Sometimes I just feel too many things all at once, particularly with negative emotions. The emotions happen all at once, or so quickly that it feels like they happen all at once, and then I'm just left with this overwhelming ball of negative things. I can't even separate the feelings to figure them out most of the time. The overwhelming feelings also create more anxiety, and everything piles up. I call it emotional overload.
Prior to therapy, I could push the emotions down and bury them so I couldn't have to feel them. Since I've been in therapy and have opened myself up to my feelings, I can't just bury them anymore. I had to figure out a new way to process and deal with all my negative feelings when I experienced emotional overload recently. I didn't want to just cry about it, and after emotional overload had made it hard to sleep the night before, I was super frustrated.
As I lay there at 6:30 A.M., after only getting three hours of sleep the night before, I had tried everything. I tried deep breathing. I tried my mindfulness meditation. Nothing was really working, and more feelings and anxiety were piling up. So, I came up with what I've started to refer to as the Laundry Basket Technique.
I imagined that my emotions were all pieces of laundry that had just been dumped haphazardly into a big laundry basket. The laundry was all balled up and wrinkled. Then I imagined myself taking out the laundry in the basket (my negative feelings) one piece of laundry at a time. I would pick something out of the basket, and I would identify it (Oh, this is guilt...). I would smooth it out, and would then fold the piece of laundry and put it in the stack where it belonged. I didn't toss anything away or fight with the it. I just folded it, and I put it in its stack. I did that with each piece of laundry in the basket until the basket was empty.
The Laundry Basket Technique was effective, and I felt better. It worked because as I had to separate the laundry AKA my feelings, I could pull out one feeling at a time and recognize it. As I folded the laundry, I had to think about what about the situation brought out that feeling. Then, as I put the piece of laundry AKA the specific negative feeling that I was looking at in its stack, I allowed it to exist in a space that I made for it. When I allowed the feeling to exist, I could feel it for a bit, and then move on to the next piece of laundry. (Moving through a feeling is much easier when you don't fight the feeling.) Also, viewing the feelings as laundry allowed me to view my feelings as less intimidating things.
If you want to use a similar technique to deal with your feelings, you don't have to use the image of laundry in a laundry basket. You can come up with whatever image you need to use to make it less intimidating. The whole object is to separate all the jumbled up feelings so that you can recognize them individually and then allow each feeling to exist in a space that you create for it.
I'll end with this: It's okay to feel whatever you feel about any situation. I know that sometimes feelings, especially lots of feelings at the same time, can be scary. When lots of feelings happen at the same time, the only way to move through them and move on is to take a step back and pull all the feelings apart to deal with them one at a time. Dealing with them is always better than burying them or pretending that you don't feel them.
Wednesday, May 10, 2017
Wednesday, April 26, 2017
Self-Diagnosing Mental Health Conditions
I hear people say quite often, "I have depression." Others say, "I have anxiety." Still others say, "I've got ADHD or ADD or something." Since they openly brought up the topic of mental health, I engage in the conversation. Usually my first question is something like, "So, do you see a therapist?" Their response is something like, "Oh, no...I don't do anything like that. I haven't even talked to my doctor about it. I haven't been diagnosed, but I just know I have it."
I tend to pause when someone tells me they have a mental health condition but they've never even brought up with their doctor because I'm not entirely sure how to proceed without coming off as a mental health "snob" of sorts. I'm a little concerned and very curious as to how they have arrived at the conclusion that they have a clinical mental health condition. They usually go on to give me an explanation that boils down to something like, "I know a friend that has this disorder/I read about it online/I read a book about it, and I have some of the symptoms." Basically, the person had self-diagnosed their mental health condition.
I'm not saying that the person does or does not have the mental health condition that they have self-diagnosed. I'm saying that self-diagnosis is not the same as a clinical diagnosis. I'm also saying that self-diagnosing yourself with any condition, whether it's a mental health condition or a physical health condition, is NEVER a good idea. Self-diagnosis is subjective, unreliable, and a lot of times self-diagnosis is inaccurate, even if you've done a lot of research (and even if you have a psychology degree). It takes years of clinical training (and the proper credentials) to be able to accurately diagnose a mental health condition. Also keep in mind that some other health conditions (a thyroid issue or an autoimmune disorder) may cause symptoms of a mental health condition, which is another reason that you shouldn't self-diagnose.
I've been down this road. I left Psych 102 pretty sure I had Schizophrenia because the symptoms I experienced as part of Pure O sounded awfully similar to some of the symptoms of Schizophrenia. I was wrong. The terror really set in at that point that if I ever told even a trained professional what was wrong they would lock me up in an in-patient residential facility, and so I didn't tell a soul for five years after that.
It's super easy to see a list of symptoms and to think about times in your life when you definitely experienced something similar. Maybe you got halfway to work, and you suddenly wondered if you left the stove on, so you had to turn around to go check. Maybe a whole list of things have gone wrong for you lately, and one day, you just don't even feel motivated to get out of bed, and so you stay in bed for the day. Maybe you have a whole lot of energy one day, and you bounce around from task to task or conversation topic to conversation topic so that other people can't keep up with you. All of these things are listed as the symptoms of one mental health condition or another, but just because you experience these things sometimes does not mean you have that mental health condition.
Don't self-diagnose yourself based on some vague and, more than likely, inadequate information that you gather from friends, from a book, or online. It's like going on WebMD. You go there to get an idea about why you're breaking out in a weird rash, and you exit your browser pretty sure you're going to die of the plague. You're terrified. You go to the doctor, and they tell you that you're having an allergic to the cream you put on a mosquito bite. So, you realize that self-diagnosing your condition was a ridiculous thing to do. It would have saved so much effort and fear on your part if you would have gone to the doctor in the first place instead of putting your life in the hands of a website that can't see you or listen to you.
It's never a good idea to just take your chances with unreliable sources when your health and well-being are at stake. Before you start thinking you have a mental health condition, and especially before you try any medications, please, go to an actual mental health professional. An untreated mental health condition or trying the wrong medication based on what you think you're dealing with can have disastrous consequences. (I also went down that road when I tried the wrong medication for my condition after a misdiagnosis, and I feel lucky to have survived those five agonizing days.)
So, when should you say that you have a mental health condition? When you see a doctor and they run all the necessary tests to make sure that another physical health condition isn't to blame, and then they tell you bluntly that they think you have a mental health condition. It's okay to recognize that something has changed with your mental health, and to then do some research on mental health conditions. It's even okay to take that research in with you to your doctor to show them what you were thinking. (I did that, and that's how we found out I have Pure O in addition to Panic Disorder.) Just talk to a medical and/or mental health professional first before you run with some information that "proves" you have a mental health condition.
I'll end with this: If you notice something about your mental health has changed, please, go to your doctor to rule out any other health issues, and then go to a mental health professional. Don't just look something up online and go with that because it SEEMS accurate. Also, don't assume any behavior is a symptom of a mental health condition unless that behavior causes you significant distress or someone close to you that you trust suggests that a behavior may be cause for concern.
I tend to pause when someone tells me they have a mental health condition but they've never even brought up with their doctor because I'm not entirely sure how to proceed without coming off as a mental health "snob" of sorts. I'm a little concerned and very curious as to how they have arrived at the conclusion that they have a clinical mental health condition. They usually go on to give me an explanation that boils down to something like, "I know a friend that has this disorder/I read about it online/I read a book about it, and I have some of the symptoms." Basically, the person had self-diagnosed their mental health condition.
I'm not saying that the person does or does not have the mental health condition that they have self-diagnosed. I'm saying that self-diagnosis is not the same as a clinical diagnosis. I'm also saying that self-diagnosing yourself with any condition, whether it's a mental health condition or a physical health condition, is NEVER a good idea. Self-diagnosis is subjective, unreliable, and a lot of times self-diagnosis is inaccurate, even if you've done a lot of research (and even if you have a psychology degree). It takes years of clinical training (and the proper credentials) to be able to accurately diagnose a mental health condition. Also keep in mind that some other health conditions (a thyroid issue or an autoimmune disorder) may cause symptoms of a mental health condition, which is another reason that you shouldn't self-diagnose.
I've been down this road. I left Psych 102 pretty sure I had Schizophrenia because the symptoms I experienced as part of Pure O sounded awfully similar to some of the symptoms of Schizophrenia. I was wrong. The terror really set in at that point that if I ever told even a trained professional what was wrong they would lock me up in an in-patient residential facility, and so I didn't tell a soul for five years after that.
It's super easy to see a list of symptoms and to think about times in your life when you definitely experienced something similar. Maybe you got halfway to work, and you suddenly wondered if you left the stove on, so you had to turn around to go check. Maybe a whole list of things have gone wrong for you lately, and one day, you just don't even feel motivated to get out of bed, and so you stay in bed for the day. Maybe you have a whole lot of energy one day, and you bounce around from task to task or conversation topic to conversation topic so that other people can't keep up with you. All of these things are listed as the symptoms of one mental health condition or another, but just because you experience these things sometimes does not mean you have that mental health condition.
Don't self-diagnose yourself based on some vague and, more than likely, inadequate information that you gather from friends, from a book, or online. It's like going on WebMD. You go there to get an idea about why you're breaking out in a weird rash, and you exit your browser pretty sure you're going to die of the plague. You're terrified. You go to the doctor, and they tell you that you're having an allergic to the cream you put on a mosquito bite. So, you realize that self-diagnosing your condition was a ridiculous thing to do. It would have saved so much effort and fear on your part if you would have gone to the doctor in the first place instead of putting your life in the hands of a website that can't see you or listen to you.
It's never a good idea to just take your chances with unreliable sources when your health and well-being are at stake. Before you start thinking you have a mental health condition, and especially before you try any medications, please, go to an actual mental health professional. An untreated mental health condition or trying the wrong medication based on what you think you're dealing with can have disastrous consequences. (I also went down that road when I tried the wrong medication for my condition after a misdiagnosis, and I feel lucky to have survived those five agonizing days.)
So, when should you say that you have a mental health condition? When you see a doctor and they run all the necessary tests to make sure that another physical health condition isn't to blame, and then they tell you bluntly that they think you have a mental health condition. It's okay to recognize that something has changed with your mental health, and to then do some research on mental health conditions. It's even okay to take that research in with you to your doctor to show them what you were thinking. (I did that, and that's how we found out I have Pure O in addition to Panic Disorder.) Just talk to a medical and/or mental health professional first before you run with some information that "proves" you have a mental health condition.
I'll end with this: If you notice something about your mental health has changed, please, go to your doctor to rule out any other health issues, and then go to a mental health professional. Don't just look something up online and go with that because it SEEMS accurate. Also, don't assume any behavior is a symptom of a mental health condition unless that behavior causes you significant distress or someone close to you that you trust suggests that a behavior may be cause for concern.
Wednesday, April 12, 2017
In the Old Days
"Back in the old days nobody had mental health problems," some "friend" or even a complete stranger will sometimes say when they hear someone say that they live with depression, an anxiety disorder, schizophrenia, or even PTSD. That statement is usually followed by something like, "Nobody back then had anything like that, so it's not a real illness. It's a modern made up thing for people that are lazy/too sensitive/weak."
I read mental health articles and sometimes other mental health blogs online, and in almost every comment section, I see something like the above mentioned statements. Most recently, a dear friend of mine told me that someone actually said something similar to the above mentioned statements to her. Every time I see or hear something like that, I am filled with this Hulk-like rage, and as my blood boils, I want to go on an educational rampage (okay...and maybe I want to punch the person in the face, but I wouldn't actually do that. They can't learn with a busted up face...)
The idea that mental health conditions didn't exist throughout history is simply incorrect. Mental health conditions have existed since humans have existed. Our scientific knowledge has only recently become advanced enough to allow doctors to recognize mental health conditions for what they truly are (an unwell brain) instead of seeing them for what they aren't (demonic possession, witchcraft, punishment from an angry god, or cowardice).
As far back as the ancient Greeks, research has shown the existence of mental health conditions. Back then, it was thought to be one of the four bodily humors out of balance (blood, phlegm, yellow bile, or black bile). Some people were bled or given strange concoctions to treat the out of balance humor, which didn't actually help.
The Salem Witch trials were brought about because some women and men behaved in ways that didn't fit with the societal definition of "normal" behavior. Some of these "witches" were more than likely suffering with some mental health condition. They were branded a witch or someone possessed by the devil or some other demon. (Others had some physical deformity or something non-mental health-related.) Treatment included prayer and other religious practices, but you can't pray away a mental health condition. Then they were exorcised and/or burned at the stake.
Then asylums sprang up all over the place. People that behaved strangely, exhibited criminal behavior, or even "hysterical" or headstrong housewives were packed off into these asylums where they were often chained to walls, strapped to beds, and generally kept out of society.
During World War I, it was noticed that soldiers exposed to the traumas of war behaved strangely. Some even tried to run away from military service. Many were executed by firing squad for cowardice. They had Shell Shock, or Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, as it's known today. These men weren't weak. Would you be completely fine if you saw someone take a bayonet to the face, heard their blood-curdling scream, and then had to yank your weapon out of their face and go on to the next guy? Or do you think something like that might give you nightmares and maybe make you shake uncontrollably every time you had to pick up your weapon? Those soldiers weren't cowards, they had just endured the stress and trauma of war, and it had wreaked havoc on their brains.
Mental health conditions aren't recent made up explanations for why a person is lazy, too sensitive, or weak. Mental health conditions are real medical conditions caused by a brain that is unhealthy. Why didn't people recognize this earlier, you ask. Science. Science hadn't advanced enough until recent history to recognize mental health conditions, but that doesn't mean they are any less real than cancer or diabetes.
If the person still doesn't think mental health conditions are real because "Science can't just do..." Kindly remind them that the Earth is no longer thought to be flat, that Pluto is no longer considered a planet, and that smoking cigarettes is now known to cause cancer thanks to new scientific knowledge. Science changes things, and scientists and doctors make new discoveries all the time. Recognizing and treating mental health conditions is no exception. Science debunked your "in the old days" argument.
I'll end with this: The argument that mental health conditions didn't exist back in the old days is not a valid argument. Are you also going to argue that the Earth is flat based on the biblical phrase "at the four corners of the Earth", or that Pluto is still a planet? You wouldn't tell someone with diabetes that diabetes wasn't real because it wasn't recognized in the Middle Ages, would you? If you wouldn't argue about those scientific advances, why is mental health any different? Stop and ask yourself why you view mental health conditions so differently. The answer is simple: stigma and inadequate information. Please, do some research, ask some questions, before you make something that someone struggles with every day seem like nothing.
I read mental health articles and sometimes other mental health blogs online, and in almost every comment section, I see something like the above mentioned statements. Most recently, a dear friend of mine told me that someone actually said something similar to the above mentioned statements to her. Every time I see or hear something like that, I am filled with this Hulk-like rage, and as my blood boils, I want to go on an educational rampage (okay...and maybe I want to punch the person in the face, but I wouldn't actually do that. They can't learn with a busted up face...)
The idea that mental health conditions didn't exist throughout history is simply incorrect. Mental health conditions have existed since humans have existed. Our scientific knowledge has only recently become advanced enough to allow doctors to recognize mental health conditions for what they truly are (an unwell brain) instead of seeing them for what they aren't (demonic possession, witchcraft, punishment from an angry god, or cowardice).
As far back as the ancient Greeks, research has shown the existence of mental health conditions. Back then, it was thought to be one of the four bodily humors out of balance (blood, phlegm, yellow bile, or black bile). Some people were bled or given strange concoctions to treat the out of balance humor, which didn't actually help.
The Salem Witch trials were brought about because some women and men behaved in ways that didn't fit with the societal definition of "normal" behavior. Some of these "witches" were more than likely suffering with some mental health condition. They were branded a witch or someone possessed by the devil or some other demon. (Others had some physical deformity or something non-mental health-related.) Treatment included prayer and other religious practices, but you can't pray away a mental health condition. Then they were exorcised and/or burned at the stake.
Then asylums sprang up all over the place. People that behaved strangely, exhibited criminal behavior, or even "hysterical" or headstrong housewives were packed off into these asylums where they were often chained to walls, strapped to beds, and generally kept out of society.
During World War I, it was noticed that soldiers exposed to the traumas of war behaved strangely. Some even tried to run away from military service. Many were executed by firing squad for cowardice. They had Shell Shock, or Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, as it's known today. These men weren't weak. Would you be completely fine if you saw someone take a bayonet to the face, heard their blood-curdling scream, and then had to yank your weapon out of their face and go on to the next guy? Or do you think something like that might give you nightmares and maybe make you shake uncontrollably every time you had to pick up your weapon? Those soldiers weren't cowards, they had just endured the stress and trauma of war, and it had wreaked havoc on their brains.
Mental health conditions aren't recent made up explanations for why a person is lazy, too sensitive, or weak. Mental health conditions are real medical conditions caused by a brain that is unhealthy. Why didn't people recognize this earlier, you ask. Science. Science hadn't advanced enough until recent history to recognize mental health conditions, but that doesn't mean they are any less real than cancer or diabetes.
If the person still doesn't think mental health conditions are real because "Science can't just do..." Kindly remind them that the Earth is no longer thought to be flat, that Pluto is no longer considered a planet, and that smoking cigarettes is now known to cause cancer thanks to new scientific knowledge. Science changes things, and scientists and doctors make new discoveries all the time. Recognizing and treating mental health conditions is no exception. Science debunked your "in the old days" argument.
I'll end with this: The argument that mental health conditions didn't exist back in the old days is not a valid argument. Are you also going to argue that the Earth is flat based on the biblical phrase "at the four corners of the Earth", or that Pluto is still a planet? You wouldn't tell someone with diabetes that diabetes wasn't real because it wasn't recognized in the Middle Ages, would you? If you wouldn't argue about those scientific advances, why is mental health any different? Stop and ask yourself why you view mental health conditions so differently. The answer is simple: stigma and inadequate information. Please, do some research, ask some questions, before you make something that someone struggles with every day seem like nothing.
For more information: If you don't want to just Google questions.
1.
http://nobaproject.com/modules/history-of-mental-illness
Wednesday, March 29, 2017
The Other Side of the Couch
I studied Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder along with other Anxiety Disorders in college as a psychology major, and I even did a whole lot of research on OCD before and after my diagnosis. I read case study after case study on Primarily Obsessional Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, too because there isn't an extensive amount of research on that subtype of OCD as of early 2017. I had all this knowledge in my brain about OCD, Anxiety, along with how they worked and how to treat them. I had even grown up seeing mental health conditions first hand because I had one parent with an anxiety disorder and one parent with Bipolar Disorder.
In other words, I thought I knew enough about Anxiety Disorders and mental health in general to understand them. I thought I had enough information so that I could deal with mental health, so that I would know if I ever started to experience a problem and what to do about it. I thought I knew enough and had studied enough so that I would recognize Anxiety in whatever form I encountered it and I would be able to show it who was the boss of my mind without the aid of medications or a therapist. I thought I would be the one in the therapist's chair if I ever dealt with the mental health field, helping someone on the couch. I thought I knew enough about Anxiety and mental health and treatment so that I would be safe, so that I would never be on the client/patient side of the relationship.
I got served up a heaping helping of truth when I started experiencing severe Pure OCD and Panic Disorder. Living with my mental health condition is nothing (NOTHING!) like what I thought I knew it was during all my studying. My home life, my education, my research, none of that prepared me for dealing with my diagnosis and finding myself on the other side of the couch than I intended. I was just as lost, terrified, and confused as if I had no educational background in psychology, and it was a hard realization for me when knowledge didn't save me from getting so lost in OCD and Panic Disorder. (I often still say to my therapist, "I thought I'd be on the other side of the couch where you are in this scenario." To which she replies, "What do you think is wrong with your side of the couch?")
My point is that no matter what you know about mental health conditions, what you've seen in friends and family, it's nothing like when you find yourself on the client/patient side of the couch. Objectively, I know the symptoms of Anxiety Disorders and other mental health conditions, and I can recognize them when other people exhibit those symptoms. When I'm anxious and in the OCD spiral, every thought that I recognize in someone else as an OCD symptom is not an OCD symptom to me. Every breath that gets stuck in my lungs, every intrusive thought that shoots around my mind like a pinball feels so real and so true and so terrifying that I can't see past the fear and anxiety to recognize that it's all a symptom of my mental health condition. I can't be my own therapist and my own client at the same time.
I read all the time that this is common thinking among people that have never had to deal with a mental health condition. Those people tend to not understand, and they think that people with mental health conditions can recognize their own symptoms because they can objectively recognize them. Then they think the other person could talk their way down from a panic or out of a spiral, because they believe they would be able to do that if they were in their shoes (because mental health conditions are often irrational and people are good at spotting irrational thinking in other people and sometimes in themselves). While we, the people with the mental health conditions, feel like they just don't understand because they've never been there.
Prior to dealing first-hand with my own mental health condition, I thought the same way. I didn't understand how a person with OCD or some other Anxiety Disorder couldn't recognize their own irrational thinking and then take steps to counter that anxiety. It seemed like a simple thing to do, and I didn't understand why it would take 2 years to treat OCD once someone recognized the problem.
Then I found myself on the other side of the couch, going to sessions, crying my eyes out because even though I recognized that my fear of, say, losing control while I was alone and putting my hand on a red-hot stovetop burner on purpose to harm myself, was irrational, I couldn't be sure that it wasn't something I would actually do. I know that was irrational, but I also didn't REALLY know that while it was happening. I couldn't even see that it was just my OCD cranked up to full volume, even though if I could have been objective, I would have realized that.
I quickly understood that I really didn't have any idea about mental health conditions, even though I thought I knew so much. I understood then that personally dealing with a brain that is unwell is not the same as objectively seeing an unwell brain and learning about it. I realized that learning all about something didn't necessarily prepare me to experience it.
I'll end with this: Finding yourself or someone you care about on the client/patient side of the couch is never an easy journey. Everything you think you might have known about mental health conditions and/or treatments ends up being only the tip of a very large, very jagged iceberg. You may be so sure that you understand it all before you hit the client side of the couch, but I can assure you that, unless you are a trained mental health professional with counseling experience, you only have a vague idea. It's a great idea and it's helpful to learn all you can about any mental health condition, but also keep in mind that objectively knowing information about a condition is NEVER the same as experiencing the condition.
In other words, I thought I knew enough about Anxiety Disorders and mental health in general to understand them. I thought I had enough information so that I could deal with mental health, so that I would know if I ever started to experience a problem and what to do about it. I thought I knew enough and had studied enough so that I would recognize Anxiety in whatever form I encountered it and I would be able to show it who was the boss of my mind without the aid of medications or a therapist. I thought I would be the one in the therapist's chair if I ever dealt with the mental health field, helping someone on the couch. I thought I knew enough about Anxiety and mental health and treatment so that I would be safe, so that I would never be on the client/patient side of the relationship.
I got served up a heaping helping of truth when I started experiencing severe Pure OCD and Panic Disorder. Living with my mental health condition is nothing (NOTHING!) like what I thought I knew it was during all my studying. My home life, my education, my research, none of that prepared me for dealing with my diagnosis and finding myself on the other side of the couch than I intended. I was just as lost, terrified, and confused as if I had no educational background in psychology, and it was a hard realization for me when knowledge didn't save me from getting so lost in OCD and Panic Disorder. (I often still say to my therapist, "I thought I'd be on the other side of the couch where you are in this scenario." To which she replies, "What do you think is wrong with your side of the couch?")
My point is that no matter what you know about mental health conditions, what you've seen in friends and family, it's nothing like when you find yourself on the client/patient side of the couch. Objectively, I know the symptoms of Anxiety Disorders and other mental health conditions, and I can recognize them when other people exhibit those symptoms. When I'm anxious and in the OCD spiral, every thought that I recognize in someone else as an OCD symptom is not an OCD symptom to me. Every breath that gets stuck in my lungs, every intrusive thought that shoots around my mind like a pinball feels so real and so true and so terrifying that I can't see past the fear and anxiety to recognize that it's all a symptom of my mental health condition. I can't be my own therapist and my own client at the same time.
I read all the time that this is common thinking among people that have never had to deal with a mental health condition. Those people tend to not understand, and they think that people with mental health conditions can recognize their own symptoms because they can objectively recognize them. Then they think the other person could talk their way down from a panic or out of a spiral, because they believe they would be able to do that if they were in their shoes (because mental health conditions are often irrational and people are good at spotting irrational thinking in other people and sometimes in themselves). While we, the people with the mental health conditions, feel like they just don't understand because they've never been there.
Prior to dealing first-hand with my own mental health condition, I thought the same way. I didn't understand how a person with OCD or some other Anxiety Disorder couldn't recognize their own irrational thinking and then take steps to counter that anxiety. It seemed like a simple thing to do, and I didn't understand why it would take 2 years to treat OCD once someone recognized the problem.
Then I found myself on the other side of the couch, going to sessions, crying my eyes out because even though I recognized that my fear of, say, losing control while I was alone and putting my hand on a red-hot stovetop burner on purpose to harm myself, was irrational, I couldn't be sure that it wasn't something I would actually do. I know that was irrational, but I also didn't REALLY know that while it was happening. I couldn't even see that it was just my OCD cranked up to full volume, even though if I could have been objective, I would have realized that.
I quickly understood that I really didn't have any idea about mental health conditions, even though I thought I knew so much. I understood then that personally dealing with a brain that is unwell is not the same as objectively seeing an unwell brain and learning about it. I realized that learning all about something didn't necessarily prepare me to experience it.
I'll end with this: Finding yourself or someone you care about on the client/patient side of the couch is never an easy journey. Everything you think you might have known about mental health conditions and/or treatments ends up being only the tip of a very large, very jagged iceberg. You may be so sure that you understand it all before you hit the client side of the couch, but I can assure you that, unless you are a trained mental health professional with counseling experience, you only have a vague idea. It's a great idea and it's helpful to learn all you can about any mental health condition, but also keep in mind that objectively knowing information about a condition is NEVER the same as experiencing the condition.
Wednesday, March 8, 2017
Tornado of Change
As a Highly Sensitive Person as well as a person that deals with an anxiety disorder, I don't do change very well. I avoid change, actually. I'm cautious. I love routine. I love control. I love planning things out as far as I can possibly imagine for my life. In fact, I plan every detail of my life so much so that I have Outfit Plan A and Outfit Plan B (in case of rain, you know). I check the weather the night before while I'm picking out my clothes, and then I check the weather again before I get ready to leave my house, just to make sure I'm dressed accordingly.
Change is super stressful and terrifying to me, even if the changes are positive, or even if I elected to make the changes on my own. The winds of change are really more like a tornado. Going to college was as shocking to me as if I had moved to a foreign country that I knew nothing about on a dare. Happening upon new people in my life that I could make friends with or (maybe) even date feels like jumping out of a plane with an untested parachute until I adjust to those new people. Change, even positive change, fills me with a sense of dread and anxiety. Life's curve balls and surprises (unless it's a surprise like someone bringing me food when I wasn't expecting food), feel like I'm staring down a rabid dog with my back pressed against a wall, armed with a stun gun I have no idea how to use.
Before I can be okay with any changes that might happen, I have to be able to answer some questions. Have I thought this through thoroughly? Do I have my plan broken down in small enough steps? What other changes might also happen because of this one change? What do I do if I don't like this change after I make it, but I can't undo it? Could the stress from this change send me into an OCD spiral? Am I in a place that I can cope and recover quickly if a spiral happens? What if this doesn't work out like I have it figured out in my plan? You see where I'm going with this...
Changes bring uncertainty, and it's when I can't see all the way through the fog of uncertainty to the end (which is always) that change fills me with anxiety and dread. It's impossible to answer all those questions unless I invented a time machine that enabled me to take a quick trip through my life and into my future to check on myself.
I talk regularly with my therapist about the trouble I have with changes and surprises in life. She always tells me the same thing. She tells me to stop going into the future. She tells me to focus on the right now, the day right in front of me and how I deal with that. I'm only giving myself anxiety when I worry about future changes that haven't and may not even happen. She tells me just to live in today, and then to live in tomorrow when I wake up in tomorrow.
I don't have a time machine or a crystal ball (and let's face it I would be too terrified of changing my future by taking a peek to use them if I did have either of those things). Worrying about the things that I'm afraid might happen or that I'm afraid I can't deal with if they happen in my life sounds like I'm just punishing myself. I wouldn't sit and worry if I'm going to trip and fall down a flight of stairs tomorrow if I wasn't even sure I was going to be anywhere near stairs.
I'm working on shifting my focus. I'll try my hardest to only deal with the day stretched out in front of me. For somebody like me (an anxious INFJ personality type) that probably won't be easy, but I can work on it. My new mantra: I'll deal with tomorrow when I get there (unless I'm out of tea, then I might not deal with tomorrow at all).
I'll end with this: Changes are scary, even if we picked the changes we made. Life hardly ever goes according to the plans in our heads. Life is full of changes and surprises, and it's okay that we can't see how all those are going to turn out right now. Just breathe, take a step back, and deal with the day you're living in. We can deal with tomorrow when it gets here. Just because we can't see everything that's coming doesn't automatically mean that disaster is inevitably waiting on the horizon.
Change is super stressful and terrifying to me, even if the changes are positive, or even if I elected to make the changes on my own. The winds of change are really more like a tornado. Going to college was as shocking to me as if I had moved to a foreign country that I knew nothing about on a dare. Happening upon new people in my life that I could make friends with or (maybe) even date feels like jumping out of a plane with an untested parachute until I adjust to those new people. Change, even positive change, fills me with a sense of dread and anxiety. Life's curve balls and surprises (unless it's a surprise like someone bringing me food when I wasn't expecting food), feel like I'm staring down a rabid dog with my back pressed against a wall, armed with a stun gun I have no idea how to use.
Before I can be okay with any changes that might happen, I have to be able to answer some questions. Have I thought this through thoroughly? Do I have my plan broken down in small enough steps? What other changes might also happen because of this one change? What do I do if I don't like this change after I make it, but I can't undo it? Could the stress from this change send me into an OCD spiral? Am I in a place that I can cope and recover quickly if a spiral happens? What if this doesn't work out like I have it figured out in my plan? You see where I'm going with this...
Changes bring uncertainty, and it's when I can't see all the way through the fog of uncertainty to the end (which is always) that change fills me with anxiety and dread. It's impossible to answer all those questions unless I invented a time machine that enabled me to take a quick trip through my life and into my future to check on myself.
I talk regularly with my therapist about the trouble I have with changes and surprises in life. She always tells me the same thing. She tells me to stop going into the future. She tells me to focus on the right now, the day right in front of me and how I deal with that. I'm only giving myself anxiety when I worry about future changes that haven't and may not even happen. She tells me just to live in today, and then to live in tomorrow when I wake up in tomorrow.
I don't have a time machine or a crystal ball (and let's face it I would be too terrified of changing my future by taking a peek to use them if I did have either of those things). Worrying about the things that I'm afraid might happen or that I'm afraid I can't deal with if they happen in my life sounds like I'm just punishing myself. I wouldn't sit and worry if I'm going to trip and fall down a flight of stairs tomorrow if I wasn't even sure I was going to be anywhere near stairs.
I'm working on shifting my focus. I'll try my hardest to only deal with the day stretched out in front of me. For somebody like me (an anxious INFJ personality type) that probably won't be easy, but I can work on it. My new mantra: I'll deal with tomorrow when I get there (unless I'm out of tea, then I might not deal with tomorrow at all).
I'll end with this: Changes are scary, even if we picked the changes we made. Life hardly ever goes according to the plans in our heads. Life is full of changes and surprises, and it's okay that we can't see how all those are going to turn out right now. Just breathe, take a step back, and deal with the day you're living in. We can deal with tomorrow when it gets here. Just because we can't see everything that's coming doesn't automatically mean that disaster is inevitably waiting on the horizon.
Wednesday, February 22, 2017
I Saw it in a Movie
I was recently discussing the new film Split with someone. (Split is an M. Night Shyamalan movie that just came out, and the main character is a man with Dissociative Identity Disorder, AKA Multiple Personality Disorder that kidnaps some young ladies. They have to try to escape the "bad guy" personality before he murders them. Apparently, one of his personalities doesn't even appear to be human anymore.) I mentioned that I didn't like it when movies like that made the villain a person with a mental health condition. (I haven't seen this movie for that reason, and also because I don't watch scary movies. I did do some research on it.) Right after the trailer for the movie came on TV, the person says in a matter of fact tone, "Well, it is proven that almost all serial killers have Multiple-Personality Disorder."
Just because we saw that movie trailer, that person was sure enough in their incorrect assumption to remark that serial killers had Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) because the person saw that the character had a bad guy alter/personality. That thinking right there is why I don't like it when horror movies, or any movies, really, make up a person with a mental health condition as a villain. (I'm not talking about movies that are based on true stories of someone with a mental health condition, just the made up, horror, thriller, or suspense movies with the main purpose of creeping out the audience.) Movies like that tend to get things wrong, and by making a person with a mental health condition the villain, such movies only add to the already stifling mental health stigma. Just so we're clear, people with DID are not likely to have a "psychopath"/ "sociopath"/murderer personality just because their personality has fragmented, possibly as a result of some kind of trauma.
I'm not sure what made that person arrive at that conclusion, but I don't doubt that the movie at least cemented or confirmed their idea. I will admit that I got irritated that this new movie may be giving people a negative idea of people with DID. I may have also gotten a little bothered by the fact that, just because they saw a movie about something, they somehow had arrived at the idea that it must be accurate to be in a movie. I attempted to educate them a tiny bit instead, in the hope that they wouldn't be going about life thinking that all people with DID could be serial killers or criminals or bad people.
I informed them that their statement wasn't, in fact, proven. I did point out that according to my psychology teachings and my therapist, that the people most likely to blatantly disregard rules and social mores, to view people as objects instead of human beings, and to lack a sense of empathy and/or guilt were those with Anti-Social Personality Disorder, which is nothing like DID. (Example: Think of someone who repeatedly steals just because they want something, and then that person doesn't feel any guilt or remorse for breaking the law. A serial killer with EXTREME Anti-Social Personality Disorder that comes to mind here is Charles Manson.) I am in no way saying that everyone with Anti-Social Personality Disorder is a serial killer like Charles Manson, I'm just stating that, generally, people with Anti-Social Personality Disorder tend to be the people that don't care if they break rules or sometimes laws to do/get whatever they want. People living with Dissociative Identity Disorder are not the same as people living with Anti-Social Personality Disorder, and living with either doesn't absolutely mean that a person is going to be violent.
I couldn't help but to think about people that have Dissociative Identity Disorder in real life after this movie. Imagine how they may have felt, knowing some murderous villain in a scary movie is supposed to have the very same condition that they live with everyday. (I wouldn't want someone to make a movie in which a person murders his whole family or somebody else because he has OCD, even though that idea would be EXTREMELY UNLIKELY and EXTREMELY FAR-FETCHED.)
Has this movie made people with Dissociated Identity Disorder feel bad or worse about their mental health condition? Are they now going to feel more concerned than before that people are going to treat them differently or even avoid them because of how DID was depicted in a movie? Is that movie going to make them feel ashamed of their condition because it blew it up and distorted it so much that the person was literally shown as a monster? Are people going to call them too sensitive for being bothered by the fact that their mental health condition was used in a movie to frighten people? How many times are people with DID going to have to have "the talk" with people when they say something like, "Oh, like in Split?"
These things could happen as a result of movies like Split, because, even though their sole purpose is just to creep out a theater full of people, movies like this also further the stigma surrounding mental health conditions (even when they make something up, like a monster-like alter/personality). The movie still used a very real mental health condition to create a monster that people should be scared of. The movie blew a very real mental health condition up into something fictitious, that isn't a real thing anymore, like it was okay to take real suffering and make something silly from it for entertainment.
I'll end with this: I know movies and shows like this are everywhere, and I know these movies or shows don't have the intention of adding to the stigma surrounding mental health. I know furthering the stigma is sort of an accidental by-product of the popularity of the movies or shows, but that still is no excuse for the people the mental health stigma harms. We should all think critically of the things the media shows us about mental illness instead of just taking everything in without question. If you want to know something about a mental health condition, don't rely on pop culture. Do some research through the National Institute of Mental Health or ask someone in the mental health field to help you. If you think people with mental health conditions are too sensitive to the things like movies such as Split, ask yourself, if this movie made a spectacle of something like cancer, AIDS, or something like autism or cerebral palsy, would I be just as okay with that as I was with a movie making a spectacle of a real mental health condition?
Just because we saw that movie trailer, that person was sure enough in their incorrect assumption to remark that serial killers had Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) because the person saw that the character had a bad guy alter/personality. That thinking right there is why I don't like it when horror movies, or any movies, really, make up a person with a mental health condition as a villain. (I'm not talking about movies that are based on true stories of someone with a mental health condition, just the made up, horror, thriller, or suspense movies with the main purpose of creeping out the audience.) Movies like that tend to get things wrong, and by making a person with a mental health condition the villain, such movies only add to the already stifling mental health stigma. Just so we're clear, people with DID are not likely to have a "psychopath"/ "sociopath"/murderer personality just because their personality has fragmented, possibly as a result of some kind of trauma.
I'm not sure what made that person arrive at that conclusion, but I don't doubt that the movie at least cemented or confirmed their idea. I will admit that I got irritated that this new movie may be giving people a negative idea of people with DID. I may have also gotten a little bothered by the fact that, just because they saw a movie about something, they somehow had arrived at the idea that it must be accurate to be in a movie. I attempted to educate them a tiny bit instead, in the hope that they wouldn't be going about life thinking that all people with DID could be serial killers or criminals or bad people.
I informed them that their statement wasn't, in fact, proven. I did point out that according to my psychology teachings and my therapist, that the people most likely to blatantly disregard rules and social mores, to view people as objects instead of human beings, and to lack a sense of empathy and/or guilt were those with Anti-Social Personality Disorder, which is nothing like DID. (Example: Think of someone who repeatedly steals just because they want something, and then that person doesn't feel any guilt or remorse for breaking the law. A serial killer with EXTREME Anti-Social Personality Disorder that comes to mind here is Charles Manson.) I am in no way saying that everyone with Anti-Social Personality Disorder is a serial killer like Charles Manson, I'm just stating that, generally, people with Anti-Social Personality Disorder tend to be the people that don't care if they break rules or sometimes laws to do/get whatever they want. People living with Dissociative Identity Disorder are not the same as people living with Anti-Social Personality Disorder, and living with either doesn't absolutely mean that a person is going to be violent.
I couldn't help but to think about people that have Dissociative Identity Disorder in real life after this movie. Imagine how they may have felt, knowing some murderous villain in a scary movie is supposed to have the very same condition that they live with everyday. (I wouldn't want someone to make a movie in which a person murders his whole family or somebody else because he has OCD, even though that idea would be EXTREMELY UNLIKELY and EXTREMELY FAR-FETCHED.)
Has this movie made people with Dissociated Identity Disorder feel bad or worse about their mental health condition? Are they now going to feel more concerned than before that people are going to treat them differently or even avoid them because of how DID was depicted in a movie? Is that movie going to make them feel ashamed of their condition because it blew it up and distorted it so much that the person was literally shown as a monster? Are people going to call them too sensitive for being bothered by the fact that their mental health condition was used in a movie to frighten people? How many times are people with DID going to have to have "the talk" with people when they say something like, "Oh, like in Split?"
These things could happen as a result of movies like Split, because, even though their sole purpose is just to creep out a theater full of people, movies like this also further the stigma surrounding mental health conditions (even when they make something up, like a monster-like alter/personality). The movie still used a very real mental health condition to create a monster that people should be scared of. The movie blew a very real mental health condition up into something fictitious, that isn't a real thing anymore, like it was okay to take real suffering and make something silly from it for entertainment.
I'll end with this: I know movies and shows like this are everywhere, and I know these movies or shows don't have the intention of adding to the stigma surrounding mental health. I know furthering the stigma is sort of an accidental by-product of the popularity of the movies or shows, but that still is no excuse for the people the mental health stigma harms. We should all think critically of the things the media shows us about mental illness instead of just taking everything in without question. If you want to know something about a mental health condition, don't rely on pop culture. Do some research through the National Institute of Mental Health or ask someone in the mental health field to help you. If you think people with mental health conditions are too sensitive to the things like movies such as Split, ask yourself, if this movie made a spectacle of something like cancer, AIDS, or something like autism or cerebral palsy, would I be just as okay with that as I was with a movie making a spectacle of a real mental health condition?
Wednesday, February 8, 2017
Keeping Up
While I was in college, after I chose a career path for myself, I gave myself a set of goals and a timetable by which to accomplish those goals. Within three years after my college graduation, I wanted to have a writing career off the ground, a photography business on the side, and maybe a boyfriend. That was the timeline in which I knew most of my peers would be finishing up graduate school and finding cool jobs. I even finished my first novel just a year after graduation.
Then something I hadn't carved out time for in my schedule of life events occurred, and my original timetable was chewed up and spit back out. I got hit fast and hard with a debilitating amount of anxiety like I had never experienced before. With my anxiety disorder diagnosis, my life was derailed. Every goal I had for myself took a backseat to my mental health, and new mental health goals were scrawled on the remaining pieces scrap paper, to like to get my anxiety under control so that I wouldn't cry every day when my mom had to leave me to go to work.
During that time, I found myself unable to work on a new book. I couldn't concentrate, and when I could, none of the words that came felt like the right words, so I would delete and start again. I couldn't even remember to contact literary agents about representation for my first book. It seemed like the only thing I was capable of was trying to make it through each day and looking for something, anything that might help me get my brain back to a healthy place again. My career life and my daydreams of an actual love life halted as working through OCD became a primary goal.
Suddenly, I realized that life had continued to move on while I felt like I was frozen in place. My peers finished graduate school and started interesting and fulfilling careers while I hadn't wracked up any publishing credits or started a successful photography business. There I was, suddenly closer to 30 than to 20, with nothing objectively successful accomplished, terrified I would never be able to write another word after my first book, all because of an anxiety disorder that got out of control.
I felt like I was behind in life, like I had fallen drastically behind my peers. I was no longer in the same place in life as all my friends. I had no fancy career in the works like they did. I had no serious relationship like most of them did. I had no graduate degree like some of them did. I wondered if I failed at life. I wondered if I had made the wrong choices and wasted valuable time that I could have been accomplishing great things, like everyone else I had graduated college with. I didn't think I could ever catch up and accomplish the things I wanted at the rate I had been going for the past couple of years.
Here's the thing that I realized after this mini-crisis about keeping up with my peers: Priorities and goals change as circumstances change. My circumstances were suddenly vastly different than the circumstances of my peers. That meant my priorities and my goals changed to reflect that. I suddenly found myself on a different timetable than the people I had graduated college with. Sure, I wasn't accomplishing the same things as my peers, but I was accomplishing things on the detour I had taken, like talking myself down from a panic attack, being able to be alone again. Starting this blog also became a new priority of mine instead of only writing fiction because dealing with the mental health stigma was a new priority of mine, and helping people feel like they weren't alone on their mental health journey was a new goal.
I realized that I wasn't behind in life or failing at life. I had just reorganized my priorities. My mental health was number one on the list, writing was number two, getting published was number three, and my love life came in somewhere near the bottom. Each priority seemed like a stepping stone of goals to the next priority. Plus, I could accomplish more things if I had a healthy brain to better deal with the stress of trying to accomplish something.
I realized that I didn't need to compare myself to my peers. I don't need my accomplishments to match anyone else's accomplishments. I have different circumstances, priorities, and goals than Suzie down the street, so why would I look at her with her job and her life and think I needed to have the same accomplishments that she has? That would be silly. It's okay if your best friend wants to go to medical school while you want to get a BA in Photography and travel the world for a year. You wouldn't compare your life to theirs, and then feel bad because they achieved a medical honor that came with a plaque while you won a photography competition that came with a ribbon, right?
My life is my own to stroll and stumble through at whatever pace I choose. Sure, I had to take a detour that I didn't like, but I still managed to accomplish different things while I was on that mental health detour. I even realized some new goals, and I accomplished them in a way that I never expected. I'm not behind just because strangers can't objectively see the most recent thing I've accomplished. I'm also not failing at life simply because I found myself on a different timetable than I imagined for myself. There is no rule written in stone that tells me what I should have accomplished by the time I'm 30.
I'll end with this: You are under no obligation to keep up with your peers. If you feel like your mental health condition is keeping you from accomplishing things, just look for your small victories. Did you manage to get out of bed and eat something during a rough patch with depression? Did you manage to go out with friends even though you were worried your anxiety would ruin an outing? Then you've accomplished something, and that small something is one tiny stepping stone to accomplishing other things. You aren't failing at life if a mental health condition derailed your plans for your life for a little while. There is no rule that says you have to accomplish certain things by a certain age. Just move forward one stepping stone at a time, and feel proud of each step.
Then something I hadn't carved out time for in my schedule of life events occurred, and my original timetable was chewed up and spit back out. I got hit fast and hard with a debilitating amount of anxiety like I had never experienced before. With my anxiety disorder diagnosis, my life was derailed. Every goal I had for myself took a backseat to my mental health, and new mental health goals were scrawled on the remaining pieces scrap paper, to like to get my anxiety under control so that I wouldn't cry every day when my mom had to leave me to go to work.
During that time, I found myself unable to work on a new book. I couldn't concentrate, and when I could, none of the words that came felt like the right words, so I would delete and start again. I couldn't even remember to contact literary agents about representation for my first book. It seemed like the only thing I was capable of was trying to make it through each day and looking for something, anything that might help me get my brain back to a healthy place again. My career life and my daydreams of an actual love life halted as working through OCD became a primary goal.
Suddenly, I realized that life had continued to move on while I felt like I was frozen in place. My peers finished graduate school and started interesting and fulfilling careers while I hadn't wracked up any publishing credits or started a successful photography business. There I was, suddenly closer to 30 than to 20, with nothing objectively successful accomplished, terrified I would never be able to write another word after my first book, all because of an anxiety disorder that got out of control.
I felt like I was behind in life, like I had fallen drastically behind my peers. I was no longer in the same place in life as all my friends. I had no fancy career in the works like they did. I had no serious relationship like most of them did. I had no graduate degree like some of them did. I wondered if I failed at life. I wondered if I had made the wrong choices and wasted valuable time that I could have been accomplishing great things, like everyone else I had graduated college with. I didn't think I could ever catch up and accomplish the things I wanted at the rate I had been going for the past couple of years.
Here's the thing that I realized after this mini-crisis about keeping up with my peers: Priorities and goals change as circumstances change. My circumstances were suddenly vastly different than the circumstances of my peers. That meant my priorities and my goals changed to reflect that. I suddenly found myself on a different timetable than the people I had graduated college with. Sure, I wasn't accomplishing the same things as my peers, but I was accomplishing things on the detour I had taken, like talking myself down from a panic attack, being able to be alone again. Starting this blog also became a new priority of mine instead of only writing fiction because dealing with the mental health stigma was a new priority of mine, and helping people feel like they weren't alone on their mental health journey was a new goal.
I realized that I wasn't behind in life or failing at life. I had just reorganized my priorities. My mental health was number one on the list, writing was number two, getting published was number three, and my love life came in somewhere near the bottom. Each priority seemed like a stepping stone of goals to the next priority. Plus, I could accomplish more things if I had a healthy brain to better deal with the stress of trying to accomplish something.
I realized that I didn't need to compare myself to my peers. I don't need my accomplishments to match anyone else's accomplishments. I have different circumstances, priorities, and goals than Suzie down the street, so why would I look at her with her job and her life and think I needed to have the same accomplishments that she has? That would be silly. It's okay if your best friend wants to go to medical school while you want to get a BA in Photography and travel the world for a year. You wouldn't compare your life to theirs, and then feel bad because they achieved a medical honor that came with a plaque while you won a photography competition that came with a ribbon, right?
My life is my own to stroll and stumble through at whatever pace I choose. Sure, I had to take a detour that I didn't like, but I still managed to accomplish different things while I was on that mental health detour. I even realized some new goals, and I accomplished them in a way that I never expected. I'm not behind just because strangers can't objectively see the most recent thing I've accomplished. I'm also not failing at life simply because I found myself on a different timetable than I imagined for myself. There is no rule written in stone that tells me what I should have accomplished by the time I'm 30.
I'll end with this: You are under no obligation to keep up with your peers. If you feel like your mental health condition is keeping you from accomplishing things, just look for your small victories. Did you manage to get out of bed and eat something during a rough patch with depression? Did you manage to go out with friends even though you were worried your anxiety would ruin an outing? Then you've accomplished something, and that small something is one tiny stepping stone to accomplishing other things. You aren't failing at life if a mental health condition derailed your plans for your life for a little while. There is no rule that says you have to accomplish certain things by a certain age. Just move forward one stepping stone at a time, and feel proud of each step.
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