The Boiling Frog

     This week, I've been thinking about this analogy for people in bad situations that I heard in one of my college psychology classes. If you put a frog in boiling water, it'll jump out immediately, but if you put a frog in tepid water and gradually increase the heat, that frog will stay there until it dies. It turns out I am that frog, and the water is my anxiety.
     Let me explain. If my anxiety has a spike in which it goes up very high very quickly, I will take medication to help me bring it down. However, if I start out with low to moderate anxiety that slowly starts to feel more and more out of control, I am more likely to sit there and quietly suffer until I spiral or have a panic attack.
     I don't do this to intentionally cause myself suffering or because I don't want to take the anti-anxiety supplements that my therapist suggested. I end up doing this to myself because I know a piece of the treatment for OCD is to learn to sit with my anxiety and to learn that I don't have to do, or in my case think, the things to appease the anxiety so that it drops off for a short time. I'm also one of those people that thinks that as long as I'm "functional" that I'm fine. (Note: "functional" does not mean not suffering. I can be suffering and still be functional. I did it for years.)
     After four years of regular therapy, it's STILL difficult for me to find the line between sitting with my anxiety and causing myself unnecessary suffering. My therapist is forever pointing this out and gently nudging me to be kinder to myself instead of constantly fighting so hard. She also points out that letting my anxiety keep creeping up and up as I try to sit with it, isn't good for my body or my brain.
     In an effort to be kind to myself, I started giving myself limits for how long I was going to allow moderate anxiety to scream inside my brain or how high I was going to let low anxiety climb before I took something to bring it down. I'll say something like, "Okay. if my anxiety is still high after I make dinner, I'll take something." Or, "If I wake up with anxiety first thing tomorrow, I'll go ahead and take something." Or, "If my anxiety gets up to a 5 out of 10 (we started using the scale during ERP), then I'll take something." Or, "Okay, if the meditation with deep breathing doesn't work, I'll go ahead and take something." I admit, it's hard for me to stick with setting my limits sometimes, but it's a work in progress.
     Strength and suffering can look so similar, especially when it comes to mental health. Here's the thing, though. Saying to yourself, "I don't have to feel like this, and I have the power to help myself not feel like this by taking some (recommended) supplements or (prescribed) medication," shows just as much strength as sitting with the feelings or functioning through the suffering because you were able to recognize a boundary you set with yourself and you didn't budge on it. Setting boundaries, even with yourself and your mental health, is a sign of strength and recovery because it's a little piece of not allowing your mental health condition to control you.
     I'll end with this: Although strength and suffering can look like the same thing, they are not the same. There is a fine line between them, especially in the area of mental health, and we all deserve to find that line and set that boundary. It's okay to take the supplements and/or medications to avoid unnecessary suffering. You don't have to fight so hard on your own because that can actually do more harm than good to your brain and the rest of your body. We all deserve kindness and compassion, most of all from ourselves.