Dear World:

            I really hope my story helps someone here. My story is different from everyone's but it has one thing in common; depression. So here we go.

        31.5 years ago, I was born in a country that no longer exists. How's that for a start? No it didn't get abducted by aliens. I was born in the USSR or Belarus now; I'm bilingual (Russian and English). I can honestly say that the happiest childhood I had was between birth and 6 years old. I remember way back to the age of 2; my grandparents' house which my grandpa built with his own hands. G-d Bless him, he'll be 92 years old this year. Though I had/have both parents; my grandfather when I was growing was more of a father then my father actually was and is. Though he lives in the same house as us....he's more of a sperm donor than anything else. I don't care anymore but it hurt as hell when I was kid.

        Getting slightly off track because there's so much to tell. For a long time I wished I had remembered that day in May when I was 3 but now I really don't. I'll do with the story from my mom. Next year on April 26th will be the 30th anniversary of the worst nuclear disaster in the world; better known as Chernobyl to those of you who have brushed up on your history. Well my family and I are survivors of that because 60% of the radioactive fallout fell on Belarus. And the USSR hid it from the world of course and it wasn't until Sweden and Germany sounded the alarm that the rest of the world found out and the USSR was forced to admit to the catastrophe. From April 26th to May 1st, no one knew anything. I was outside breathing the "fresh air". May 1st is a holiday in Europe so my mom kept me outside the whole day. It was the day we found out the truth.

        Pandemonium reigned as people were screaming and crying. Our town had only one Geiger meter and it was at the train station. The line to it was so long, you'd think people from neighboring towns came. Thankfully and luckily, my grandfather was our town's photographer so he knew people. We were able to go to the front of the line to test me. I tested negative. But none of the rest of my family members ever got tested so it always made me wonder if their ailments at any time had anything to do with radiation. My father was working in a different town at an airport on the tarmac as he was an engineer (a prestigious job back in the USSR) and he was working without his shirt because those days were very warm. After the news came down, the whole tarmac and soil underneath was bulldozed because so much radiation had seeped into it. He too never got tested.

        In 1989, we left the USSR just as it started to crumble. We immigrated here to the states as political refugees. We left a very anti-sematic country behind that in a few yrs wouldn't be a country anymore. We got here Feb 8th 1990 (celebrated 25 yrs this year). We went through the immigration process; 3 wks in Austria and 4 months in Italy. No language, barely any clothing, or money. 5 of us came to here to Connecticut that night; Mom, father, grandparents, and me. It was then that my childhood ended and my nightmare in this country began.

        I was never sexually assaulted or harassed that way, but coming to a strange country, without knowing the language, culture, or the style made me a target for the worst kinds of bullies; teachers. In first grade, I got hit on the neck by a teacher in front of the whole class because she didn't understand me while the whole class laughed. I suppressed that memory until after my first suicide attempt years later. ESL helped me learn the language but I was still a massive target for bullies. I was tripped in 3rd grade when I asked to go to the bathroom and the teacher turned the other cheek. I barely had any friends. I used to keep to myself all the time, afraid if I spoke up, I'd get into trouble so I let them call me all sorts of names.....some I can't even repeat because to this day I can't look at certain cartoon characters without cringing.

        In Middle School, instead of eating lunch alone and having ppl point at me and laugh I would escape to the library and play on the computer. I'd also joined the choir in elementary school and I've been singing forever. In Middle school I also joined the drama club. It was fun but even there, I couldn't get away from a particular bully who told me in front of everyone that I was "born ugly". To an 8th grader with zilch self-esteem that was like a knife through the heart. To make matters harder, I had nowhere to hide, I'd come home and have to be a referee to two fighting parents. It was expected of me. The old Soviet method was that a child was supposed to understand adult situations and deal with them. In my case I had to literally get btwn them and shoo them to different corners. When I would come home in tears over a particular brutal day of bullying begging my mom to home school me, my mom would tell me to ignore it.

        It wouldn't be until years later that she acknowledged how bad it was and that she didn't understand the full extent of it because she was brought up in a different country. Somewhere in there, I'd had enough and grabbed one of my dad's ties and put one end around my neck and the other on a door handle and pushed with my hands and feet (it wasn't a very thought out plan) but I was in so much raw pain I didn't care. It didn't work and I covered the red marks on my neck with sweaters. Finally, my parents took me to my first psychiatrist. She was the one who diagnosed me with depression and anxiety. Somewhere, in one of those sessions I blurted out about the first grade teacher hitting me; the memory had come back.

        The shrink was mortified and asked if she could tell my parents about my suicide attempt and the teacher thing. I gave her permission. I figured if my parents didn't believe me or listen to me, perhaps they'd listen to a professional. When they first heard it....there was a lot of denial but she sat them straight. That if they wanted their daughter, their only child to live, they had to get their heads out of the sand and start helping. So they started paying more attention but it was a slow process. One good thing happened from being in the drama club in 8th grade, I started very slowly, finding my voice. And it started with a member of the cast standing up for me to the bully who called me ugly. I had never had anyone stand up for me before. So in my eyes this awesome young man named Danny will always be my hero. After that I told the drama director about the bullying and gave her an ultimatum which I'd also never done before. I told her that it was either me or the bully. She booted him.

        HS was slightly easier though not by much. I still sat alone at lunch and got picked on including some sexual harassment by one teacher who would only give out A's to girls who wore short skirts. It was quite nasty actually. After I graduated I learned they made him department head. More like department ass. I had a bit more friends then but I was still bullied by teachers like music and drama director. For some weird reason they thought they were superior. My grades were never good because I was always anxious and depressed and since my parents were still in semi denial they told me that they only job I would ever get if I didn't get my grades up were at McDonald's. It's haunted me till this day.

        No other time was that more evident then during one show when the drama director and his then wife took me aside into some room and berated for being mean to my actors (seniors got to be directors). They heard the story from a third person and never having verified it with my actors, just unleashed on me. I was so pale I thought I was going to throw up. When I told my actors what happened and I was near tears, they were appalled and went to clear the air with the director who never apologized to me.

        Next came the car accident. Being driven home from a cast party one night; the kid driving me home and a few others wasn't paying attention to where he was going and slammed into the car in front of us going 60mph on a 15 mph tiny pitch black road. 8 people total with me being injured; me being the worst. Long story short, the drama director knew who was injured, considering I came to school with a cane and had a bump on my forehead the size of a tennis ball, he made sure all the others were fine who had scratches and such but never asked me how I was. I missed 4 days of school that week. Not once did he approach me to see how I was doing. The migraines I started having from that crash were mind splitting; I had a bad concussion and a hematoma on my forehead that I still have till this day over my left eyebrow. I saw different neurologists who gave me different pills but what ultimately helped was acupuncture. I quit the drama club after that. I'd never quit anything. But I lost all respect for the director as a human being and couldn't be under his direction anymore.

        To add insult to injury at the end of the year, the drama club voted me worst dressed and he had a wonderful laugh at my expense. I wanted to strangle him.

        Finally I graduated HS. My parents McDonald's premonition didn't come true because even with my low grades and shitty SAT's I got into 8 out of the 12 schools I applied to. And that's when I decided it was time for a change. I needed a voice. I couldn't be a doormat people could wipe their feet on or spit on or hit or trip. So that summer of 2001, I started my transformation from a weakling to a strong person. College of course had its own set of rules but at least I knew I was starting off with a clean slate just like everyone else. Even those popular bitches were at the bottom of the totem pole. Through trial and error I learned that trust and respect are earned not given out like candy. After spending 2 years in that particular university, I grew out if it and its biz program wasn't that good at the time. I also managed to have a 5ft stalker (I'm 5'9)...that's a whole lot of don't ask. So in 2003 I transferred to Pace Univ in NYC. Their biz program rocked and still does. It was a serious culture shock for me; growing up in CT and then coming to a school where the population was 80% Russian. Let's just say things got interesting.

        My family and I also traveled a lot around the world and on cruises and such and each time I honed my skills to not be shy and be approachable and funny. I started having hobbies that I really enjoyed; I'm a semi certified scuba diver and been diving since '99. I read books like a dervish. I'm a writer which most of you know. I'm a published author of poetry and I'm also a wee bit of a daredevil. And that's just the tip of the iceberg. Well I was prior to getting ill.

        I started having something I never dreamt I would have; accomplishments. Everything that I was afraid of doing and then overcoming that fear was another accomplishment. I also never dreamt I would have a profound positive effect on ppl. From 5th grade through 12th grade I was a part of the big brother/big sister program and got to work with a lot of kids with Downs Syndrome. I worked with one girl in particular named Cathy and I loved her and she was a sweetheart. When I graduated from HS and went to college, I lost track of her until one day my mom and I ran into her and her mom at the mall. She ran over and hugged me; she was so excited to see me as I was her. But then something unexpected happened. She ran back to her mom and tugged on her mom's sleeve and said: "Mommy mommy look! That's my big sister!" Pointing at me excitedly. Her mom came over and thanked me and hugged me and tears came to my eyes because I never thought by just being there for her once or twice a week would have such a profound affect. But it did on me that day.

        I think a huge part of me changed after that day. I started to really turn myself around. I went from that old doormat to a renegade. Not only did I learn how to stand up for myself that would scare ppl half to death; don't worry no violence (that part was fun) but I also protected those who were being bullied.

        Meanwhile, my depression and anxiety were fluctuating back and forth. Out of the blue I began having something I dubbed "episodes"; I started to fall to the floor if I was stressed and I would wake up instantly except I would be paralyzed from the neck or waste down. These episodes would last anywhere from a few mins to 3.5 hours was the longest. That day I really thought I was going to die. I lay crying on the floor because no one was home. The phone was 2 ft away and I couldn't get to it. It rang and rang and rang. It was cloudy outside but I couldn't move. All of a sudden the sun came out and I heard wind chimes; we didn't have wind chimes at the time. And our neighbors aren't as close to hear theirs if they had any at the time. Suddenly, I warm beam of light hit my face and I heard a female voice in my ear. She said, it wasn't my time yet and that I had a purpose on this earth. I cried even harder. Then the light disappeared. 10 minutes my parents came home, found me and helped me lay down on the bed.

        That night we watched the news and the weather and the CT meteorologist said that we were supposed to have a gloomy and rainy day and then around 5 or 5:30 the clouds just disappeared and the sun came out, that's when I heard the voice. I knew it was one of my spirit guides. And yes I believe in these things because I'm a little different than most people; I'm a sensitive, empath, and a healer and have been since I was a child. I've seen things, including dream premonitions and such that are too much to be coincidence. I believe in all of it. And it is ok if you don't. But that day it really hit home. Those episodes disappeared years later without warning just like they came.

        My next sense of accomplishment was a massive one by my own standards but it led to a lot of disappointment in other people later on. When it was time for me to graduate college in 2005, our commencement was held at Radio City Music Hall; the most amazing stage on planet earth. I auditioned and beat out 10 other people to be the commencement singer. On May 25, 2005 (10 yrs this yr), I sang alone in front of 6K ppl on that stage, the national anthem and the school alma mater. There's footage on youtube though my mom filmed it and it looks like the place is having an earthquake. She's not allowed to film me ever again lol. Radio City will always have a special place in my heart because it's another extreme fear I have faced; I have extreme stage fright. But I did it! I was very proud of myself.

        Unfortunately, not all ppl saw it that way. Each time something happened at I would speak about it or some other accomplishment, ppl made me feel like I wasn't allowed to be proud of myself. It took many years for me to be able to talk about any of them. It was if they were jealous or uncomfortable. I don't understand it to this day. None of it. It's not like this stuff fell into my lap; I worked my ass off for everything I got. Nothing has ever come easy to me, ever. So why make me feel bad? When other people had something amazing happen, I was happy for them but they would never return the gesture. It made my depression worse.

        After graduation, I was thrust into the "real world" without any help from my school with job help. I ended up working as my mom's assistant for a bit but my depression and anxiety was getting worse and worse. And then I did a very stupid thing but I didn't know at the time. I went off the anti-depressant I was on at the time cold turkey. What happened was that my depression ran away with me and I attempted suicide again. Again not planned but it started with an argument with my mom where I ran outside in the freezing December in nothing but jeans, slippers, and a sweatshirt. I ran to my middle school which we live near now. I knew all the nooks and crannies where I could hide and no one would ever find me or at last until the hypothermia took over I froze to death. I had to keep moving because both of my parents were in the cars driving around. Finally, I ended up on the track and sat on the highest bleacher. I figured that would be the perfect spot.

        Then the strangest thing happened; it was pitch black and I saw some random dude enter the court and wouldn't you know it? My survival instinct kicked in. I didn't know who he was but it was like 11pm on a workday and it was pitch black....who knew who he was. I was already nearing hypothermia or the first stages but in the back of my mind, I figured if I was going to go out, it would be on my own terms not on anyone else. So I quietly exited and left the track not to be seen or heard. And just as I was looking for another place to hide, my mom's car turned the corner and just before I collapsed, she dragged me into the back seat. They took me home and warmed me up with blankets and tea. From that point on, my mom promised to help me anyway she could.  

        I started seeing a therapist in 2006 who I still see on and off till this day. In fact I had an app with her before I started writing this. I got my first real job in Sept. of 2006 as a paralegal in the law firm (bleh); that lasted two years but they built me from the ground up and though I'm thankful for that. It was like being back in grade school; one of the senior partners was a serious bully and in 2008 I was on his target list because I was sick and he decided that he would make me quit through intimidation. I took a month leave of absence and he and his assistant harassed my family through weekly calls. My PCP at the time was pissed to high hell because he hated her notes and she said in 20 yrs working in America plus back in the USSR, she never had issues. Make a really long story short, he kicked me out for being sick and then blamed me that I quit. I hired an attorney and fought for unemployment for 9 months, during which I developed panic attacks which I've never had. We finally won the unemployment.

        Group therapy and a change in my love life in 2010 helped boot the panic attacks. It was also the year I started a new chapter of my life. In Sept. 2010 I started my MBA; ironically at the same school I started my undergrad. The biz program got better. I got a chance to do some amazing things like a study abroad in Luxembourg for 2 weeks and another wk in London visiting friends. I met amazing ppl. I decided on switching careers in 2012 to become a college professor to teach management to the next generation so they would know how to treat their employees and not how I was treated. I graduated with a 3.5 GPA in 2013 with my MBA and a 3.75 in 2011 with a grad cert in Leadership. The girl who barely made B's in grade school nearly graduated with honors with an MBA. I had it all lined up....I was going to take some time off that summer then look for a part time job and start my Ph.D in Jan of 2014. I found an online accelerated program that accepted me.

        And then my world again came crashing down. Right before I started my last year of my MBA; I started getting exhausted and my PCP diagnosed me with ME. But I didn't fully comprehend what it meant till I graduated and crashed. All of a sudden all of my goals and dreams, got put into invisible storage. I lost my best friend because she threw me away in the trash as I was ill and she wanted only happy ppl in her life. I disowned relatives. My depression got so bad that I went to the dark place and spent 4 hours crying on the phone with my froggy sister Lisa because of whom I survived. My depression got so bad that the meds I was on didn't work even when we upped them to maximum. So my PCP rediagnosed with MDD which is the same thing that took Robin Williams' life. I was put on diff meds and knock on wood they are working. When the depression gets worse than an illness without a cure that could possibly kill you; you've got a problem.

        Because ME is still "invisible" to most doctors; most told me I had Lyme disease when in reality the ME came from EBV and Hashimoto's. So I had a spinal tap done which was done incorrectly and gave the world's worst headache for 5 days until I got a blood patch. Then I had rocket fuel as I called it or Bicillin LA inserted into my boom boom for 9 wks. It's like taking a hot poker, sticking it into lava, and them shooting the cement like fluid into your butt muscle. Nothing worked. My thyroid fluctuated like crazy which brought me back to Chernobyl. It was torture, pure and simple. I had 18 vials of blood removed at one time.

        But you know something? I'm still here. I lost hope a lot but then something reminds me not to give up. I've been through so much that I can't just throw in the towel. So you can't either. You are loved. We don't know each personally. I hope my story, inspired at least one of you. So now you know a bit more about me. As I lay bedridden, praying a few times a day for a miracle for me and all of my chronically ill sisters and brothers; each and every one of you are in my thoughts too. G-d Bless you all....find the courage to push through. Let love be your guide.

Thank you for reading my autobiography. Your thoughts/opinions mean the world to me.

xoxo