I've always been a worrier. As far back as I can remember into my childhood, I always had something that could worry me to the point of tears. When my mom cleaned the carpets with one of those foam cleaners, I'd worry if I stepped in a damp spot that the chemicals in the cleaner would get absorbed into my body through my feet and I'd die. (I was around age 5.) Then once I started school, I worried that as soon as my mom dropped me off, something terrible would happen to her (like that she might die in a car crash) until I got distracted with classwork. I didn't like riding the rides at the fair because I worried that they weren't safe. In high school, I worried that we'd have a school shooting or a bomb threat. (We had one bomb threat my entire four years, and I didn't even go to school that day.) In college, every time I crossed the street, I worried about getting hit by a car. Today, I worry about too many things to list.
All through the years, I've always been worried about one thing or another. One thing I never worried about, though, was whether or not my worries were rational or irrational. I didn't think worrying about things made me a "crazy" person. I thought worrying about things made me cautious, and that it meant I had self-preservation instincts. Worry was always "normal" to me.
Then I got diagnosed with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. I was relieved to have a name for thing that made me feel like a "crazy" person. However, mixed in with that relief, was more worry...about my worries. One of the symptoms of OCD is irrational worry, fear, and anxiety. Irrational...that word stuck.
I started to worry about how rational or irrational I was. Every time I got worried about something I got worried that my original worry was irrational, which meant it was just another way that OCD was trying to maintain control of my life. I started to pathologize every little thing and worry that the OCD was trying to take over again. I know that sometimes, my OCD brain will pick out a strange thing to make me feel worried about (Example: what if some place is haunted, and because I already have a funky mind, what if some malicious spirits attaches to me...totally irrational. Demonic supernatural possession was one of my first OCD obsessions, in case I hadn't mentioned that before.)
I had to come up with a way to separate my worries into rational worries and my anxious thoughts. So, now when I find myself worrying about something to the point of anxiety, I have to ask myself some questions. Number 1: Is this related to any of my obsessions? If I answer yes, I toss the worry in the OCD pile. If I answer no, I ask myself question number 2. Question Number 2: If I had this thought at a no-anxiety time, would it give me anxiety or could I shrug it off? If I could shrug it off at a no-anxiety time, that means (for me) that the worry is tied to my anxiety disorder. If it would still cause me anxiety at a time when I wasn't feeling any anxiety, then (for me) it means the worry is a rational worry.
Example: I recently thought of switching from whole milk to soy milk, and so I got a carton of soy milk to try. (Trying some new foods/drinks/medications that I have never tried before makes me anxious because I'm afraid I'll have an adverse reaction to a new thing and possibly die.) After I bought it, I was still researching soy milk and health-related things. I discovered that there is some controversy surrounding soy milk and it's effects on hormones in women. So, I was afraid to drink the soy milk because I was afraid of the health consequences. I had already drank some, and so I was anxious about it. Question 1: Was this related to any of my obsessions? The fear that I was going to die from the soy milk was, so I tossed that away. Question 2: If I saw this soy milk-hormone-trouble related stuff on a day when I had no anxiety, would I still be worried that I had consumed soy milk? The answer: Yes, I would still be worried, and therefore I would not continue to drink the soy milk even if the data was inconclusive (so far) because more research is needed. Conclusion: being worried about the health effects of soy milk is rational for me, and it's okay if I don't want to drink any more. It's also okay if I don't want my mom to drink it, too. It has nothing to do with my OCD.
I'll end with this: It's so easy, when you get diagnosed with a mental health condition, to pathologize behavior, and it can take work to figure out the best technique to use to determine if a behavior is a "normal" behavior or a pathological behavior. The best thing that works for me in my life with OCD is to ask two simple questions. Question 1: Is this worry related to any of my obsessions? If the answer is no proceed to question 2. Question 2: If I was having a no-anxiety day, would this worry be something I could shrug off without any anxiety? That might not work for everyone, but it is a good way to learn to flag anxious thoughts versus rational worries. Just remember, because you've been diagnosed with a mental health condition doesn't mean that every behavior is caused by that mental health condition.
Wednesday, August 16, 2017
Wednesday, August 2, 2017
Self-Fulfilling Prophecy
I worry about my anxiety a lot, particularly during the months of June and July. It seems like I catch myself monitoring my anxiety more often during those warm months. I catch myself saying first thing in the morning, "I hope my anxiety isn't too high today." If we go out somewhere, I catch myself thinking, "I hope it isn't too loud or crowded so my anxiety doesn't get too high." If I feel my anxiety start to rise I'll think, "Oh no! I hope this doesn't get out of hand."
Checking in with yourself about your mental health is a good thing. Worrying about your mental health condition, however, is not a good thing. Worrying about my anxiety actually has a negative effect on my well-being. By worrying about it, I'm creating a space for it to creep in and take over. By worrying about it, I'm constantly thinking about it and guarding against it, and that makes me hyper-aware of any symptoms of anxiety that might show up. That's pretty much just asking for the anxiety to show up since I'm thinking about it so much and being wary of it at the same time.
My therapist explained it this way: She watched a TED talk on stress and the body. There were two groups of people involved in a study (longitudinal study is my guess). One group thought that stress didn't negatively impact the body. The second group thought stress negatively impacted the body. After time passed, the group that didn't think about stress hurting their body were still mostly fine. The people that worried about the impact of stress on their body had more health problems. She explained that the same idea applied to worrying about anxiety as well. The more you worry about something like anxiety, the more likely it is to happen.
Basically, just like the people that worry about the effect of stress on their body, by worrying about my anxiety, I created my own self-fulfilling prophecy. By worrying about my anxiety, I invited it in for a visit because I kept it on my mind. The same thing happens with panic attacks. Worrying about and fearing a panic attack often causes one to happen.
The simple solution would be not to worry about the anxiety and panic attacks, but that is more difficult than it sounds. It takes quite a bit of effort to move your mind away from something scary. I'm sure we were all confronted with something scary, like a medical test, that we just couldn't stop thinking and worrying about. It's not something that you can just stop thinking about because it's always there, floating around in your mind somewhere.
At the first sign of worrying too much about my anxiety, I start changing the way I think about the things. I'm always worried that I'll be as anxious as I was when I was forced into treatment, and I'm always worried that I'll let my anxiety ruin my birthday. I always start to worry about that in June. So, now, I try to talk to myself differently about my anxiety. Instead of the negative, worrying statements, I say, "You know you're anxiety might be higher right now, but that's fine. You're in a different place than you were a couple of years ago, and you have no reason to think the anxiety is going to spiral again. You are doing better, and you can continue to do better."
I also try to change the pictures I have in my mind. Instead of picturing myself so anxious that I cry and have a hard time functioning, I picture myself as content and busy with cleaning and writing and playing with my cat. I don't picture the anxiety as part of my day. I wake up in the morning, and instead of worrying about my anxiety immediately, I think about the things I planned to do that day. I picture myself doing them instead of being frozen in anxiety. In other words, I try to create a self-fulfilling prophecy of fun productivity instead of anxiety. I find that doing this one thing helps me to manage my anxiety throughout the day. (However, this doesn't make the anxiety go away, because some days are just anxious days no matter what you're thinking and planning, but this is a management tool for the days when I'm more in control.)
I'll end with this: Sometimes, we create the way we feel by the way we think. Worrying about anxiety and panic symptoms will likely bring on the symptoms, just like worrying about stress hurting your body leads to stress hurting your body. Picturing a good day, or at least a busy day without picturing the anxiety, doesn't leave as much room for an anxiety invasion, which (at least for me) makes the anxiety more manageable.
Checking in with yourself about your mental health is a good thing. Worrying about your mental health condition, however, is not a good thing. Worrying about my anxiety actually has a negative effect on my well-being. By worrying about it, I'm creating a space for it to creep in and take over. By worrying about it, I'm constantly thinking about it and guarding against it, and that makes me hyper-aware of any symptoms of anxiety that might show up. That's pretty much just asking for the anxiety to show up since I'm thinking about it so much and being wary of it at the same time.
My therapist explained it this way: She watched a TED talk on stress and the body. There were two groups of people involved in a study (longitudinal study is my guess). One group thought that stress didn't negatively impact the body. The second group thought stress negatively impacted the body. After time passed, the group that didn't think about stress hurting their body were still mostly fine. The people that worried about the impact of stress on their body had more health problems. She explained that the same idea applied to worrying about anxiety as well. The more you worry about something like anxiety, the more likely it is to happen.
Basically, just like the people that worry about the effect of stress on their body, by worrying about my anxiety, I created my own self-fulfilling prophecy. By worrying about my anxiety, I invited it in for a visit because I kept it on my mind. The same thing happens with panic attacks. Worrying about and fearing a panic attack often causes one to happen.
The simple solution would be not to worry about the anxiety and panic attacks, but that is more difficult than it sounds. It takes quite a bit of effort to move your mind away from something scary. I'm sure we were all confronted with something scary, like a medical test, that we just couldn't stop thinking and worrying about. It's not something that you can just stop thinking about because it's always there, floating around in your mind somewhere.
At the first sign of worrying too much about my anxiety, I start changing the way I think about the things. I'm always worried that I'll be as anxious as I was when I was forced into treatment, and I'm always worried that I'll let my anxiety ruin my birthday. I always start to worry about that in June. So, now, I try to talk to myself differently about my anxiety. Instead of the negative, worrying statements, I say, "You know you're anxiety might be higher right now, but that's fine. You're in a different place than you were a couple of years ago, and you have no reason to think the anxiety is going to spiral again. You are doing better, and you can continue to do better."
I also try to change the pictures I have in my mind. Instead of picturing myself so anxious that I cry and have a hard time functioning, I picture myself as content and busy with cleaning and writing and playing with my cat. I don't picture the anxiety as part of my day. I wake up in the morning, and instead of worrying about my anxiety immediately, I think about the things I planned to do that day. I picture myself doing them instead of being frozen in anxiety. In other words, I try to create a self-fulfilling prophecy of fun productivity instead of anxiety. I find that doing this one thing helps me to manage my anxiety throughout the day. (However, this doesn't make the anxiety go away, because some days are just anxious days no matter what you're thinking and planning, but this is a management tool for the days when I'm more in control.)
I'll end with this: Sometimes, we create the way we feel by the way we think. Worrying about anxiety and panic symptoms will likely bring on the symptoms, just like worrying about stress hurting your body leads to stress hurting your body. Picturing a good day, or at least a busy day without picturing the anxiety, doesn't leave as much room for an anxiety invasion, which (at least for me) makes the anxiety more manageable.
Wednesday, July 19, 2017
Everything is (Not) Fine
I always tell my therapist that living with anxiety is like living with a toddler inside my head. Anxiety behaves like a toddler. It screams and yells and says mean things, and doesn't listen when you try to be logical. If you can hang on and not give into the anxiety long enough on a good day, it gives up. Other days, when the anxiety is having a particularly persistent day, you may end up lying in the floor, crying while the anxiety continues to scream.
As a result of thinking of the anxiety as a misbehaving toddler, as my anxiety levels rise, I find myself saying a lot, "No, no, it's okay. You're fine. Everything is fine." I tell myself that everything is fine, and then I try to ignore my anxiety, much like a parent might ignore bad behavior until the misbehaving kid moves on to something else. I just pretend everything is fine, and I don't acknowledge the anxiety until the anxiety drops off, which may take anywhere from a few minutes to a few days.
My therapist pointed out that sometimes, when I don't recognize and acknowledge the anxiety that I'm feeling that I could be just feeding the anxiety. That sounds weird, right? Well, she explained that by pretending I was fine while my brain was going haywire with thoughts and my body was shoved into overdrive with anxiety's physical sensations, while I'm sitting there just telling myself that I'm fine, I may be just adding to the anxiety.
How am I adding to my anxiety by pretending I'm fine? Because anxiety is a feeling that I experience, and all of my feelings need to be acknowledged and recognized whether I want to feel them or not. Not acknowledging it and recognizing it sort of means it stresses me more because on top of the anxiety I'm feeling, I have added the pressure to not be anxious, which just makes me feel the anxiety and think about it more. Basically, I'm sending myself the message that it's not okay experience anxiety. Also, the longer the anxiety goes the more gruesome, more frequent, and more terrifying my OCD intrusive thoughts become.
My therapist suggested that, when I experience the anxiety, I should acknowledge the feelings, like the racing heart and chest pain and sweaty palms and tingling hands and feet. Then I should recognize that I didn't do anything wrong that made them happen. Anxiety just happens, much like a sudden headache or muscle cramp. Then I just have to tell myself that feeling anxiety isn't necessarily bad because my body is just functioning the way it's supposed to function, just in overdrive.
I had never thought of anxiety as a thing that wasn't a bad thing until she said that. Anxiety is just the body functioning properly, but it's in overdrive. It's not bad that that happens sometimes. So, it's not a bad thing to acknowledge when it happens instead of pretending that it isn't happening. I mean, toddlers have bad days, and when parents admit that their toddler is having a bad day, it's probably easier to deal with than when they try to pretend everything is fine and they so totally aren't frustrated with the situation. (I also have to admit that realizing anxiety is just my body functioning normally, but in overdrive, might make me less terrified that my anxiety will kill me while I'm home alone.)
I'll end with this: It's okay to admit to yourself that you aren't totally fine. It's okay to admit that your anxiety is having a terrible two's kind of day. Admitting that to yourself is actually a way to get a tiny bit of distance between yourself and your body in overdrive so you can do what you need to do manage it and get to a better place. It's also a kindness to yourself to admit that you're not fine in the moment so you can give yourself an extra bit of compassion and self care instead of adding the pressure to JUST BE FINE ALREADY.
As a result of thinking of the anxiety as a misbehaving toddler, as my anxiety levels rise, I find myself saying a lot, "No, no, it's okay. You're fine. Everything is fine." I tell myself that everything is fine, and then I try to ignore my anxiety, much like a parent might ignore bad behavior until the misbehaving kid moves on to something else. I just pretend everything is fine, and I don't acknowledge the anxiety until the anxiety drops off, which may take anywhere from a few minutes to a few days.
My therapist pointed out that sometimes, when I don't recognize and acknowledge the anxiety that I'm feeling that I could be just feeding the anxiety. That sounds weird, right? Well, she explained that by pretending I was fine while my brain was going haywire with thoughts and my body was shoved into overdrive with anxiety's physical sensations, while I'm sitting there just telling myself that I'm fine, I may be just adding to the anxiety.
How am I adding to my anxiety by pretending I'm fine? Because anxiety is a feeling that I experience, and all of my feelings need to be acknowledged and recognized whether I want to feel them or not. Not acknowledging it and recognizing it sort of means it stresses me more because on top of the anxiety I'm feeling, I have added the pressure to not be anxious, which just makes me feel the anxiety and think about it more. Basically, I'm sending myself the message that it's not okay experience anxiety. Also, the longer the anxiety goes the more gruesome, more frequent, and more terrifying my OCD intrusive thoughts become.
My therapist suggested that, when I experience the anxiety, I should acknowledge the feelings, like the racing heart and chest pain and sweaty palms and tingling hands and feet. Then I should recognize that I didn't do anything wrong that made them happen. Anxiety just happens, much like a sudden headache or muscle cramp. Then I just have to tell myself that feeling anxiety isn't necessarily bad because my body is just functioning the way it's supposed to function, just in overdrive.
I had never thought of anxiety as a thing that wasn't a bad thing until she said that. Anxiety is just the body functioning properly, but it's in overdrive. It's not bad that that happens sometimes. So, it's not a bad thing to acknowledge when it happens instead of pretending that it isn't happening. I mean, toddlers have bad days, and when parents admit that their toddler is having a bad day, it's probably easier to deal with than when they try to pretend everything is fine and they so totally aren't frustrated with the situation. (I also have to admit that realizing anxiety is just my body functioning normally, but in overdrive, might make me less terrified that my anxiety will kill me while I'm home alone.)
I'll end with this: It's okay to admit to yourself that you aren't totally fine. It's okay to admit that your anxiety is having a terrible two's kind of day. Admitting that to yourself is actually a way to get a tiny bit of distance between yourself and your body in overdrive so you can do what you need to do manage it and get to a better place. It's also a kindness to yourself to admit that you're not fine in the moment so you can give yourself an extra bit of compassion and self care instead of adding the pressure to JUST BE FINE ALREADY.
Wednesday, July 5, 2017
We Don't Talk About That
This past week, I spent some time with some old family friends that are more like family than friends. We discuss a whole range of topics. Mental health is one of those topics that tends to come up as some of the people in that group (aside from me) also struggle with anxiety and other mental health conditions. We're not shy about exchanging stories, therapist information, or medication/natural remedies that we have found to be helpful.
This time was a little different. Someone in the group had gotten married in the not-so-distant past, and their husband (whom I had only met a couple of times before this) was part of the group this time. As the topic of mental health came up and we were discussing anxiety issues (mine and one of the teen's anxiety struggles) the husband said in a perturbed tone to his wife, "We don't talk about this." This man acted like the family's struggle with mental health was the elephant in the room everyone pretends doesn't exist over an awkward Thanksgiving dinner. (His wife waved that off, explained that we were family, and the conversation continued.)
This new person acted like mental health was an embarrassing topic, that you hide from other people, like mental health struggles are a dirty little secret. Mental health isn't an embarrassing, dirty little secret. Mental health is simply a health issue that requires treatment just like any physical illness. I'm never embarrassed to talk about my struggle with OCD and Panic Disorder. Why should I be, especially if talking about it could possibly help even one person?
Here is my other problem with what this new person said: if they aren't talking about the mental health struggle that affects this whole family, how do they expect anything to get better? Mental health conditions might only be diagnosed in one person in a family unit, but that diagnosis impacts the entire family unit. Everyone in that family unit should talk about it and make changes as needed to achieve and maintain wellness for the whole family. When one person in a family struggles with a mental health condition, the whole family tends to feel just as helpless and lost as the person with the actual diagnosis sometimes.
Here is another problem: how does that attitude that mental health struggles are a family's dirty little secret make the person with the mental health condition feel? My guess is that it made that person not feel good. Did that attitude make the person feel embarrassed of their mental health? It could have. Did that attitude make the person feel like something is wrong with them, like they should be ashamed? It could have.
Even though the mother still wanted to have a discussion on the topic of mental health, she explained some time later that the teen in question didn't really like to talk about it with people. (The teen was mostly absent during the conversation.) That I understand because some people are just very private people, but I still don't think the new husband should have seemed embarrassed or perturbed by. He could have said, "Well, (insert name) doesn't really like to talk about it," instead of acting embarrassed or irritated by the topic. So, I was left to wonder if the teen not talking about it had more to do with her step-parent's attitude or her own wishes.
Either way, I still feel bothered by the "we don't talk about that" attitude surrounding mental health. Mental health is something that we all NEED to talk about, especially within our own families. Families should be a safe place to openly discuss if something isn't quite right or if you're having a bad mental health day, without feeling ashamed or embarrassed. Healing isn't going to take place until acceptance and kindness take place.
I'll end with this: Mental health conditions aren't a family's embarrassing, dirty little secret. Mental health conditions are just that, health conditions, like any physical illness that the person didn't ask for. Making them feel embarrassed and ashamed for talking about their mental health condition is unkind, and honestly, it can prevent them from seeking help and/or taking medications that they may need to function at a high level. That said, it's totally fine to set boundaries for who with and when you want to talk about your mental health as long as you aren't doing it out of embarrassment or shame.
This time was a little different. Someone in the group had gotten married in the not-so-distant past, and their husband (whom I had only met a couple of times before this) was part of the group this time. As the topic of mental health came up and we were discussing anxiety issues (mine and one of the teen's anxiety struggles) the husband said in a perturbed tone to his wife, "We don't talk about this." This man acted like the family's struggle with mental health was the elephant in the room everyone pretends doesn't exist over an awkward Thanksgiving dinner. (His wife waved that off, explained that we were family, and the conversation continued.)
This new person acted like mental health was an embarrassing topic, that you hide from other people, like mental health struggles are a dirty little secret. Mental health isn't an embarrassing, dirty little secret. Mental health is simply a health issue that requires treatment just like any physical illness. I'm never embarrassed to talk about my struggle with OCD and Panic Disorder. Why should I be, especially if talking about it could possibly help even one person?
Here is my other problem with what this new person said: if they aren't talking about the mental health struggle that affects this whole family, how do they expect anything to get better? Mental health conditions might only be diagnosed in one person in a family unit, but that diagnosis impacts the entire family unit. Everyone in that family unit should talk about it and make changes as needed to achieve and maintain wellness for the whole family. When one person in a family struggles with a mental health condition, the whole family tends to feel just as helpless and lost as the person with the actual diagnosis sometimes.
Here is another problem: how does that attitude that mental health struggles are a family's dirty little secret make the person with the mental health condition feel? My guess is that it made that person not feel good. Did that attitude make the person feel embarrassed of their mental health? It could have. Did that attitude make the person feel like something is wrong with them, like they should be ashamed? It could have.
Even though the mother still wanted to have a discussion on the topic of mental health, she explained some time later that the teen in question didn't really like to talk about it with people. (The teen was mostly absent during the conversation.) That I understand because some people are just very private people, but I still don't think the new husband should have seemed embarrassed or perturbed by. He could have said, "Well, (insert name) doesn't really like to talk about it," instead of acting embarrassed or irritated by the topic. So, I was left to wonder if the teen not talking about it had more to do with her step-parent's attitude or her own wishes.
Either way, I still feel bothered by the "we don't talk about that" attitude surrounding mental health. Mental health is something that we all NEED to talk about, especially within our own families. Families should be a safe place to openly discuss if something isn't quite right or if you're having a bad mental health day, without feeling ashamed or embarrassed. Healing isn't going to take place until acceptance and kindness take place.
I'll end with this: Mental health conditions aren't a family's embarrassing, dirty little secret. Mental health conditions are just that, health conditions, like any physical illness that the person didn't ask for. Making them feel embarrassed and ashamed for talking about their mental health condition is unkind, and honestly, it can prevent them from seeking help and/or taking medications that they may need to function at a high level. That said, it's totally fine to set boundaries for who with and when you want to talk about your mental health as long as you aren't doing it out of embarrassment or shame.
Wednesday, June 21, 2017
Milking It
I was experiencing such a high level of anxiety recently, and as a result of the high anxiety I was crying and having trouble stringing words together to make sentences because I couldn't think. While I was dealing with that high anxiety, I said, "You know I'm not doing this on purpose, right?" In the middle of my anxiety, I felt like I had to make sure the other person knew I wasn't faking my symptoms or using my diagnosis to get out of doing something or to get my way or as an excuse to behave a certain way. I find myself explaining that I'm not faking my symptoms or using my diagnosis as an excuse a lot because I know that's what people might think. I also find myself explaining that just because I get anxious about doing something doesn't mean that I don't want to do it because that also seems to be what people think, which then also leads to wondering if I could be using my anxiety as an excuse and/or faking the symptoms because I secretly don't want to do whatever we're doing.
I know that some people have no problem faking symptoms or using a mental health condition as an excuse for a behavior or an excuse to get out of doing something. Honestly, those people make me angry. I read a personal essay circulating online about a person dealing with Pure O, like me. The writer expressly stated that they used their Pure O to get out of watching movies that they didn't want to watch. I know someone that uses a mental health condition as an excuse to unapologetically be a jerk to his girlfriend.
Mental health conditions aren't like a note from your parents that you can use to get out of PE just because you don't feel like running laps that day. Mental health conditions also aren't a sick day home from school that you can milk for all it's worth. Mental health conditions also aren't a blanket explanation for unpleasant behavior. When people treat mental health conditions like that, it sort of seems like they're just laughing at the tremendous effort it takes for someone else to manage the symptoms of the same mental health condition to appear as "normal" as possible to everyone else around them. Also, as an added bonus result of people using their mental health condition as an excuse: others (even me) are afraid to even admit they experience symptoms at the "wrong time", like in a movie theater, because friends and even family might not believe that they are actually experiencing symptoms and not just making an excuse. Oh, hello mental health stigma, my constant foe. (If you don't want to do something, just say so. You don't have to make excuses, especially not excuses that hurt other people.)
The symptoms of a mental health condition do tend to show up at the times when we least want them. I don't want to be anxious and worry about possibly having another panic attack in the movie theater every time I go, but I catch myself worrying anyway. Just because my anxiety shows up at the movies doesn't mean that I don't want to go to the movies. So, I feel like, in order to make sure no one thinks I'm milking the symptoms of Panic Disorder, I have to pretend I'm fine, even if I don't feel fine. (It's actually the worrying about experiencing the symptoms of the Panic Disorder or OCD at the worst time that can make them show up at the worst time because I'm already thinking about the symptoms so they have a way in. I know this, but I still worry about them sometimes anyway.)
I'll end with this: It's never okay to use a mental health condition as an excuse or to fake your symptoms to get your way or to get out of something. By doing that you're just contributing to the already-stifling amount of mental health stigma that makes people afraid to get help. It's totally okay to take breaks from things and to leave situations that are not good for your mental health. It's also okay to express when you experience symptoms, even in public, and to talk about what might have triggered the symptoms.
I know that some people have no problem faking symptoms or using a mental health condition as an excuse for a behavior or an excuse to get out of doing something. Honestly, those people make me angry. I read a personal essay circulating online about a person dealing with Pure O, like me. The writer expressly stated that they used their Pure O to get out of watching movies that they didn't want to watch. I know someone that uses a mental health condition as an excuse to unapologetically be a jerk to his girlfriend.
Mental health conditions aren't like a note from your parents that you can use to get out of PE just because you don't feel like running laps that day. Mental health conditions also aren't a sick day home from school that you can milk for all it's worth. Mental health conditions also aren't a blanket explanation for unpleasant behavior. When people treat mental health conditions like that, it sort of seems like they're just laughing at the tremendous effort it takes for someone else to manage the symptoms of the same mental health condition to appear as "normal" as possible to everyone else around them. Also, as an added bonus result of people using their mental health condition as an excuse: others (even me) are afraid to even admit they experience symptoms at the "wrong time", like in a movie theater, because friends and even family might not believe that they are actually experiencing symptoms and not just making an excuse. Oh, hello mental health stigma, my constant foe. (If you don't want to do something, just say so. You don't have to make excuses, especially not excuses that hurt other people.)
The symptoms of a mental health condition do tend to show up at the times when we least want them. I don't want to be anxious and worry about possibly having another panic attack in the movie theater every time I go, but I catch myself worrying anyway. Just because my anxiety shows up at the movies doesn't mean that I don't want to go to the movies. So, I feel like, in order to make sure no one thinks I'm milking the symptoms of Panic Disorder, I have to pretend I'm fine, even if I don't feel fine. (It's actually the worrying about experiencing the symptoms of the Panic Disorder or OCD at the worst time that can make them show up at the worst time because I'm already thinking about the symptoms so they have a way in. I know this, but I still worry about them sometimes anyway.)
I'll end with this: It's never okay to use a mental health condition as an excuse or to fake your symptoms to get your way or to get out of something. By doing that you're just contributing to the already-stifling amount of mental health stigma that makes people afraid to get help. It's totally okay to take breaks from things and to leave situations that are not good for your mental health. It's also okay to express when you experience symptoms, even in public, and to talk about what might have triggered the symptoms.
Wednesday, June 7, 2017
We All Have Our Moments
If you live life with a mental health condition, then you probably know that other people, sometimes, don't handle your mental health condition very well. Sure, we already know that life with a mental health condition can be exhausting, confusing, frustrating, and too much altogether. Of course, the people that love us and deal with our mental health condition alongside us are also going to feel that same exhaustion, confusion, frustration, and overwhelming sensation of too much sometimes, too. We all have our rough days that are hard to get through.
Here's the thing, though, at least for me: If I'm already having a rough time, I'm already feeling bad because I'm having a rough time. I feel like a crazy person, and I'm probably already blaming myself for feeling like a crazy person because I know I'm being irrational, yet, I can't seem to make my anxious brain slow its roll so I can try to feel more in control of myself. Then, if someone doesn't deal with my rough day with my mental health condition with compassion, or even if they just genuinely don't get it, I feel even worse, like it's my fault they behaved in whatever way was unkind. I feel like I've just let my mental health condition get in the way, and of course, the person has a right to behave in that way because I did a wrong thing somehow while I was trying to deal with my mental health condition. Then I just want to cry about it and go into shut down mode to avoid making someone else even more frustrated or overwhelmed or confused. In other words, I internalize their negative reaction, and that's a bad thing.
Here's the thing for the other person: If someone reacts to your mental health struggle or rough day without compassion, or if they are unkind in some way, that more than likely has nothing to do with you and your mental health condition. Their negative reaction more than likely has something to do with an unrelated issue that they're dealing with like extra stress at work or in a relationship or just a bad day. The other person may not even realize that they behaved in a way that you felt was unkind because they were so wrapped up in their own issue to the point that everything else was just background noise.
It's okay, when you feel that someone hasn't been kind or compassionate when you're struggling, to feel hurt and to cry it out if you need to cry it out. It's not a good idea to shut down and shut them out because you really need all the members of your support system. You need to communicate with them. How is an issue supposed to be fixed if we don't talk it out? It's unhealthy to stay silent on an issue so that every time the issue comes up, it just adds another weight to the issue pile until it tumbles over in an argument or you lash out. It's not okay to be unkind to someone just because they may have been unkind to you.
Try to be understanding of the person. Look at their life at the moment and see if you can recognize that other things might be causing their frustration and stress. Then talk it out. Tell them that you see other things are going on, and tell them the way you have been feeling about something they may have said or done when you were having a rough time. It's okay to point out when someone does something that isn't helpful as long as it isn't in a blaming or accusing way. (Think: "I feel...when you say/do..." to come across in a way that is easy to listen to.)
I'll end with this: People aren't always going to be good at dealing with a loved one's mental health condition. People get exhausted, confused, stressed, frustrated, and overwhelmed because they're human, and sometimes they don't behave with the compassion that other people need. Even the people that we love and that love us may have a rough day in which they don't deal with us and our mental health condition in the best way, but that doesn't mean they love us less or think we're a burden. Their negative reaction had more to do with them than us, so don't internalize their reaction. Talk to them about what you need from them, about what they do that is helpful and what is unhelpful, and express when they may have hurt your feelings in a kind and non-blaming way.
Here's the thing, though, at least for me: If I'm already having a rough time, I'm already feeling bad because I'm having a rough time. I feel like a crazy person, and I'm probably already blaming myself for feeling like a crazy person because I know I'm being irrational, yet, I can't seem to make my anxious brain slow its roll so I can try to feel more in control of myself. Then, if someone doesn't deal with my rough day with my mental health condition with compassion, or even if they just genuinely don't get it, I feel even worse, like it's my fault they behaved in whatever way was unkind. I feel like I've just let my mental health condition get in the way, and of course, the person has a right to behave in that way because I did a wrong thing somehow while I was trying to deal with my mental health condition. Then I just want to cry about it and go into shut down mode to avoid making someone else even more frustrated or overwhelmed or confused. In other words, I internalize their negative reaction, and that's a bad thing.
Here's the thing for the other person: If someone reacts to your mental health struggle or rough day without compassion, or if they are unkind in some way, that more than likely has nothing to do with you and your mental health condition. Their negative reaction more than likely has something to do with an unrelated issue that they're dealing with like extra stress at work or in a relationship or just a bad day. The other person may not even realize that they behaved in a way that you felt was unkind because they were so wrapped up in their own issue to the point that everything else was just background noise.
It's okay, when you feel that someone hasn't been kind or compassionate when you're struggling, to feel hurt and to cry it out if you need to cry it out. It's not a good idea to shut down and shut them out because you really need all the members of your support system. You need to communicate with them. How is an issue supposed to be fixed if we don't talk it out? It's unhealthy to stay silent on an issue so that every time the issue comes up, it just adds another weight to the issue pile until it tumbles over in an argument or you lash out. It's not okay to be unkind to someone just because they may have been unkind to you.
Try to be understanding of the person. Look at their life at the moment and see if you can recognize that other things might be causing their frustration and stress. Then talk it out. Tell them that you see other things are going on, and tell them the way you have been feeling about something they may have said or done when you were having a rough time. It's okay to point out when someone does something that isn't helpful as long as it isn't in a blaming or accusing way. (Think: "I feel...when you say/do..." to come across in a way that is easy to listen to.)
I'll end with this: People aren't always going to be good at dealing with a loved one's mental health condition. People get exhausted, confused, stressed, frustrated, and overwhelmed because they're human, and sometimes they don't behave with the compassion that other people need. Even the people that we love and that love us may have a rough day in which they don't deal with us and our mental health condition in the best way, but that doesn't mean they love us less or think we're a burden. Their negative reaction had more to do with them than us, so don't internalize their reaction. Talk to them about what you need from them, about what they do that is helpful and what is unhelpful, and express when they may have hurt your feelings in a kind and non-blaming way.
Wednesday, May 24, 2017
Don't Beat Yourself Up
I recently had an issue dealing with my intense fear of falling down stairs. Even though I have been going up and down those same stairs every week for over a year, I suddenly realized just how high up I was on those stairs, and I felt myself teetering on the edge up there. There was no hand rail on the stairs to make sure I kept my balance. I panicked. I froze (literally unable to make myself move even though my brain knew I needed to move), and then once I could move, I just sat down right on the stairs. I eventually made it down the stairs, but by the time I got to the bottom, my hands were shaking more than they ever shook from an exposure exercise.
Once I got to the bottom, and I was safely on the ground, I tried to put on a brave face. I tried to laugh off my "silly" fear of falling down the stairs. I was actually mortified. Instead of feeling like I might cry out of fear, I felt like I could cry from embarrassment. I HATED that I had let my fear get the best of me, especially a fear of something like falling down a flight of stairs. To me, that fear made me feel like a little kid instead of a 26-year-old adult. What adult is so terrified of falling down a perfectly sound staircase that they can't do anything but sit down? I hadn't heard of any. My incident with the stairs felt shameful, like such a wrong thing for me to have trouble with. Also, because my therapist was there to witness the shameful event, I felt super awkward in front of her right after. I wanted to run away and hide.
Before I even made it to the lobby of my therapist's office, I was already beating myself up for the incident on the stairs. My therapist stopped me at the door, and she asked if I was okay. I told her how embarrassed I felt and how I thought the fear of falling down stairs was a stupid thing to be afraid of. She just told me that everybody has some odd fear, and that's just one of the things that we have that makes us all human.
I told her I didn't like it. She told me that I shouldn't beat myself up about having a fear of falling down the stairs or the incident that I had on the stairs leading to her office. She went on to tell me that beating myself up and making myself feel bad about it was only going to make the feeling stick around longer. She said I didn't have to like that detail about myself, but that accepting that I have this odd fear because I'm only human would be the best way to work through it.
This stairs incident wasn't the first time I've beat myself up over something that I can't help. I used to do it with my anxiety, especially the anxiety that hits me in crowded places. I wouldn't like it, and I would think it was the wrong thing to feel at the time. Then I would beat myself up, and the embarrassment would hang around for the entire social encounter. My therapist told me then to not beat myself up and to accept that anxiety happens, just like my weird fear happens, because I'm human.
I still have a bit of trouble coming down the stairs in her office sometimes, but I haven't panicked and been unable to move anymore. I just try not to feel embarrassed or bad about myself when the fear strikes because I don't want those negative feelings to settle in. Some people are afraid of dogs. Some people are afraid of spiders. Some people are afraid of small spaces. I'm afraid of falling down stairs and suffering fatal injuries. I'm sure it's not the strangest thing I could be afraid of, really.
I'll end with this: Everybody has something about themselves that they don't like. We're all human. Everybody probably has an embarrassing fear of something. That's okay. It's NOT okay to beat yourself up about the thing that you don't like. You can accept that something exists or that something happened without liking the thing. The more you beat yourself up about something, the longer it'll hang around and make you unhappy.
Once I got to the bottom, and I was safely on the ground, I tried to put on a brave face. I tried to laugh off my "silly" fear of falling down the stairs. I was actually mortified. Instead of feeling like I might cry out of fear, I felt like I could cry from embarrassment. I HATED that I had let my fear get the best of me, especially a fear of something like falling down a flight of stairs. To me, that fear made me feel like a little kid instead of a 26-year-old adult. What adult is so terrified of falling down a perfectly sound staircase that they can't do anything but sit down? I hadn't heard of any. My incident with the stairs felt shameful, like such a wrong thing for me to have trouble with. Also, because my therapist was there to witness the shameful event, I felt super awkward in front of her right after. I wanted to run away and hide.
Before I even made it to the lobby of my therapist's office, I was already beating myself up for the incident on the stairs. My therapist stopped me at the door, and she asked if I was okay. I told her how embarrassed I felt and how I thought the fear of falling down stairs was a stupid thing to be afraid of. She just told me that everybody has some odd fear, and that's just one of the things that we have that makes us all human.
I told her I didn't like it. She told me that I shouldn't beat myself up about having a fear of falling down the stairs or the incident that I had on the stairs leading to her office. She went on to tell me that beating myself up and making myself feel bad about it was only going to make the feeling stick around longer. She said I didn't have to like that detail about myself, but that accepting that I have this odd fear because I'm only human would be the best way to work through it.
This stairs incident wasn't the first time I've beat myself up over something that I can't help. I used to do it with my anxiety, especially the anxiety that hits me in crowded places. I wouldn't like it, and I would think it was the wrong thing to feel at the time. Then I would beat myself up, and the embarrassment would hang around for the entire social encounter. My therapist told me then to not beat myself up and to accept that anxiety happens, just like my weird fear happens, because I'm human.
I still have a bit of trouble coming down the stairs in her office sometimes, but I haven't panicked and been unable to move anymore. I just try not to feel embarrassed or bad about myself when the fear strikes because I don't want those negative feelings to settle in. Some people are afraid of dogs. Some people are afraid of spiders. Some people are afraid of small spaces. I'm afraid of falling down stairs and suffering fatal injuries. I'm sure it's not the strangest thing I could be afraid of, really.
I'll end with this: Everybody has something about themselves that they don't like. We're all human. Everybody probably has an embarrassing fear of something. That's okay. It's NOT okay to beat yourself up about the thing that you don't like. You can accept that something exists or that something happened without liking the thing. The more you beat yourself up about something, the longer it'll hang around and make you unhappy.
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