Right before Valentine's Day, I had a strange thing happen. I was talking to someone, and the topic turned to mental health. The person was detailing their struggle with what seemed to be Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Depression. I talked about my blog and mentioned that I have Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, and the person says, without missing a beat, "I have that, too." Then they went back to talking about their GAD-related struggles. I mentioned intrusive thoughts, and the person had no idea what I was talking about. (This person also hadn't been diagnosed with OCD, that I am aware of...and this person was very happy to tell me what they had been diagnosed with. OCD wasn't in the list.) This person was also happy to proclaim proudly that they were "crazy".
I wasn't bothered by this sudden addition to the list of conditions. This person just had no idea about Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, or I would have gladly talked to them about it. So, I left wondering if this person actually had OCD. Maybe the person did have some form of OCD, and they just weren't educated about it. Maybe they just think all anxiety disorders are the same. I don't know for sure. I mean, if they didn't have OCD why would they say they did? That didn't make sense to me.
Then, the other night, I was reading some things online about mental health, and I came across something that really didn't sit well with me. I read something like, "OCD is the trendy mental disorder to have right now." This statement was followed by something like, "Having a mental disorder in general is trendy right now." Then something like, "Quirks and awkwardness are trendy right now, so a lot of people are claiming to have mental disorders, especially OCD, when they don't have them." I thought this had to be some kind of mistake.
I did some research, and it turns out that it wasn't a mistake. I saw blog posts and essays and things like that detailing incidences where people were claiming to have OCD because, say, they didn't like melted cheese on their pasta, and, say, because they stopped a waiter in a restaurant and asked him to straighten a crooked picture hanging on the wall. I also saw the usual "neat freak" references and the checking references. Apparently none of the people that did the "so OCD" things experienced any anxiety (according to the writers of the mentioned blog posts, essays, and Tumblr posts), and the people sort of made a joke about it afterwards. The actual OCD sufferers were upset by these things, hence their posts.
When did mental illness become a trend like the clothes we wear? When did someone suffering everyday, with intrusive thoughts and time consuming rituals followed by overwhelming guilt and shame, some even to the point that they take their own lives, become a trend that people wanted to be part of or joke about? Excuse me, but I don't feel very trendy. I feel frustrated and maybe even a little bit angry about it. It feels like everyone that says these things is belittling everyone out there who is struggling with a mental health condition, almost like they're saying, "You're fight doesn't matter to us because everyone knows mental health conditions aren't real problems anyway."
Nobody says, "I'm so diabetic!" when they aren't. Nobody says, "I have AIDS or cancer, too!" when they don't. As a result, people with these illnesses aren't afraid to seek help, or that people won't believe they have them, or that someone will make a joke about them having such illnesses. Nobody thinks these serious illnesses are trendy. No one wants to have these serious illnesses to be cute or cool. Why are mental health conditions viewed so differently?
I'll end with this: Mental health conditions are not trends. Jokingly (or seriously) saying you have a condition because it seems cute or interesting or funny at this time in our society only makes the people that do have them feel the stigma of mental illness that much more. If you wouldn't say it about diabetes or AIDS or cancer, please don't say it about mental health conditions.
Wednesday, February 24, 2016
Wednesday, February 17, 2016
We're All Warriors
My therapist said something a few weeks ago, and it sort of stuck with me. I mentioned that I felt like I was weak because I was having a hard time dealing with my anxiety. If I'm being honest, having a mental health condition made me feel like I was weak. I felt like the people that didn't have to deal with a mental health condition were stronger, or hardier, than me, like maybe if I was stronger, I would be better able to deal with my anxiety or I wouldn't have an anxiety disorder in the first place.
Then my therapist looked at me, and she said, "You know, if you took the anxiety out of your brain and put it into someone else's brain, they wouldn't be able to deal with your level of anxiety. They just couldn't deal with it. So, I don't think you're weak. I think you're more like a warrior." I just had to sit there for a second and process that. I hadn't thought of it that way before. I was just thinking about the fact that I was feeling anxious and doing my best not to show it most days. I hadn't considered that, to someone else, my anxiety would be something they would experience as almost unbearable or crippling.
I got home, and I was still thinking about what my therapist said. After I processed it, and I thought about it a little bit more, I realized that describing me as a warrior for dealing with my OCD and the high level of anxiety that comes with OCD was pretty accurate. I do have a steely determination to get myself better, and I fight for it every single day. It's like fighting a battle against an invisible enemy that knows all your weaknesses and uses them against you.
I've felt tougher ever since I've been thinking about myself that way. My perception of my situation changed, and I haven't felt like a weakling anymore. I feel strong and tough, like a warrior. I like feeling strong and tough. That's actually why I work out, and why I wear a leather biker jacket. I also have purple in my hair because it makes me feel like a superhero, and superheroes are tough.
I think anyone that deals with any kind of mental health condition every day is a warrior. We're dealing with something scary, and some days it can be debilitating,. Yet we put on a brave face each day, and we do our best to be high functioning, productive members of society anyway. Most of the time we don't even let people see us struggling. We just do our best to be fine, and we manage to survive another day on our internal battlefield.
I'll end with this: Just because you have something like Bipolar Disorder, OCD, GAD, Panic Disorder, PTSD, or Depression doesn't mean you're weaker than anyone else. It just means you're human, like everyone else. When you're struggling, remember that you're a warrior, and that you can make it another day, even if you have to take that day hour by hour.
Then my therapist looked at me, and she said, "You know, if you took the anxiety out of your brain and put it into someone else's brain, they wouldn't be able to deal with your level of anxiety. They just couldn't deal with it. So, I don't think you're weak. I think you're more like a warrior." I just had to sit there for a second and process that. I hadn't thought of it that way before. I was just thinking about the fact that I was feeling anxious and doing my best not to show it most days. I hadn't considered that, to someone else, my anxiety would be something they would experience as almost unbearable or crippling.
I got home, and I was still thinking about what my therapist said. After I processed it, and I thought about it a little bit more, I realized that describing me as a warrior for dealing with my OCD and the high level of anxiety that comes with OCD was pretty accurate. I do have a steely determination to get myself better, and I fight for it every single day. It's like fighting a battle against an invisible enemy that knows all your weaknesses and uses them against you.
I've felt tougher ever since I've been thinking about myself that way. My perception of my situation changed, and I haven't felt like a weakling anymore. I feel strong and tough, like a warrior. I like feeling strong and tough. That's actually why I work out, and why I wear a leather biker jacket. I also have purple in my hair because it makes me feel like a superhero, and superheroes are tough.
I think anyone that deals with any kind of mental health condition every day is a warrior. We're dealing with something scary, and some days it can be debilitating,. Yet we put on a brave face each day, and we do our best to be high functioning, productive members of society anyway. Most of the time we don't even let people see us struggling. We just do our best to be fine, and we manage to survive another day on our internal battlefield.
I'll end with this: Just because you have something like Bipolar Disorder, OCD, GAD, Panic Disorder, PTSD, or Depression doesn't mean you're weaker than anyone else. It just means you're human, like everyone else. When you're struggling, remember that you're a warrior, and that you can make it another day, even if you have to take that day hour by hour.
Wednesday, February 10, 2016
Different Strokes for Different Folks
I mentioned that I switched from community mental health to a private therapist in previous posts. I have been seeing the private therapist since December, and I'm really noticing a difference in myself. I'm noticing that my anxiety is holding at low to moderate levels now instead of the extreme highs that I was dealing with before. I also notice that I'm feeling more like my pre-diagnosis and pre-symptom self, and that was something I had been missing for the past 5 months since I'd been in treatment. (Yes, I've had OCD for over 6 years now, but things didn't get too terrible until this summer. I haven't really felt like myself since that time.)
I'm noticing these changes now for a couple of reasons. The first reason is that I'm having therapy once a week now for an entire hour each session instead of 45 minutes every three weeks. (Again, that isn't the fault of the community mental health system. They were doing the best they could with the resources they have.) Now, I have time to deal with one issue at a time, as that issue comes up, instead of trying to cram as much as possible into the sessions, like we were doing in the community mental health agency. (As a result of cramming so much work into each session, my previous therapist had flooded me, too, which wasn't good.)
The other major difference that is responsible for my drastic improvement is the change in the way my current therapist is treating my mental health condition. Both my previous and my current therapist are Cognitive Behavioral therapists (CBT), (which means they use an approach that identifies the unhelpful or messed up thinking patterns and beliefs and change behavior to be more in line with the new more positive and helpful thoughts and beliefs). However, the techniques they use are extremely different.
My previous therapist tried to treat my OCD with Exposure and Response Prevention therapy (ERP), which is a type of CBT that is the recommended treatment for OCD, even the nontraditional type of OCD that I have. However, my previous therapist didn't have a whole lot of experience with OCD, and she told me that before we started. (ERP raises anxiety levels, and then the anxiety is supposed to slowly decrease over time as you get used to the thoughts and challenge them with behavioral activities.) This wasn't happening with me, and more and more intrusive thoughts were coming, spanning all kinds of terrifying areas. The sort of approach my previous therapist used didn't work for me. I'm not sure why. They had also previously tried a medication, and it made my OCD worse even though it worked wonders for everyone else that I read about taking the medication for their Pure O.
My current therapist, also a Cognitive Behavioral therapist, uses a different approach to treat my OCD. So far, my current therapist seems to favor a more cognitive approach (which means she is focusing on changing my thought patterns and my faulty beliefs in regard to my OCD intrusive thoughts instead of stressing the ERP and behavioral changes). In other words, we're talking about my intrusive thoughts, my anxiety, and what I think and believe about all those things. I'm sure we'll get to some ERP activities, but we haven't so far in my treatment.
My current therapist has also pointed me in the direction of some extra resources: workbooks. On the second visit with my new therapist, she suggested that I order an OCD workbook to work through, and I ordered a workbook that actually takes the same cognitive-focused approach instead of an exposure-heavy approach. (The workbook is called Break Free from OCD: Overcoming OCD with CBT by Dr. Fiona Challacombe, Dr. Victoria Oldfield, and Professor Paul Salkovskis, and it comes from somewhere in the UK.) This workbook has helped me tremendously in the short time that I've been reading it and doing the suggested writing activities (making my own charts and things like it shows in the book). The workbook does have some exposure therapy activities that involve bringing on the distressing thoughts on purpose, but I haven't worked up the nerve to dive into those on my own yet. I'll get there, though.
I'm not saying that, objectively, one treatment is better than the other, and I'm not saying that a private therapist is better than a therapist at a community mental health agency. However, subjectively, I think the treatment I am receiving from a private therapist has been a better experience because I am responding better to the treatment used by a private therapist. Different things work for different people, and people respond differently to different treatments because everyone's brain works differently.
I'll end with this: Treatment for mental health conditions isn't a one size fits all sort of thing. People respond differently to different types of treatment because everyone's brain is different. Sometimes, you just have to try different therapeutic approaches and different therapists until you find one that works for you and your brain. The approach that works best may also include medication, and that's alright, too. Just, please, don't give up on treatment because the first few techniques or therapists you try aren't helpful.
I'm noticing these changes now for a couple of reasons. The first reason is that I'm having therapy once a week now for an entire hour each session instead of 45 minutes every three weeks. (Again, that isn't the fault of the community mental health system. They were doing the best they could with the resources they have.) Now, I have time to deal with one issue at a time, as that issue comes up, instead of trying to cram as much as possible into the sessions, like we were doing in the community mental health agency. (As a result of cramming so much work into each session, my previous therapist had flooded me, too, which wasn't good.)
The other major difference that is responsible for my drastic improvement is the change in the way my current therapist is treating my mental health condition. Both my previous and my current therapist are Cognitive Behavioral therapists (CBT), (which means they use an approach that identifies the unhelpful or messed up thinking patterns and beliefs and change behavior to be more in line with the new more positive and helpful thoughts and beliefs). However, the techniques they use are extremely different.
My previous therapist tried to treat my OCD with Exposure and Response Prevention therapy (ERP), which is a type of CBT that is the recommended treatment for OCD, even the nontraditional type of OCD that I have. However, my previous therapist didn't have a whole lot of experience with OCD, and she told me that before we started. (ERP raises anxiety levels, and then the anxiety is supposed to slowly decrease over time as you get used to the thoughts and challenge them with behavioral activities.) This wasn't happening with me, and more and more intrusive thoughts were coming, spanning all kinds of terrifying areas. The sort of approach my previous therapist used didn't work for me. I'm not sure why. They had also previously tried a medication, and it made my OCD worse even though it worked wonders for everyone else that I read about taking the medication for their Pure O.
My current therapist, also a Cognitive Behavioral therapist, uses a different approach to treat my OCD. So far, my current therapist seems to favor a more cognitive approach (which means she is focusing on changing my thought patterns and my faulty beliefs in regard to my OCD intrusive thoughts instead of stressing the ERP and behavioral changes). In other words, we're talking about my intrusive thoughts, my anxiety, and what I think and believe about all those things. I'm sure we'll get to some ERP activities, but we haven't so far in my treatment.
My current therapist has also pointed me in the direction of some extra resources: workbooks. On the second visit with my new therapist, she suggested that I order an OCD workbook to work through, and I ordered a workbook that actually takes the same cognitive-focused approach instead of an exposure-heavy approach. (The workbook is called Break Free from OCD: Overcoming OCD with CBT by Dr. Fiona Challacombe, Dr. Victoria Oldfield, and Professor Paul Salkovskis, and it comes from somewhere in the UK.) This workbook has helped me tremendously in the short time that I've been reading it and doing the suggested writing activities (making my own charts and things like it shows in the book). The workbook does have some exposure therapy activities that involve bringing on the distressing thoughts on purpose, but I haven't worked up the nerve to dive into those on my own yet. I'll get there, though.
I'm not saying that, objectively, one treatment is better than the other, and I'm not saying that a private therapist is better than a therapist at a community mental health agency. However, subjectively, I think the treatment I am receiving from a private therapist has been a better experience because I am responding better to the treatment used by a private therapist. Different things work for different people, and people respond differently to different treatments because everyone's brain works differently.
I'll end with this: Treatment for mental health conditions isn't a one size fits all sort of thing. People respond differently to different types of treatment because everyone's brain is different. Sometimes, you just have to try different therapeutic approaches and different therapists until you find one that works for you and your brain. The approach that works best may also include medication, and that's alright, too. Just, please, don't give up on treatment because the first few techniques or therapists you try aren't helpful.
Wednesday, February 3, 2016
It Only Takes One Person
I started this blog because I wanted to share my mental health journey with other people so that those other people might not feel so alone. For just over six years, I had felt alone with my mental health condition, and I was pretty miserable. I didn't want anyone else to feel that way. I really wasn't thinking about people reaching out to me so that I wouldn't feel alone, too.
This past week, someone reached out to me. The person contacted me, and they told me that they read my blog and that they have OCD as well. The person just wanted to let me know that they could relate to my struggle.
I was so grateful that someone had taken the time so say something like that to me. I hadn't really noticed, but up to that moment, I had been feeling alone with my OCD. Yes, I have a support system that I talk to regularly. Yes, the people in my support system try to understand all the OCD-related things, but sometimes, I feel like they just don't get it. It's easy to still feel alone when you feel like other people don't get what's going on with you.
Talking to somebody who really understood what I was dealing with changed the way that I was thinking about the OCD. At that point in time, while we were chatting, I didn't have to feel awkward about my OCD or ashamed or guilty. I didn't feel like I was weird for talking about it. I wasn't afraid that my conversation partner was going to think I was asking for pity or sympathy, or playing the victim. I didn't have to do my best to say things (or type things) that made me appear to be as "normal" as possible. We were in the same boat. We were having a normal conversation about something that we both deal with every single day (like talking about how the weather effects shoe choices).
I'll end with this: It's no fun feeling like you're alone, especially when you're dealing with the things going on inside your mind. It only takes one person talking about your shared experience with something to make you not feel alone. One person. So, if you're comfortable with it, it's okay to open up about things. It might be a relief to you or someone else, just to know that someone else is struggling with the same thing.
This past week, someone reached out to me. The person contacted me, and they told me that they read my blog and that they have OCD as well. The person just wanted to let me know that they could relate to my struggle.
I was so grateful that someone had taken the time so say something like that to me. I hadn't really noticed, but up to that moment, I had been feeling alone with my OCD. Yes, I have a support system that I talk to regularly. Yes, the people in my support system try to understand all the OCD-related things, but sometimes, I feel like they just don't get it. It's easy to still feel alone when you feel like other people don't get what's going on with you.
Talking to somebody who really understood what I was dealing with changed the way that I was thinking about the OCD. At that point in time, while we were chatting, I didn't have to feel awkward about my OCD or ashamed or guilty. I didn't feel like I was weird for talking about it. I wasn't afraid that my conversation partner was going to think I was asking for pity or sympathy, or playing the victim. I didn't have to do my best to say things (or type things) that made me appear to be as "normal" as possible. We were in the same boat. We were having a normal conversation about something that we both deal with every single day (like talking about how the weather effects shoe choices).
I'll end with this: It's no fun feeling like you're alone, especially when you're dealing with the things going on inside your mind. It only takes one person talking about your shared experience with something to make you not feel alone. One person. So, if you're comfortable with it, it's okay to open up about things. It might be a relief to you or someone else, just to know that someone else is struggling with the same thing.
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