Walking on Eggshells

    There still seems to be this idea that people that live with mental illness are "unstable" as a constant state of existence, like we're walking the line of a delicate balance between normal and having a breakdown. This idea often leads people to "walk on eggshells" around those of use with mental health conditions as they watch, wait, and maybe expect some sort of breakdown to happen, because since we're "unstable" a breakdown is always lurking, ALWAYS imminent.

    I didn't notice that people with mental health conditions were handled so "carefully" until after I was diagnosed with panic disorder and OCD. Then, once people found out about my conditions, I started hearing things like, "Well, I didn't tell you about this because I didn't want to upset you." Or, "I just didn't want you to stress about it, so I didn't tell you." Or even, "I didn't tell you X because you have anxiety, and I didn't want it to get worse."

    Honestly, I don't need people to do that. Most of us with mental health conditions don't need or want people hiding things from us or shielding us from all of life's stress and unpleasantness because of our mental health conditions. (That can just make me feel like people think I can't cope, and THAT is a sure way to make my anxiety worse.) Life, in general, is stressful. Life is unpleasant at times. Situations can be bad situations. But...if we've gone to therapy, we have coping techniques and management strategies for all of those things, including the stress that can exacerbate our mental health conditions. 

    Just because someone lives with a mental health condition doesn't mean that they're always hanging off the ledge about to tumble into a breakdown. A large number of us are actually stable pretty much all the time, and we have regular "stable" lives with healthy relationships, good school performance, and demanding jobs like everyone else that walks through life without a mental health condition. 

    Sure, sometimes people with mental health conditions can have periods in which they become "unstable", but that doesn't mean that being "unstable" is a going to be a permanent state of existence. People can recover from those "unstable times", sometimes with therapy, the addition or adjustment of medication, or (occasionally in more severe or extreme cases) with in-patient treatment for a short period of time. (I recovered with weekly therapy, supplements, meditation, and support from friends and family, and I've been "stable" since I took my "mental health detour".) 

    For some of us, those "unstable" periods may only happen once or twice in a whole lifetime with mental illness. For others it may happen more often depending on the person and the illness, and for some, those periods of being "unstable" may NEVER happen. 

    I'll end with this: Having a mental health condition does not automatically mean that someone is "unstable". A breakdown isn't ALWAYS imminent. Even if someone had a period of being "unstable" before, that doesn't mean that being "unstable" is now a permanent state of existence. People can recover from those periods and achieve a more stable state of existence. If you know and love someone with a mental health condition, there is no need to "walk on eggshells" with them. Most of the time, we just want to be treated like everyone else as much as possible instead of being like something is wrong with us.

You're Allowed to Ask

    I know, to a lot of people, mental illness is this big mystery. Mental illness is a thing that a lot of people haven't experienced, and (to their knowledge) is a thing that they don't have a lot of experience with in their relationships with other people. Most of us don't even learn about them in school, unless we take a psychology class in high school or college, and even those classes can leave us with a lot of unanswered questions.

    So, then when someone finds out that a relative, beloved friend, or romantic partner/interest has a mental health condition, they can be concerned about it and even afraid of it. Unless they have personal or first-hand experience with mental illness, they'll probably be confused by our diagnosis, and then things can get a little weird as they try to understand what our diagnosis means for us and for our relationship to them and the pretty much the rest of the world. We've all been there, right? I assume that we also have all been frustrated by that scenario and wish that the other person would just ask us about our mental illness and everything related to it instead of muddling through, suddenly treating us differently, and maybe even withdrawing while they figure it all out.

    I get it. Mental health is a taboo topic, and people are hesitant to talk about it. This idea exists, too, that the person with the mental health condition HATES talking about their mental health condition because it's shameful, which can make people think it's a bad idea to ask us about our mental health condition because we might be offended or embarrassed. That's not usually the case, especially if we've been clinically diagnosed and are in treatment. 

    Most of us that live with mental health conditions have learned through therapy and support not to be ashamed of them, and we've learned to be honest if we find something to be triggering. That's just part of our normal, but we get how it can be a bit confusing or even scary, if someone else has just learned that we live with something like OCD, PTSD, depression, bipolar disorder, or any other diagnosis. A lot of us don't mind talking about what life is like for us with a mental illness. Most of us realize that openly communicating about our mental health is a good way to make sure our needs are met and to make sure our loved ones gain understanding of the mental illness, the treatment, and the wellness journey.

    It's okay to ask us questions as long as the person asking does so in a respectful way and the question comes from a genuine need to understand a person and their mental health condition better than before. If there is something you don't understand or something you want to know about, you're allowed to ask, even if you feel like the question is probably stupid. (Hint: There are no stupid questions when you're trying to really understand something.)

    I mean, be mindful of the setting if you're going to ask questions, like don't take us out to a fancy or crowded place or wait until we're surrounded by strangers or even friends or coworkers and then expect a deep mental health conversation. (These conversations are best had in private if you want more than surface level answers.) Also, if we're dealing with OCD or PTSD, be mindful of the fact that talking about the intrusive thoughts or the trauma can be triggering, and some days it'll be easier to talk about it than others.

    I, and I assume most other people with a mental health condition, would rather someone ask us questions instead of running with the stereotype presented on TV or instead of having them start acting strangely around us as they try to figure stuff out on their own. If we don't know the answer we'll more than likely be able to point you to a website or article that can help you. (I actually used to have articles on hand that explained my subtype of OCD, and I had highlighted the important parts for easy reading.)

    I'll end with this: Living with a mental health condition can be confusing and sometimes scary, for us and for the other people in our lives. If you find out that a relative, friend, romantic partner, or potential partner lives with a mental health condition it's okay to ask them questions about it as long as you ask in a respectful way. We'd much rather someone ask questions than run with the stereotype they saw on TV or inaccurate information they may have gotten from someone else and then end up treating us differently.

Is Love All You Need?

     Person with a mental illness exists and has symptoms of their mental health condition. Then person with a mental illness meets someone, they fall in love, and suddenly, the mental illness disappears. Happily ever after happens and the mental illness is never mentioned again because love conquers all. I feel like we've all seen that trope in at least one movie or TV show.

    Even in normal, non-Hollywood society, there is this expectation that, when a mentally ill person gets into a (healthy) romantic relationship and the two people fall in love, that the mental illness will suddenly just become better. The other person's love will magically "fix" them. Then if the mental illness is still present, people usually say the other person just doesn't love them enough or that the mentally ill person isn't trying hard enough to be "better". 

    I feel like I shouldn't still have to say this, but...you CAN'T love someone's mental illness away, whether it's an anxiety disorder, depression, a mood disorder, or a substance abuse issue.  A mental health condition, like all other chronic health conditions, is a thing that exists outside of external factors or situations like a romantic relationship or a deep friendship. It exists as a result of internal factors. That means a person's mental health condition has nothing to do with their relationship status and everything to do with that person's brain chemicals (and possibly past traumatic experiences). Love is powerful and life-changing and great, but it can't fix a person's brain chemicals, and expecting love to be this cure-all especially when it comes to mental health is yet another facet of the mental health stigma (because this idea means we're still not taking mental health as seriously as we should be. I mean, nobody thinks they can love diabetes away...).

    I also feel like I shouldn't still have to say this either but...if you're in a relationship with a person that has a mental health condition, it IS NOT your job to "fix" them (or even to stay with them at all, especially if they aren't getting help or are refusing help and/or medication). I know this one, in particular, is hard for a lot of people. It's the mentally ill person's job to work on themselves, to go to therapy and take their medications and change their lifestyle to a healthier one. No matter how much you love them and want them to be "better" you can't force them to do the things that will make them better. (You can definitely encourage them and support them, but you can't force them.)  They need to be internally motivated to begin a wellness journey and keep it up for, you know, the rest of their lives.

    A person can have the "perfect" life. You know...perfectly devoted and loving parents, did well in school, got their dream job in their dream location, found a soul mate, and all those great things that seem to (objectively) make a life "perfect", and they can still have a mental health condition and regularly experience symptoms of that condition anyway. It doesn't mean their partner doesn't love them enough. It doesn't mean that their partner isn't trying hard enough to "fix" them. It doesn't mean that their relationship isn't the "right" relationship. It doesn't mean that the mentally ill person isn't trying hard enough to be "better". It's just the nature of a mental health condition. Symptoms wax and wane independently of how great someone's life is and independently of how much other people love them. (Although stress can exacerbate a mental health condition.)

    I'll end with this: Contrary to what pop culture and the mental health stigma wants us to believe, mental health conditions are serious health conditions. You can't cure someone's mental health condition simply by loving them. You can't love a mental health condition away, just like you can't pray it away. Also, if you're in a relationship with someone who lives with a mental health condition, it IS NOT your job to "fix" them. They're decision to begin and continue on a wellness journey needs to be internally motivated, not solely motivated by their partner or relationship status because it's a journey that should last a lifetime and not just while they have a partner.

The Blame Game

     I used to blame myself for experiencing the symptoms of my mental health conditions. Every time I had an anxiety spike because of my intrusive thoughts or every time I had a panic attack, I blamed myself for it. I had obviously done something wrong in the way I managed my mental health, or I wouldn't have had symptoms flare up, right? I even used to go to my appointments and conclude the details of a bad time with, "I know I did it to myself..."

    My therapist was always quick to interrupt that thought. Then she would ask me something like, "What makes you feel like you did it to yourself?" Then I would have to ashamedly tell her how I had caught myself trying to "out-logic" my intrusive thoughts, or doing some kind of mental compulsion, or kept going to a worst-case scenario sort of place until I caused myself to panic. When it wasn't something like that, I would have to tell her that I had watched or listened to something that I found to be triggering, but that I forced myself to "hang in there" despite an increase in intrusive thoughts and/or feelings of panic. So, basically, if I hadn't done X,Y, or Z, I would have been fine, which just made me feel guilty and ashamed.

    My therapist never blamed me, even if I did do something that caused a flare-up in symptoms. She always explained that old habits of how I dealt with my mental health condition (like trying to out-logic the thought or mental compulsions) were hard to break. Of course, I would go back and fall into old habits sometimes because I was still learning and creating new pathways in my brain that weren't as familiar as the old ways. My anxious brain craved the same old routine, and that would be the place it would try to go to. Sometimes I'd catch myself and redirect, but then sometimes I'd slip up. It didn't mean I was doing it to myself on purpose, and so I didn't need to blame myself. I needed to forgive myself and move on. 

    As for the external triggers, she would ask something like, "Did you know it would be triggering beforehand?" Usually, my answers was something like, "Well, it wasn't triggering before." Or, "The last time, it only bothered me a little and then the anxiety dropped after the first couple of minutes so I was waiting for it (the anxiety) to drop this time, too."

    Triggers, especially when we're dealing with something as unpredictable as panic disorder, can vary. Sometimes a past trigger may not feel as intense, and so I might not have a panic attack. Sometimes something that wasn't a trigger before suddenly becomes a trigger, but then it isn't a trigger the next time. (Panic and OCD are different like that. I know my OCD triggers, but I may not always know if something is going to trigger a panic attack until it does.) My therapist understood that and she would always re-affirm the idea that panic triggers are unpredictable, and so I shouldn't blame myself for not realizing or spotting a trigger before the attack starts every time. 

    I even still catch myself combing back through the day to see what I did wrong on a bad day, but I eventually (mostly) stopped blaming myself for the slip-ups. I shake it off as best I can, promise to do better next time, and move on. Old habits, especially if you've had them for a long time and especially if they helped you manage something as traumatic as a mental health condition, can be hard to break. The point is that you're TRYING to break the old habits and redirect to better, more helpful ways of managing symptoms.

    I'd also like to point out: Sometimes we can do everything "right" in the way that we manage our mental health condition, and we will still experience symptoms. That doesn't mean we did anything wrong or that the symptoms flare-up is our fault. It's a chronic health condition, and symptoms come and go sometimes, no matter how well we've been managing it. So, instead of blaming ourselves for it, we should strive to handle the situation with compassion and understanding. (Having compassion and understanding toward myself is also something that I still struggle with, but I'm working on it.)

    I'll end with this: As with all trauma, it's so easy to slip into looking for someone to blame. With mental health conditions, the person we land on to blame is usually ourselves. That's not okay, friends. We don't need to blame ourselves for our mental health conditions, for experiencing the symptoms, or for the little slip ups that may cause symptoms to present. The old coping habits and management techniques are hard to break, and we'll all slip up sometimes and go back to them. The point is to recognize the slip-up without assigning blame and to try to use a better strategy next time. 

Another Jewel in the Crown

     "You're suffering now, but that just means another jewel in your crown when you get to Heaven." 

    "You're suffering now, but when you come out on the other side of it, you'll be on a path to do great things."

    "There is a reason you're suffering, and it'll help you find your purpose."

    Over the years that I've been living with my mental health conditions, I've heard so many things like the above statements. I know the person saying it always means it in a comforting way. But...I don't find statements like the ones above comforting at all. If I'm being completely honest, I find those statements infuriating.

    Statements that basically mean, "You're suffering right now, but, later, some really great things will come your way," are a way that I've noticed that people try to beautify suffering. They're a way to try to find a meaning where there (often times with mental health suffering) isn't a recognizable meaning other than the nature of mental illness itself with its waxing and waning symptoms. They're a way to "pretty up" the idea of suffering without actually having to do anything to try to ease the real life suffering because the prospect of a new path/new purpose/divinely-given rewards SHOULD be enough to pull someone through the suffering without anyone else expending effort. Statements like those I mentioned above are a pretty way to gloss over an "ugly" thing instead of acknowledging it and then manage it (if you can).

    It's SUFFERING. It isn't beautiful, poetic, or anything else like that. It's UNPLEASANT, so unpleasant in fact that it can be hard to see outside oneself to focus on anything but the mental suffering that often comes with a mental health condition.

    When I'm having a bad time with my mental health, I don't need someone to tell me that my suffering is going to translate into a new life purpose, a new life path, or more heavenly rewards in the future. When I'm actively suffering, I don't care about the future. I don't even care about a few hours later. I only care about making it hour by hour or minute by minute until the suffering is alleviated. I don't need pretty words, I need someone to say, "Okay. I know you're suffering right now. How can I help?"

    When someone is suffering as a result of their mental health condition, statements like the above aren't helpful in a whole other way. The suffering doesn't have some philosophical meaning for our lives...it just IS because our brain chemicals are out of balance. The suffering that comes with mental health conditions isn't a life-changing event, it's a (possibly) regularly recurring state of existence. Suffering as a result of mental health conditions doesn't really equate to a new life path or life purpose because of the the recurring nature. When that kind of suffering is alleviated, sometimes the grand purpose someone has is simply to get back to their loved ones, their job, and their life as it usually is, not to fix anyone else's or the world's problems (and that's okay).

    I'll end with this: So many people use statements that basically say, "You're suffering right now, but it'll be worth it in the end because you'll find a new path/purpose/divinely-given rewards" as a way to comfort someone that is suffering. The thing is that statements like that aren't actually comforting. Those statements just serve as a pseudo-explanation and a way to beautify and then gloss over the suffering. Suffering in any form isn't beautiful or poetic or a path to enlightenment, and we need to stop thinking of it that way, especially when it comes to mental health. 

Room to Grow

     This week in my phone therapy session, my therapist and I were talking about the ideas of growth and change. She talked about how it was okay to experience large-scale changes as we grew, like changing life paths and then restructuring our lives to match who we currently are. Humans aren't meant to stay the same forever, we're meant to grow and change and become different throughout our lives. (This was one of those topics, that if it were acceptable to say "Amen" to your therapist, I would have done so.)

    Sometimes, I look back at who I was from the ages of twenty to twenty-five, and I don't recognize that girl at all. I look back at the choices I made and the the way I thought about so many things, and I think now, "How was that me?" I look back over that time when I feel like I was pretty much controlled by my mental health conditions, and I'm internally screaming, "That doesn't feel like me!" The differences between five years ago and today are stark, and sometimes shocking, even to myself. 

   I feel...different now. Inwardly, I think and believe differently. My opinions are different. My goals are different. The picture I always had in my head of my happiest life doesn't AT ALL match the picture I have now in my head of my happiest life. I feel like I'm on a different path now.

    Outwardly, I'm different, too. I interact differently with people now that I'm no longer carrying around the weight and the trauma of my mental health conditions. I also dress and do my makeup differently than I did pre-therapy. (I mention this because, before therapy, my OCD made me feel like only certain types of clothing and makeup were "safe", and now I get to actually choose the way I look based on what I like. It feels like a big deal, to me, to have that freedom.)

    When people on TV/in movies/pop culture talk about going to therapy and healing and personal growth, they usually mean it in this poetic, romanticized way that doesn't really mean much about their life has actually changed since they've gone to therapy. So, that idea factored into my expectations of therapy. I expected that I would go to my weekly sessions and that therapy would ONLY help me understand, manage, and treat my mental health conditions. I thought it would end there, and that it wouldn't impact other areas of my life. Boy, was a I wrong, my friends.

    I know I mentioned in a previous post that the therapeutic process, and the healing stage in particular, changes us. When I say that I mean it in the most literal sense. That's why I needed to take some time for self-discovery and getting to know myself all over again. I wasn't prepared for that amount of growth and change because that was something people don't usually talk about when they talk about therapy. I also have to admit, when I noticed such big changes in myself, I was a little bit frightened by them, which is a perfectly reasonable reaction to have when you feel like you no longer recognize yourself. (Don't get me wrong, I like myself, but change is scary.) I thought I would want to get back to my life as it had been, but instead I discovered that my old life didn't feel like me in a lot of ways. I had to restructure accordingly to get a life that felt like the current me.

    Before you start therapy, give yourself permission to change and grow. Give yourself permission to grow out of things and even people and to grow into other things and people. Give yourself permission to figure out who you actually are and then BE THAT PERSON, not the person that other people or your mental health condition(s) tell you that you have to be. Create the space ("wiggle room", if you will) that you need to be able to explore and restructure. It's also a good idea to give yourself permission to be a little uncomfortable or even a little scared of the growth and change as it happens. 

    I'll end with this: People don't often talk about the fact that the therapeutic process, particularly healing, literally changes us, and discovering that for yourself can fill jarring, at the very least. But...humans weren't meant to stay the same throughout their whole lives, we're meant to grow and change. You are under no obligation to be the person you have always been. Before you even start therapy, give yourself permission and create whatever space you can to grow, change, and restructure your life to match who you actually are now.

What Could Have Been

     What would my life be like if I didn't have OCD and panic disorder? Who would I be right now if I'd never experienced the first symptom of OCD that day in art history class? Would I have chosen a different major? Would I have chosen a different career path? Would I still live in my small hometown? Would I have actually been married by now? These are just some of the questions I've asked myself when I've let myself drift into the land of "what could have been".

    It's so easy to let ourselves drift into the land of "what could have been", to imagine if just one thing was different about our lives, to imagine who we could have been under different circumstances, especially when we live with a mental health condition. It's also super easy, once we've fantasized about what could have been, to resent our unwell brains for all the choices we think we could have made differently if our mental health conditions wouldn't have been in control at the time. It's so easy, particularly on the bad days, when we feel like our mental health condition is robbing us of peace and normalcy, to say, "If only I didn't have this condition, then maybe I could have..."

    All those "what could have been" scenarios are fantasies, though. None of us has the TARDIS or any other time machine, so it's not like we can go back and re-make the decisions we wish we could change. None of us can go back and just decide to opt out of our mental health conditions. We can't change our genetic predispositions. The past is the past, and living in "what could have been" tries to keep us rooted there, which doesn't help us on our journey to wellness.

    I had to let go of the idea of "what could have been" in order to stop thinking about my mental health condition as the thing that ruined my life so that I could fully accept my new normal and learn to find and create my own happiness in the reality that I actually live in. I had to let go of "what could have been" to acknowledge how far I've come instead of belittling my own progress by focusing on the things I wish could be different.

    Focusing on "what could have been" also stops us from looking at what could STILL BE. We can make different decisions in the present and the future. We can still do things we feel like our mental health got in the way of in the past. We can make changes and correct certain decisions (like finishing school/changing career paths/moving/making new friends). We can still create the lives we wanted, even if we feel like we missed out on "what could have been" in the past. As the old saying goes: We're all one decision away from a completely different life.

    I'll end with this: Focusing on "what could have been" if your mental health condition hadn't gotten in the way stops you from thinking about what could STILL BE. The idea of "what could have been" is a fantasy that is rooted in the past and the person you (maybe) were at one point in your life, and it doesn't allow for growth and change. The idea of "what can STILL BE" is rooted in the reality that takes into account how you've grown and changed, and it contains all the possibilities that "what could have been" holds you back from.