If I turned my blog into a book, what would the title be? Well, that's easy-Hope Is Real! Hopefully, one day that book will be a reality. The first step to doing that, I think, is to have my own webpage, instead of using the Blogger platform. So far, I don't have any plans for next Saturday, so unless something really great comes up I am making that day my work on a webpage day. I'm excited and skeptical at the same time. People say that it's pretty easy converting a blog from one platform to another, but I've written over five hundred posts! Egads! Whether converting those files from this source to another, or trying to determine which ones to include in a book, the number is a little daunting. So, I'm trying not to think about it. No sense in worrying about it before I've even started researching how to do it in the first place!
While the title for my book is exceedingly obvious, it does remind me about a title I once gave to a story I wrote that is sort of embarrassing for me to admit. When I was in RVI's outpatient program two years ago, I had to write and tell my life story. The title I came up with for my life story was "The Girl Who Never Stopped Screaming and Crying." Oh my God, is that not the most melodramatic title you've ever heard? I am so embarrassed; I just want to run and hide!
There is a reason why I gave it that name though. At the time, I saw my story as a series of events where I desperately cried out for help with my condition, but nobody ever responded appropriately. And in some instances, that was true. I think of the time during my middle school years when I informed my youth minister that I sometimes thought of killing myself and all she did was tell me that if I ever thought of that again, then I should call her.
***That was not the right thing to do!!!!*** She should have told my parents. Of course, if you had asked me then if I wanted her to tell my parents what I had said, I would have said no, but that's only what I would have said with my mouth-inside, I desperately wanted my parents to do something. If she had told my parents, they would have tried to get me help much sooner and perhaps I would have been spared years of suffering. But perhaps not-it's no use thinking about what could have been. Which takes me back to the title of my life story-while it is true that there were times when I cried out for help and not enough help was given, it is also true that I very rarely asked directly for help. On the one hand, I did not know how and it would be really wonderful if we had workshops where we taught young people how to ask for help and if we could de-stigmatize mental health treatment. BUT we live in reality and in reality, I never actually asked for help. In fact, I actively strove to hide my eating disorder, depression, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts. I don't say this to shame myself, but just to remind myself that I need to take responsibility for my recovery. Two years ago, I looked at my life through the eyes of a victim. I was a victim crying and shouting desperately for help, but now that I have more coping skills and a better support network, I realize that I no longer want to identify as a victim. If I were to present my life story again, I wouldn't change much, but I would change the title. What would it be? I think a great name would be My Journey to a Life Worth Living. In fact, that so happens to be the title of an article I wrote to psyweb.com about my recovery! I got contacted by that website to write my recovery story and I am proud to offer the first part here. I'll let you know when the second part is published.
I'm interested in knowing-what would you title your own autobiography?