myself I’m not just a piece of trash. I would like to blame my skewed method of evaluating myself and my en devours on the toxic and corrupt media that has created these unrealistic standards for success that can be so debilitating people lose their lives over it, buuuuuuut I know that sometimes it really is my own fault. I am a human who makes mistakes but I am also a human who chooses what she does and does not do. Sometimes things arise that derail your plans, or even destroy them, but sometimes the only thing standing in the way of what you want is your own self.  Sometimes I am only human, I can’t be perfect and I need to understand that there are so many different ways to measure success that only I can be the judge of my own triumphs. Things don’t always go as planned and they don’t get finished because The Universe has a different path mapped out for me, but sometimes I really am acting like trash and I give up and there is no other reason that my goals went unreached except for the fact that I got in my own way.

Now I can take all of this information next time I find myself spiraling into this cycle of success versus failure. I can evaluate the situation while being kinder to myself when I fail, but realizing when I caused my own downfall and combat that with the drive to go further than I expect from myself. 

Or I can continue to be the same person I have been and follow the same pattern over and over again until I die. 

I wonder what it’s gonna be.

Alright y’all buckle up because this is gonna be a long one. As I was driving home from babysitting today I was obviously thinking about the state of the world right now and somehow my thoughts snowballed into rage. Here is today’s hot take, as my friend Christian would call it, about the way we are handling Coronavirus versus the way we are handling opioid addiction. 

The entire world has been shut down for almost two months and everyone (minus the people who think science is fake and are protesting against corona), has come together to fight against this disease so it stops taking the lives of our loved ones. 

Why is this kind of media attention and this kind of affirmative action, from both government officials and non-government personal, not given to the opioid epidemic? Imagine how much further we would be in finding a cure to this disease if it got half the attention Coronavirus has gotten in the past two months. We do not realize how much the media shapes the world we live in until we take a step back and look in from the outside. 

Quick background to help those of you who are new, my little brother struggled with opioid addiction starting at age 18 until he passed away in August 2019 at age 23. Over the years I was exposed to a disease that I would not wish on my most hated enemy. 

Before we dive into these two public health crises’ let’s define them. Honestly I had no idea what the difference between a pandemic and an epidemic was until I looked it up for this post.

A pandemic is defined as a disease that’s spread over multiple countries and continents, while an epidemic is only referring to a specific region, community or population. 

While opioid addiction doesn’t only exist in the United States, we do have one of the HIGHEST overdose mortality rates in the entire world. According to Shatterproof, a non profit organization working to combat the addiction crisis, on average 192 Americans die from an overdose each day.  200 people every single day makes 1,400 people per week, 5,600 people per month, and 67,200 people every single year. In 2017, 70,237 people died from an overdose. Opioid overdose deaths went up 30 percent from July 2016 to July 2017 and have risen FOUR times as much as they were in the last fifteen years. Think about what those numbers probably look like between 2018-2020. 

Google reports that Coronavirus has killed 60,726 people in the United States and 225,000 worldwide. Yes these numbers are extraordinarily high in such a short period of time, which is why we acted so abruptly as soon as we discovered the gravity of the disease. Imagine where we would be over the span of just one year if we didn’t. Just to be clear, I am not here to take away the severity of this disease or to deem any of the precautions taken as unnecessary, I am simply here to present my “hot take” and back it up with facts. 

Every single media outlet is FLOODED with talk about Covid-19. Every single death is reported to the masses, whether you ask for it or not. If you Google virus statistics there’s a whole page with graphs and updated numbers down to the minute. There is not a person in the world who doesn’t know about this disease. We will talk about it for years and years to come, our children will learn about it as an essential part of the world’s history. 

When I typed in opioid statistics on Google earlier I had a particularly hard time finding information from the years following 2017. This seems odd to me because the disease clearly didn’t just disappear. Lack of information means lack of public knowledge. People ingest what the media puts out there whether it is factual or not and once they have absorbed this information that is what they believe to be true. I vaguely remember learning about drug addiction throughout my years in public school, and most of those memories are of those corny videos and speeches about how marijuana is a gateway drug. We are in the year 2020 and science has proven marijuana to be anything but that. Science has proven marijuana to be extremely useful with many positive benefits for numerous mental and physical ailments in today’s world. It is legal in a handful of states across the country with hopes that trend will continue across all fifty. Just like how science showed that heroin, which is a common opiate, should no longer be legal in the United States in the late 1890′s when they became aware of its potential dangers. Yes you read that year correctly, 1 8 9 0. We have known for the past 130 years that opioids are highly addictive and yet here we are.

Doctors and health care professionals are feverishly working to find a vaccine for Covid-19 that will, fingers crossed, cure current patients and prevent continuous outbreaks. From the second we realized how deadly this disease was we made it our number one priority and nothing will change this mindset until we are one-thousand percent sure it is safe. The well-being of our countries citizens is our biggest concern. There is no way our nations leaders allow this disease to become more deadly than it already is right now, let alone continue to take the lives of innocent people for years to come. 

Why isn’t this the approach we take when dealing with addiction? Imagine how drastic the change in addiction stigma and what the statistics would be. What if names, ages, images and videos of the 197 innocent lives lost per day due to a drug overdose were broadcast across the media as consistently as Covid-19?Why isn’t addiction portrayed to the public in this impossible not to take in, shocking, heart wrenching, devastating fashion, when in fact it is all of those things on a daily basis whether we are aware of it or not?

Knowledge is truly power. The more people that are exposed to the harsh reality of addiction the more power we will have to fight against it. I want you to really sit here and think about how often you hear about Coronavirus on a daily basis. It is literally everywhere. You cannot avoid it no matter how hard you try. Now I want you to replace that word with opioid addiction and tell me how you feel. Like countless others you have become sick of hearing about how horrendous the disease is. It pains you to hear about all of the lives that are being lost so suddenly and you pray to see the end of this as soon as possible. You send your prayers and condolences to those around you as you learn of their loss, you offer your hand to help those struggling and reach into your wallets to donate what you can to help fight against it. 

They are BOTH vicious, life threatening diseases that know no bounds. People walk through life with this misguided notion that they’re invincible from certain tragedies based on their social status, geographic environment, wealth, race and ethnicity when in actuality that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Now you can use this argument against the media for a great deal, if not all, diseases that put our well-being at risk, but I chose addiction for the obvious reasons.