Hoop Path Retreat Reflections Part 2

After work on Wednesday, I drove home to find Cassandra and "Big Momma" (her jeep) waiting for me at my house. We went to grab some Thai food and made a list of items we would need for our 12-hour road trip and weekend adventure. Hoola Monster Kiyla joined us as we finished up dinner, and Amy arrived at the house a few hours later. The four of us chatted with excitement about the upcoming retreat. We had to wake up and hit the road by 5:30 a.m., so we eventually called it a night.

On Thursday morning, we loaded up Big Momma and made our way out of Tampa. Cassandra was amazing and drove the entire time, with brief pit stops for hooping, stretching and food.

We eventually arrived in Carborro and set up at Camp Mary Water, our Retreat 'home away from home.' There were approx. 15 campers and house guests staying with Mary. She was a warm and inviting ray of sunshine throughout the entire weekend, and we couldn't have asked for a better hostess. (We love her!)

After setting up camp, we hopped back in the jeep with our hoops and made our way to the Opening Ceremony and Flow Showcase. Walking into the room was like a hoop family reunion. I saw lots of familiar, smiling faces including: Lauren, Christabel, Claudia, Tara, Ann, Beth, Rebecca, Nicki, Geoff, and the list goes on... I was giddy with excitement meeting new people as well. It warmed my heart just being present in that environment, surrounded by 150 beaming hoopers. I couldn't help but think how we were all brought together in that moment due to our shared passion for the blissful, powerful art form known as modern hoop dance.

Bax said a few words before the Flow Showcase began. Performances included belly dancing by Anastasia, an interpretive dance by the amazing Christabel (a.k.a. HoopGirl), some badass hooping by the one and only Spiral and a heart-warming "Life of the Party" poem by our very own Cassandra. We were also blessed with a beautiful song by Hoop Pathers Beth and Ann. There were other talented artists who showed their stuff too, but the names are escaping me now. Afterwards, we all hooped together at the farm before heading back to Camp Water for some much needed R&R.

Friday morning began with excited squeals as Kristin and Kacey arrived at Camp Water. I hadn't seen these two in about a year and a half, and I was like a little kid on Christmas morning being reunited with my friends. After some brief catch up, we took part in an outdoor, guided meditation at Bonnie's house. It ended with peacock feather take-aways with inspirational words attached. Calm and blissful, the group headed out for the first workshop of the weekend.

In the workshops, Bax encourages students to "go blind." Blindfolded, meditative practice enables you to focus on the experience in a different way. When blindfolded, I find that I'm able to feel and respond to the rhythm and energy created between me and the hoop. I get into the zone, or "flow" and I'm able to lose sight of the world around me. It's truly a beautiful experience.

Day 1's Focus: The Vessel. We did lots of core hooping and balance techniques. As always, Bax provided wonderful instruction and guidance. We were all on a hoop high afterwards, so we met up with some of the locals to celebrate Lauren W's birthday before calling it a night.

Saturday began with a group breakfast. Day 2's Workshop Focus was The Mind. Baxter's soothing words filled the room, as he coached us through each technique. When teaching, Bax has a habit of repeating things three times. "Unlock, unlock, unlock." "It's okay, It's okay, It's okay." Self-love and acceptance were key themes in the Saturday workshop. I remember feeling a deep connection to the experience during blindfolded practice.

Afterwards, we met with our Mini Tribe to discuss the fire ceremony, which would take place later in the evening. Our group agreed upon a "Recipe for Positive Transformation." Matthias did a great job constructing a basket out of vines and wood, which would serve as our contribution to the fire.

After a quick shower, we headed over to Beth's house for the Kava ceremony and fire ritual. Bax began by holding silence for a friend who had recently passed. I knew that I wouldn't make it through the weekend without sheding tears, and this was my moment to do so. It was obvious that this man had touched the lives of many. My heart went out to The Hoop Path and to all who suffered from this great loss.

The evening continued with fire offerings from the Mini Tribes, with fire hooping and fire dancing to follow. Our Recipe for Positive Transformation included: greasing the bowl with hope, a dash of fear balanced with support from family and friends, a whole lot of self-love and courage, a bit of pain, loads of love and sprinkles of glitter. Cassandra and Matthias did a fabulous job presenting it. Afterwards, we had the pleasure of watching Rich (a.k.a. IsoPop) kill it with double mini fire hoops and Miss Rosie (from Hero Hoops) rock out with an amazing fire hoop performance. I lit up as well, and then we headed back to Mary's to sleep.

Day Three: Waking up outdoors is one of my favorite things to do. The fresh air, birds chirping and sunshine always put me in a good mood. So, on Sunday morning, I woke up early feeling great. Kacey, Kristin, Amy and I decided to go for a morning hike. We heard there was a lake nearby, and we wanted to go for a swim. It was an absolutely beautiful way to start our final day in Carborro:

Afterwards, we re-convened with our mini-Tribe over brunch with Mary. Needless to say, it was another great experience with lots of laughter and smiles.
The workshop on Day 3 was different than any of the other Hoop Path workshops I've been to. It began with "Hoop Church." We entered the gym in silence and proceeded to watch Bax hold up a series of signs. Music and movement then followed. On Day 3, Ann taught a section on sustained spinning, which was a definite highlight for me. I've been working on spinning but it's been difficult for me. With Ann's visualization techniques, I was able to finally break ground with spinning. For the first time, I got into flow with this technique, and it felt great. Taylor, Kristin and Kacey had similar experiences and we couldn't stop chatting about it on the way back to Mary's.

We arrived back at the campsite and immediately started getting ready for the Hooper's Ball. We had to pack up our gear because we needed to be on the road after the ball ended. The thing is... we didn't thoroughly think it through. We got ready before packing, so it was a pretty hilarious sight watching a bunch of girls in fishnets and feathers pack up camping equipment. We met in front of Mary's house to take photos before the ball. It felt a little bit like prom, but with glitter and leg warmers in place of corsages and prom dresses.


The Hooper's Ball was simply amazing. The workshops are an introspective experience, so it's sometimes difficult to see the incredible talent of the other hoopers in the room. But the Hooper's Ball was a chance for me to take in my surroundings. A HUGE highlight for me was watching Brecken hoop. She has this unique, smooth dance style... that, combined with her MAD HOOPING SKILLS, is a sight to see. I couldn't stop watching her. Of course, Rich, Christabel, Ann, Bax and Michelle were highlights for me as well. And watching Beth hoop with her daughter, Erica, was truly heart-warming. The beautiful thing about it is that I could take away something positive from every single hooper that I laid eyes upon. One of the great things about hoop dance is that each person brings his or her own, unique style into the art form.
Finally, it was time to pack up and head out. While it was sad to say goodbye to all of my Hoop Path sisters and brothers, I made it a point to remind myself that I have these amazing memories now. I also have a full year to prepare and look forward to HP4. The retreat was cleansing, meditative, heart-warming and soul-fulfilling. I'm truly grateful for the experience and for the incredible hooping community. I feel blessed, thankful and HAPPY today.

Hoop Path Retreat Reflections Part 1

Light. Bliss. Acceptance. Positive Transformation. Meditation. Gratitude. Happiness. Calm. Silence. Beauty. Talent. Music. Hugs. Flow. Appreciation. Amazement. Tears. Fire. Warmth. Comfort. Community. Introspection. Self-Love. Smiles. Patience. Sharing. PE*A*CE.

These are just some of the words that come to mind when I reflect on this past weekend. I returned from the Hoop Path Retreat in Carborro, North Carolina yesterday evening. Before diving into my incredible experience at the retreat, I want to take a moment to explain what the The Hoop Path means to me and why this event is so significant.

When I talk about 'finding the light' and overcoming depression, I often discuss healing through movement meditation - specifically hoop dance. Hoop dance is my passion, my stress relief and my creative outlet for self-expression. It's also my portal to happiness. I began hoop dancing in 2007 after a friend (Kacey from Homespun Hoops) introduced me to it. At the time, Kacey was taking a few months off from her career to attend music festivals and sell her hand-made hoops. She invited me over one day after work. We had some wine and then ventured outside to 'hoop.' Kacey handed me a large hoola hoop and encouraged me to try it. This hoop was different than the hula hoop I remembered playing with as a child. It was larger, heavier and it rotated slowly around my waist. I watched with awe as Kacey danced with her hoop. I was blown away by the grace and beauty of her movements. I found the experience to be meditative, rhythmic and soothing. Kacey made me my own hoop that day, and this marked the beginning of my personal hoop path. It was also a low point for me, in terms of depression.

For a few months, the hoop sat in my apartment untouched. Kacey moved back to South Carolina, and my depression got worse. I was in an unhealthy relationship and negative thoughts were constantly running through my mind. The sadness was consuming me, though I hid it well. One evening, I went to see a band with some friends. I noticed a couple girls hoop dancing. They looked so peaceful as they flowed effortlessly to the music. I watched, reflecting on how much fun I had in the backyard with Kacey. I got home that evening, moved my furniture around, and danced with my hoop in the living room for hours. It felt good.

In the months that followed, I obsessively watching videos on You Tube and Tribe.net. I cyber-stalked the masters on my computer... Spiral, Christabel, Baxter, Ann, Beth, Hoopalicious, and the list goes on... I wanted to do what they did, so I visited sites like Hooping.org, and I studied video tutorials. I also researched the websites of those who inspired me.

I will never forget the day when I logged onto The Hoop Path website for the first time. I read Jonathan Baxter's story with amazement. Here was a man talking openly about his experience with depression... an illness that I had spent my entire life hiding. On the site, Bax credits his rigorous hoop practice as the healing tool that enabled him to successfully overcome depression. He says he started to notice that his depression struck less often, felt less oppressive and the breakdowns didn't last as long. As a result, he was filled with hope. He also compared the rocking sensation created by the hoop to a baby rocking in its cradle... soothing, calm and quiet. Tears slid down my cheeks as I read his words. In that moment, I realized the same thing was happening for me. It had been months since I had a breakdown. Could it be that my new-found fascination with the hoop was really helping me overcome depression? This realization floored me.

From that point on, I felt a strong connection to The Hoop Path, and I wanted to meet Bax and learn from him first-hand. So, I bought a ticket to the 2008 Hoop Path Retreat in Carborro, NC. In Hoop Path language, this makes me a 'second-ringer' (Similar to annual rings on a tree, with each retreat, the community grows and more rings are added).

In June of 2008, I traveled to North Carolina with my hoop dance troupe, The Hoola Monsters. We had recently formed our group, and a few of us had just become certified to teach classes. I was so excited (and nervous) about the event. Last year, if I had to categorize myself, in terms of skill level, I would have put myself at the 'beginner/ just branching into intermediate' category.

By nature, I am a competitive person. So, when I arrived at the retreat, I couldn't help but compare myself to some of the other, more skilled hoopers. It was a humbling experience for me. At home, people would compliment my hooping regularly. At the '08 retreat, I was a newbie with lots to learn. There were times that brought me to tears, but Bax's words provided balance in those moments of frustration. He talked about self-love and discovering your own path. I was learning not to put so much pressure on myself. I was learning how to be patient and accepting of who I am, at any given moment in time. It's not about how good you can be. It's about how good you can feel.

I vividly remember a time in one of the workshops where I started crying and broke away from the group. The tears were flowing and I couldn't stop them. In that moment, I felt arms embrace me. I didn't know who was hugging me, but I hugged back and that support was exactly what I needed. The hugger's name is Lauren, and she was there for me before we ever even spoke. Needless to say, the '08 retreat marked the beginning of some amazing friendships.

The 2008 retreat was a cleansing experience for me. I would go so far as to say that it was life-changing. I expelled the negative energy inside of me. I literally danced it away, and I felt rejuvenated afterwards.

I've been looking forward to this year's retreat since the day I left Carborro last year. I wanted to see my hoop sisters and brothers, and I wanted to revel in Baxter's teachings again.

In the weeks leading up to the 2009 retreat, I spent lots of time on the phone with my out-of-state hooper friends, especially Lauren and Kacey. I hadn't seen Lauren since last year's retreat, and I really hadn't hooped with Kacey since she introduced me to hooping in the first place. They were both going to be at the retreat, and I was so excited to see them.

I had a slumber party at my house the night before our Carborro road trip. Cassandra (a fellow HoopGirl Workout teacher), Kiyla (a member of my troupe) and Amy (one of my students) slept over. We had to wake up at 5:30 a.m. in order to make it to Carborro for the first event of the weekend. We were giddy with excitement, as we finished packing and went over the retreat schedule. We knew it was going to be an incredible experience...

Research Blues

Conducting research for my book is necessary, in order to substantiate my points of view and gather needed statistics. Last night, as I scanned the Internet for the number of annual suicides by way of the Sunshine Skyway Bridge, I was overcome with emotion. I learned that, on average, 12 people a year die here. I should also mention that this bridge is very familiar to me. I drive over it 10 times a week... twice a day, to and from work. One of the articles that shook me up was this one...

http://www2.tbo.com/content/2009/may/22/deadly-jumps-are-darker-side-sunshine-skyway-bridg/

I understand that the writer was going for drama and shock value. But sections of this story were very difficult to read... specifically the part about the jackass who started jumperpool.com (which, by the way, I refuse to visit). Learning that most don't die a quick death when they jump and reading the count down until the moment the individual hits the water was also hard to stomach. In addition, I was amazed to discover the overwhelming number of derogatory comments posted to this story. I burst into tears, after briefly scanning the hateful words submitted by readers. It probably didn't help matters that I was conducting this research on Brad's birthday. He would have been 31 yesterday.

The quote by Forensic Psychologist Jerald Ratner also got under my skin. Is it possible that even our psychologists and psychiatrists don't understand what it's like to be depressed? And why must people pass judgement and make jokes about suicide? These are two of the questions that I'm tackling right now as I write my book.

The following video, while heartbreaking, sheds a more realistic and compassionate light on the Sunshine Skyway suicides. My heart goes out to the family featured here. I recently had the pleasure of meeting David Braughton, CEO of the Tampa Bay Crisis Center (who's interviewed towards the end of the story)... He is a good-hearted man with an important message:

http://www2.tbo.com/video/2009/may/22/skyways-suicide-attempts--66350/video-news/

I had to take a break from my work because it got too emotional last night... and that's OK. I'm learning to be patient with myself as I write. I hoop danced, got some fresh air, played with my dog, and had a glass of wine. I also prepared a nice dinner. My research is difficult but necessary. Even though it hurts, I am pleased with the progress I'm making. I'm also proud of myself for recognizing the need to take breaks, for my own mental health. Tonight is yoga night. Balance is key.

Diving into Darkness

"Some of the brightest lights come out of the darkest nights."
- Ricky Roberts III

It's amazing how people come into your life at just the right moment. The quote above is by an incredibly talented and inspirational writer who also happens to be my neighbor. I've lived four doors down from him for almost two years now, yet we never had a real conversation until last week.

Last Tuesday was a strange day... I was feeling a strong desire to write, but I was making excuses for not doing it. The fact of the matter is, it's been challenging to gain the courage I need to confront my truth. In order to find the light, I must first dive into the darkness.

I was struggling with these thoughts, and I was having a hard time focusing my energy on pursuing the task at hand. I knew that I needed to write, but I was being pulled away from it due to insecurity, fear and self-doubt.

Before leaving work that day, I posted a status update on Facebook, where I mentioned Christabel Zamor's new book, "Hooping." A few months ago, she asked me to provide a quote for it. I have yet to read the book, but as far as I know, my quote made it through the final round of edits. In the same status update, I mentioned Theresa Rose's book, "Opening the Kimono." Theresa is a Sarasota-based author who I met at the Hoop Path FL workshops back in February. I've stayed in touch with her via Facebook. In fact, she's scheduled to read an excerpt from her book at one of my upcoming hoopdance classes.

As I drove home from work, I kept thinking about my life and my purpose. I felt a strong desire to write but there was still hesitation in the back of my mind. Confronting the demons would be a true test of resilience.

When I got home, I took my dog for a walk and called a friend who I hadn't spoken to in a while. We talked about following your heart... even if it means making sacrifices in order to do what you love.

I hung up the phone and ran into my neighbor, Ricky. We ended up having the most amazing conversation. I found out that he's a youth advocate and published author. His books are about self-love, living life to the fullest and discovering your purpose. The conversation ended with a big hug, and he gave me a copy of his most recent book, "Where Did the Gift Go?"

Ricky's book is exactly what I needed at that moment. In the past few days, I've been able to dive into my darkness and write from the heart - raw and real, without reservation. I hand-wrote sixteen pages in my journal yesterday. I worked on at least five chapters of my book over the weekend, and I also started to bookmark pages in my journals that are relevant to my story.

The old journals are the hardest part for me. I'm reading words that bring back dark memories. I've shed a few tears in the past few days, for multiple reasons, but I'm balancing my sad moments with inspirational words from Ricky's book. When the subject matter that I'm writing about becomes too intense, I read another chapter of "Where Did the Gift Go," and I feel better.

It's been a long time coming, and I think Carol's death was a reminder (yet again) of how precious life is and that tomorrow is not a guarantee. We must follow our hearts and make the best of this life we're given.

The first journal I picked up this weekend was from 2003. When I opened it, I randomly landed on a page that listed the things I'd like to accomplish in this lifetime. The first item on that list was: Write a Book.

I know that the time is now, and I know that I'm supported. I'm erasing the word "fear" from my vocabulary. I'm letting my heart lead the way into the darkness to find the light.

I Love You

This post is indirectly related to my book in the sense that we have the ability to find light in the darkest of situations... it's more of a journal entry than anything else, and it's a message that I feel compelled to share.

If you are reading this, then the message is for you. I love you. Regardless of how well I know you or what our history may be, I have love for you.

So often, we don't take the time to tell each other how we feel. We don't let people know that we care. I want you to know that you are loved. You are supported. I care. Whether I know you well or I've had limited contact with you, something brought you here, at this moment. And at this moment, I am communicating a message of love to you. At this moment, I am making a personal vow to show appreciation for people and life, in general. I vow to approach each day with an open heart. Every moment is a gift, and there's no guarantee that tomorrow will come.

Many times, it take tragedies for raw emotion to surface. A tragedy is what prompted this blog... writing is my therapy. It always has been, and the message that I want to share is that life is precious, and it should never be taken for granted. Something bad happened yesterday. Something really bad. A beautiful soul left this world in a heartbreaking way. I received a call around 3 p.m. and was told that a friend of mine was found dead outside of her home... a block away, there was another crime scene where her husband's body was discovered. Police were calling it a murder/suicide, saying that it was domestic in nature. The details were vague.

After crying my eyes out in disbelief and total confusion, I got into my car and drove to their house. Reason being, my friend has two huskies that she loved dearly. Her family lives out of state, and I couldn't stomach the possibility of the dogs being separated or ending up in the pound. I know that if this had happened to me, she would have taken in my dog without a second thought.

I called the police department, in an effort to communicate my intent and offer to take the huskies (Sasha and Shyanne) but I didn't get much information on the dogs' whereabouts. So, I arrived at the house to find multiple police vehicles, officers from the forensics unit, reporters and neighbors gathered there. The police told me that a neighbor was temporarily caring for the dogs and that they would take my name and number. They wouldn't tell me which neighbors picked up the dogs or where Sasha and Shyanne were being held. I got in my car and started to drive away when I saw a few ladies gathered nearby. I approached them and explained that I was a friend, offering to care for the dogs. One of the ladies got into my car and took me to the house where she believed the dogs were being held. A woman answered the door - eyes red and puffy. I introduced myself and mentioned that I just wanted to leave my name and number, in case I could help with the dogs in any way. The woman recognized me, and I realized that I had met her before. She invited me in, and there were a couple other people there who I had also met in the past through our mutual friend. Come to find out, the family still had not been notified... the police were still working to contact them. Permanent decisions about Sasha and Shyanne will be made by the family. So, the dogs are in a safe place until then.

We talked for a while and I learned more about what happened. As far as anyone knows, there were no former incidents of abuse. I knew her husband also... always smiling, always joking. They were carefree, laid-back, good-hearted people. They separated about two weeks ago, and he was living with a neighbor a couple blocks away. Apparently, a few days would go by and they would spend time together again. Their marriage was rocky but they still saw each other regularly.

We won't know what happened for sure until the autopsy report comes back. It's obvious that a fight broke out, but we don't know if he pushed her, hit her, or if she fell, in an effort to flee the situation. All we know is that she was trying to exit the house when it happened. She has injuries on her upper torso, and her body was found on her front doorstep at 7:30 a.m. yesterday by a neighbor who was out for a morning walk.

The lights were turned off and the house was locked. A couple blocks away, her husband was found in her jeep. He pulled into the garage, closed the door and left the jeep running. Even though the police have not reported it yet, we know that he died from carbon monoxide poisoning.

In my experiences with death, I've found that those who shine the brightest lights are often the ones who go before their time. I want to explain for a moment about the kind of person my friend was... she hired me at the company I've been with for almost four years now. Over time, we developed a friendship, even though there was a 20 year age difference between us. I looked up to her and respected her. When I bought my house a year and a half ago, she was proud of me. I was willing to sacrifice some luxuries in order to be a home owner. I didn't have furniture for my second bedroom; I didn't have cable and I didn't care about those things. I was a home owner before the age of 30. That was a goal, and it felt good to accomplish it. Soon after I bought my house, this friend invited me over because she said she had some things for me. "Some things" turned out to be: a grill, gardening supplies, beautiful plants that she had cut and boxed for me so I could start a garden, a dog bed, a doggie house, a bed (with boxspring and mattress) for my second bedroom, and the list goes on... her generosity blew me away. Not only did she give me all of these things, she drove over with her husband and helped me move them in and get settled.

Every time a news story would run about Hoola Monsters, I would receive a call from her. I could hear the sincerity in her voice when she told me she was proud of me. A couple years ago, I went on a trip to New York City but the zipper on my winter coat was broken. I happened to mention this to her, and she came to the office the next day with three coats for me to choose from for my trip. Not long ago, she was laid off from our company due to budget cuts. I know that it was a hard time for her, but she always seemed to remain positive. She would still come to see me at the beach on Sundays... she knew that I went there to practice, and she made special trips to see me. She believed in the things that I'm passionate about. She brought friends there, and she supported me and encouraged me to follow my dreams and pursue my passions. I saw her at the drum circle two weeks ago... at the time, a crowd had gathered as I was hooping. I looked out to see her smiling face, and I threw my hoop to the ground and gave her a huge hug. We chatted for a moment, and she introduced me to her mom who was visiting at the time. My last memory of her will be that big hug, her magnificent smile and the sun setting in the distance. She's going to be missed dearly.

Death opens up the survivor's soul. It's an introspective experience that causes you to confront reality. There are no guarantees. There are no second chances.

Please do me a favor today and call or visit someone. Tell them how much you care. Approach each day with honesty and integrity. Know that life is a gift. Have no fear in seeking out truth and discovering beauty. Live in the moment, and love with your entire being. I don't know where this quote came from, but it's one of my favorites:

"Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. Today is a gift. That's why it's called the present."

I love you.

Love is the Movement

Now, more than ever, I feel a calling to help people. Just days after I sent emails to the Crisis Center of Tampa Bay and the Suncoast Yellow Ribbon Chapter (in an effort to get involved with their depression awareness and suicide prevention programs), I had an interesting encounter. I went into Target, while wearing my 'Love is the Movement' t-shirt from the charity, To Write Love on Her Arms (TWLOHA). The shirt represents a not-for-profit movement dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury and suicide.

On may way out of the store, I noticed a man and a woman, both about the same age as me walking ahead. Not thinking much of it, I proceeded to my car and opened the door when I heard the man yell, "nice shirt!" I looked over and saw him pointing to his chest. The man was wearing a TWLOHA shirt too.

I had never heard of TWLOHA until a few weeks ago, when I was searching online for ways to make a difference. I stumbled across the TWLOHA website and read about the organization. Inspired by the work they do, I ordered a shirt from their online store. This was the first day that I wore my TWLOHA shirt out in public, and I was genuinely surprised to see this gentleman wearing the same shirt.

I was curious to hear his story, but I didn't want to overstep my boundaries, considering his reasons were most likely personal. I asked if he was involved with TWLOHA. He shook his head 'no' and explained that his mother had committed suicide last year. I told him that I lost my cousin to suicide as well. We talked for a moment about increasing awareness about depression and suicide prevention. I didn't get the man's name, and we only talked for a few minutes, while standing there in the parking lot. The encounter was brief but powerful.

The following night, I received a phone call in response to one of the emails I sent out. The woman on the other end of the line was the founder of the Suncoast Yellow Ribbon Chapter. I told her that I would like to volunteer my time, and help her out with the annual SYRC fund-raising event. I also shared some ideas that I have for a promotion to raise money for the organization during September, which is suicide prevention month. She was easy to talk to, and the tone of our conversation quickly turned more serious. She told me how she lost her 17-year-old son to suicide in 2002, and she was the one who discovered him. A couple weeks later, his best friend killed himself as well. I shed tears as I talked to this woman. I wanted to jump through the phone and hug her. I wanted to help her in some way. In order to heal from this, she needs time and support.

I share a common goal with the man from Target and the woman who lost her son, in that we are all working to communicate a message of hope and compassion, while increasing awareness about depression and suicide prevention. We want people to know that it's OK to talk about these things. If you suffer, you are not alone. There are many ways to overcome this illness, and it does not have to consume you or define you.

Here is a link to the SYRC website, if you would like to learn more: http://www.suncoastyr.org/

And if you or someone you know is suffering, immediate help is available 24 hours a day at 1-800-SUICIDE (1-800-784-2433).

Telling Chrissy

Now that I'm embarking on the journey of writing my book, I feel as though it's important to communicate with those who are close to me. There's no doubt that my story will be shocking and hard to read for some, specifically - my family. I've spent my entire life hiding my depression, so it's a strange feeling picking up the phone and discussing it openly. I told my dad last week. He's one of the most caring and light-hearted people I know. He was genuinely surprised and concerned to hear that I suffered from this illness; he had no clue.

It's interesting... I must have appeared totally normal and functional on the outside, even though I was hurting so badly inside. I became a professional at hiding the pain. I didn't want my family to worry about me - especially after all that we had been through. So, I just accepted the fact that the pain was a part of me. When things got really bad, I made sure that no one saw my tears. I worked hard to keep it that way.

My sister is really the only person who knew about it, and even she didn't find out until recently. She finally figured it out, after a horrible night that could have taken my life (which I explain more about in the book). She gave me an ultimatum and dragged me kicking and screaming to a psychologist two years ago, who promptly diagnosed me. I was then sent to a psychiatrist who put me on medication. We told our mom, and that was it. Just my mom and sister knew, and I had every intention of keeping it that way... that is, until I got better and realized that I had finally found the subject matter for my book.

Yesterday, I told my cousin. This was a big conversation, and here's why:

My family is very close. Growing up, my four cousins were more like my sisters and brothers. My mom was a flight attendant, so my older cousins (Shelly and Chrissy) took care of me and my sister Vanessa when mom was away. Brad was the same age as me. We grew up in the same town, had the same friends and played the same sports. People would joke that we were "the twins" in school. Technically, he was my cousin. In my world, he was my brother. Jeff, our youngest cousin, is a year older than my sister. We were a big, happy family (or so everyone thought)... the popular kids, the athletes.

On July 20, 1998, Brad committed suicide. He shot himself while sitting in his jeep by the lake we grew up on. He was 20 years old. The police found a nine page suicide letter on the passenger's seat. One of those pages was written to me.

I know that there have been many unanswered questions over the years, and there are still open wounds - 11 years after the fact. It will always be that way. His death changed us, and we will never fully recover from it.

So, when I called Chrissy yesterday, I talking a mile a minute. I told her everything. We spent a long time on the phone... We spoke about Brad a little, but we mostly talked about my book and ways that I plan to get more involved with depression awareness and suicide prevention programs. She asked me two important questions. 1) Do I think my fate would have been different if I hadn't seen first-hand how Brad's death affected our family? and 2) Am I ready and prepared to do this (in reference to writing the book)?

The answer to question one will be its own chapter in the book. And the answer to question two is a no-brainer. Yes, I'm ready and yes, I'm prepared. If I hadn't found the light, then I would still be hiding. But I have found peace within myself now, and I know that my purpose is to help other people who suffer.

Bradley Richard King (June 2, 1978 - July 20, 1998)
May the Sun Always Shine on You