Living with mental illness
My adventures in living with mental illness; namely Bipolar II disorder, PTSD, and trichotillomania.
Last week, I used the analogy of my life as a house, and talked about ten basics that make up its foundation. If those basics are the foundation, then self-soothing can be seen as the windows and doors to my house. When I’m anxious or afraid, I’m closed off to the world — windows and doors shut. When I’m able to self-soothe, those windows and doors are able to open.
Read MoreLast week, I talked about the three factors that brought me to a place of joy and, more importantly, emotional regulation: taking care of my basic needs, learning self-soothing techniques, and community. This week, I’m going to to talk about taking care of the basics: the foundation of living a stable and healthy life.
Read MoreTwo weeks ago, I wrote about joy, and how much of a new, strange feeling it was after living with depression and anxiety (etc.) for so long. I talked about how I felt the most alive I’ve ever felt in who-knows-how-long. But are all my days filled with joy now? No. Am I always filled with contentment and happiness? Certainly not. But that was never my goal in getting treatment. The goal was not to replace all the bad feelings with good feelings and be stuck in that shiny-happy place forever, but to feel the appropriate feelings at the appropriate times.
Read MoreIt's nearly spring in Portland and there are blossoms on trees starting to open up all around—crocuses pushing their way out of the ground—and the colors are spectacular. I try to be mindful of their beauty, as I take it all in, but, what I notice is not just the things in bloom, but all of the trees and bushes and flowers that have yet to open up. They're still waiting to bloom in their own time.
Read MoreWhen I started my outpatient therapy program, I didn't know what to expect. I thought it would help me learn some coping skills (which I have), and I hoped it might bring me some peace (which it has, as well), but I didn't expect to find something that I haven't felt in a long time: joy. Overwhelming joy.
Read MoreIt's been stormy in my brain lately. Full of fear. Full of anxiety. As you probably noticed, I didn't write last week, and that was because I was so engulfed in the storms of my brain that nothing would come out. I could barely come out of my shell and make it to my therapy program. On my one day off of therapy last week (last Thursday, when I usually publish my blog posts) I spent the day sleeping...all day. I would wake up and eat a meal and then go back to sleep. It didn't feel like any sort of human existence that I would recommend.
Read MoreAt the time of writing this I've almost been through one whole week of my Intensive Outpatient (Psychiatric) Program. It has been a roller coaster of a week, feeling all sorts of emotions...even ones that I didn't realize I had in me. When I first started the program I was completely anxious about going through therapy with a bunch of strangers and sharing scary parts of my life with them but, to my surprise, it's gotten easier. Why? Because each time I share something, there's at least one person who has been where I've been, or are currently in the same spot. And there are so many instances where others have shared something and I've nodded my head with–eyes welled up with tears–and thought, "me too."
Read MoreI'm at the bottom of the outside edge of a crater staring up. In front of me are 1,020 steep and uneven stairs to get to the top of the crater's edge. The climb is almost completely vertical (at least it feels that way). The "stairs" are wooden boards shoved underneath an old railway track of some kind. They are not up to code. Some are wonky, some don't have any ground beneath them, and some of them force you to practically climb up them with your hands. This is my hike for the day: to make it up all of those steps, (and climb a little further) to get to a supposedly amazing viewpoint.
Read MoreIn one week I will be taking a medical leave of absence and checking into an intensive outpatient psychiatric program. While I don't know all of the details of the program yet, I know that it involves various types of therapy sessions several days a week, and will last at least a month. This is hard for me to admit; it's hard for me to share. I have just as many preconceived notions about what this program will look like as you're probably having right now. (Movies involving hokey portrayals of group therapy sessions come to mind.) But, despite my preconceived notions, and despite the anxiety I have about participating in something like this, I know it's what I need to do. I know it's what I need to do if I have any chance of getting better.
Read MoreI had two big realizations recently. The first is this: all of this time that I've been living with mental illness, I was under the assumption that I would be cured someday. Cured of depression, anxiety, trichotillomania, and everything else I live with. I thought it was all just a sickness (like coming down with the flu), and if I found the right combination of medications and participated in the right combination of therapies, I would eventually be fixed and function like a normal human someday. But then, it hit me: what if I can't be cured? What if my mental illness is not like a sickness, but something inside me that is permanently broken—something that will always be a part of my life? What if I'm broken in a way that can't be completely fixed?
Read MoreI have a thing for transitions. Musical transitions, that is, on albums. You know those magical moments when one song seamlessly fades into the next one? Or, if you're listening to a playlist, you hear a song that perfectly follows the previous song; it's like they were meant to be together.
Read MoreTomorrow will be the start of another year; another leg of my journey through the wilderness. But, I'm not afraid. Instead, I'm grateful that I'm still here to experience what lies ahead. Since I have already said enough about what I have left behind, I wanted to share a list of things that I'm taking with me on my journey this year. These are the things that will keep me moving forward as I travel into the unknown.
It's Christmas Eve day today: the time to celebrate the birth of Jesus. My family has a tradition of observing this holiday by going to a beautiful candlelit service at church and singing hymns of rejoicing. Joy to the world, the Lord has come. But I don't feel joy. I don't feel like celebrating much. And I don't go to those candlelit church services anymore, because I know that all I will feel is pain, sadness, and anxiety.
Read MoreFor most of my life, religion (specifically Christianity) has been a part of who I am. I was baptized as an infant; grew up going to church every weekend; went to a Christian university for undergrad; and was a youth ministry leader for many years. You may be wondering what this has to do with my mental health, and I suppose the answer is that my faith and mental health have always had a complicated relationship with each other.
Read MoreOne of the hardest parts of living with anxiety and depression is coming to terms with reality; realizing my own limitations because of my illnesses. When I was young, I was told that I could be anything I wanted to be—no dream was too big—and I believed that. I started compiling a long list of dream jobs early on: a veterinarian, a musician/singer, a ballerina, an actor/comedian, a fashion designer, a philosopher, a chef, a writer...the list goes on. I have always had plenty of ideas of what I want to do (in a perfect world, I'd do them all) but the struggle has been figuring out what I can do.
Read MoreI'm having a terrible time trying to write this week, for two main reasons. One: there are a lot of shitty and terrifying things going on in the world going on right now, and they're making me feel overwhelmed. Two: I'm in the middle of some significant medication adjustments, and everything feels pretty hazy right now. I'm in that interim period where I'm waiting for my mood to level out again...emotional limbo
Read MoreLast week I wrote about a recent bad depressive episode that I experienced. This week, I want to give some back-story, so you can have a little more insight into how I got there. I know, technically, prologues are supposed to go before the actual story but, for some reason, I felt like this is the order in which the story needed to be told. So, maybe it's an epilogue. I'm not entirely sure.
Read MoreI'm curled into a ball on the chair in the corner of my bedroom. I'm in my pajamas that I've worn for the past 24 hours. And, of course, I haven't showered in those past 24 hours. My eyes are puffy and my face is wet from the tears that I've been crying for no particular reason other than it hurts to be alive right now. I'm full of emotion: sadness, hopelessness, fear, anger, guilt; but, at the same time, I feel numb. I feel everything and nothing all at the same time. I am one flaming-hot mess.
Read MoreLast week, I shared a bit about my scoial anxiety and a particular example of how it manifested while I was at a large gathering. But, my social anxiety doesn't just come up in these "typical" social situations, it comes up everywhere. When I'm feeling anxious, any situation where I'm around other humans can raise my anxiety: grocery shopping, the lunch room at work, or even walking down the street. When I feel anxious, people don't feel safe to me. And, since I live in a sizeable city, there are a lot of people around, which means I spend a lot of time afraid. On the "better" days, I'm afraid that the people I encounter will judge me or think that I'm stupid. On my worst days, I'm afraid that people will hurt me. It's completely irrational, but so hard to turn off. The following is a small slice of what it's like for me on a typical day when I'm feeling anxious.
Read MoreI've been watching Call the Midwife lately on the Netflix and, as I was making my way through the first season's Christmas special, this quote from dear Chummy (my favorite character) jumped out at me. Although the subject matter was slightly different in the episode, I thought that this was a perfect description of my own struggles with social anxiety: dreading being noticed and fearing you aren't visible at all. This paradoxical feeling—the desire to be seen and not be seen at the same time—is the core of my social anxiety. Most days I live with this feeling wrapped so tightly around my chest, it feels like a boa constrictor hugging me from the inside.
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