Normal: conforming to a standard; usual, typical, or expected. (I Googled this definition.)
The idea of normal and what I should be to be "normal" has haunted me for practically my entire life since I reached adolescence, and especially since the onset of my OCD and panic symptoms. After the onset of symptoms, I felt like I was no longer normal. (Normal people don't have intrusive thoughts.) Then again, when my symptoms resurfaced, and they were so severe that I had to seek treatment, I was hit hard with the realization that I wasn't normal. (Normal people don't have OCD. Even my OCD isn't the normal OCD that I learned about.) Even recently, since I've been in therapy, I've found myself relapsed to a panicked state of existence because I wondered if I (or aspects of my behavior, personality, or anything about myself) was normal. I felt even worse about myself because I didn't fit the definition of normal.
When you can't be something, it seems like you want to be the forbidden something more than you want anything else. I felt like I would never be normal after I was diagnosed. I wanted to be normal more than I wanted to be anything else in the world. I caught myself monitoring my behavior, my thought patterns, everything in an effort to appear as normal as possible. (Never mind the fact that I'm a writer with a sleeve of tattoos and purple hair, which would make it seem that the "normal" ship sailed without me a long time ago.)
There is one problem with being normal, though. Normal is a subjective idea. No one idea of normal will ever be able to fit every single person in the world. Normal, in the eyes of society, is conforming to the set of ideas that the majority of people have and behaving in an the way that everyone else behaves. (To fit the rural, East TN definition of "normal" that I grew up with, I would have to be an Evangelical Christian, Baptist most likely. I would have a more conventional career in the works like that of a teacher, nurse, lawyer, or a social worker. I'd be a University of Tennessee and a Titans fan. I definitely wouldn't have purple hair. I tried being normal. I gave up.) Normal changes based on where you're from, where you choose to live, the beliefs that you have. Normal changes from culture to culture, state to state, and even family to family.
I called a crisis center while I was panicking, and I had a chat with a therapist that worked there. He pointed out that holding myself to the idea of normal wasn't a good goal to have because normal is so subjective. (As a psychology major I knew that, but I wasn't able to be very logical at that moment because anxiety isn't exactly logical or rational.) I realized that I want to eventually get back to MY normal not what everybody else thought normal was supposed to be.
MY normal is different from everyone else's normal. Everyone's normal is different from everyone else's normal. When I talk about getting back to MY normal I mean getting back to the days when I didn't have panic attacks and wasn't so riddled with anxiety that I couldn't eat; the days when I worked on my book for hours and got so lost in the story that I forgot everything else; the days when I talked to myself and acted out dialogue between the characters I'm writing about; the days when I daydreamed about the day my book gets turned into a movie and maybe, just maybe, I get to go on the Ellen Show. (I've accepted that OCD is just a new part of my normal, and that's alright, just like having Cerebral Palsy is part of my normal, too.) That's MY normal, and I know that sounds crazy or weird or maybe even silly to other people. That's okay, though, because I know their normal is different from my normal. Somebody else's normal might be a 12-hour shift in a hospital, with a significant other, 2.5 kids, and a dog waiting for them in a home with a white picket fence. That's perfectly fine, but that doesn't describe MY normal.
My normal is one type of normal. My OCD might be a nontraditional type, but it's part of MY normal. Life with mental illness doesn't always fit with what society or even our friends and family tell us that normal is supposed to be. That is okay.
I'll end with this: "Normal is an illusion. What is normal for the spider is chaos for the fly."- Morticia Adams. Normal is different for everyone. Instead of focusing on one idea that someone else thinks is normal, focus on YOUR normal. Don't let someone make you feel that, just because you might be struggling with mental illness as part of your normal, your normal is not good enough or "normal" enough.
Wednesday, November 18, 2015
Wednesday, November 11, 2015
Things I Took for Granted
I never actually thought much about how my current life living with mental illness is different from the life I had before the onset of my Pure OCD. Then, this past week, I hit a rough patch, perhaps the worst one since I began treatment. I realized that I took some things for granted before the onset of Pure O. Easy things had become not so easy, even though I pretended that my life hadn't changed so much.
One of the big things I realized I had taken for granted before was good days. Before onset, most of my days were good days. I didn't have to work for them. My good days just happened. Then, mental illness set in, and the anxiety and OCD sort of took that from me. A lot of my days from that point on were days that I just tried to survive, hour by hour, and tried not to get so lost in the deepest, darkest corners of my mind that I'd never be able to find my way out again. I had lots of days like that, and like this rough patch, bad days can turn into bad weeks.
With mental illness, I do have good days just like everyone else in life has good and bad days. The difference between now and before, is that my good days take effort. For lack of a better way to put it, I fight like Hell against my own mind. On the good days, I literally say to myself, "I win at life," because that's how it feels. I appreciate my good days more now, I guess, because I feel like I'm winning a battle when I have them.
I also feel like mental illness took my sense of peace and trust in myself. I've always been a pretty logical person, but I also took my intuition into account when I made decisions. I made life decisions, like where to go to college, my career choice, and even the future I tried to plan in my head based on what my heart told me. (You know the old saying, "Follow your heart because it will never lead you down the wrong path." At least that's what my mother always told me). Don't get me wrong, I also evaluated what my heart wanted with the logical steps to get there. I had peace knowing that my life was guided in such a way, and I trusted myself. I knew, deep down, in my very soul that my decisions were the right ones for me. Then mental illness set in, and I started to second guess every single thing about myself.
I made decisions about my life, and back then, they seemed like the easiest decisions in the world to make. They all felt right. I took a trip through Carson-Newman campus when I was in elementary school, and I knew I would go there because I felt peace while I was there. All through high school, I wanted to write as a career. Sure, I thought about going to graduate school while I was in college, but I always came back to writing because that was where my heart was. I knew a writing career was a risk, but it was a risk I was willing to take. That was the path for me. I forgot about graduate school, and I felt like a huge weight was gone off my shoulders. I felt at peace. Then my OCD picked everything apart, and I accidentally let it. I had taken for granted the ability to trust myself and my intuition.
I struggle more with decisions since the onset of my OCD, and when I make decisions, I agonize over whether or not it was the right decision. I started listening to my head more, and I lost my sense of peace because an anxious brain likes to think of everything that can go wrong. Then those possibilities turn into real dangers inside my mind. Wrong decisions, in my head, lead to catastrophe.
I'll end with this: Mental illness changes things. Mental illness has certainly changed things about my life that I hadn't even thought about. Life with mental illness can feel like an uphill battle some days, and you have to make an effort everyday to fight. Everybody always says it gets better, and the good days feel like that. On my bad days, I try as hard as I can to hang on to the thought that a good day will come around again.
One of the big things I realized I had taken for granted before was good days. Before onset, most of my days were good days. I didn't have to work for them. My good days just happened. Then, mental illness set in, and the anxiety and OCD sort of took that from me. A lot of my days from that point on were days that I just tried to survive, hour by hour, and tried not to get so lost in the deepest, darkest corners of my mind that I'd never be able to find my way out again. I had lots of days like that, and like this rough patch, bad days can turn into bad weeks.
With mental illness, I do have good days just like everyone else in life has good and bad days. The difference between now and before, is that my good days take effort. For lack of a better way to put it, I fight like Hell against my own mind. On the good days, I literally say to myself, "I win at life," because that's how it feels. I appreciate my good days more now, I guess, because I feel like I'm winning a battle when I have them.
I also feel like mental illness took my sense of peace and trust in myself. I've always been a pretty logical person, but I also took my intuition into account when I made decisions. I made life decisions, like where to go to college, my career choice, and even the future I tried to plan in my head based on what my heart told me. (You know the old saying, "Follow your heart because it will never lead you down the wrong path." At least that's what my mother always told me). Don't get me wrong, I also evaluated what my heart wanted with the logical steps to get there. I had peace knowing that my life was guided in such a way, and I trusted myself. I knew, deep down, in my very soul that my decisions were the right ones for me. Then mental illness set in, and I started to second guess every single thing about myself.
I made decisions about my life, and back then, they seemed like the easiest decisions in the world to make. They all felt right. I took a trip through Carson-Newman campus when I was in elementary school, and I knew I would go there because I felt peace while I was there. All through high school, I wanted to write as a career. Sure, I thought about going to graduate school while I was in college, but I always came back to writing because that was where my heart was. I knew a writing career was a risk, but it was a risk I was willing to take. That was the path for me. I forgot about graduate school, and I felt like a huge weight was gone off my shoulders. I felt at peace. Then my OCD picked everything apart, and I accidentally let it. I had taken for granted the ability to trust myself and my intuition.
I struggle more with decisions since the onset of my OCD, and when I make decisions, I agonize over whether or not it was the right decision. I started listening to my head more, and I lost my sense of peace because an anxious brain likes to think of everything that can go wrong. Then those possibilities turn into real dangers inside my mind. Wrong decisions, in my head, lead to catastrophe.
I'll end with this: Mental illness changes things. Mental illness has certainly changed things about my life that I hadn't even thought about. Life with mental illness can feel like an uphill battle some days, and you have to make an effort everyday to fight. Everybody always says it gets better, and the good days feel like that. On my bad days, I try as hard as I can to hang on to the thought that a good day will come around again.
Wednesday, November 4, 2015
More Than You See on TV
While I was getting my hair done this weekend, I overheard something that made me stop for a second. I was sitting in my chair, while the lady dried my hair, and another lady that was waiting for her appointment got up and straightened things on a table to my left. Some rowdy kids had been in the salon, and they had left a mess there on the table. As she was straightening things up, another stylist glanced up from her work and remarked, "Your OCD kicked in, huh." The other lady laughed.
I wasn't offended, but the fact that she just so flippantly threw that out there, just because someone decided to straighten up a cluttered mess, made me stop and think. Why would someone use an actual mental disorder as an adjective in this situation? Why would the stylist's mind automatically turn to OCD when someone was just tidying things? Why? Because stereotypes of mental illness have pervaded our culture. That isn't okay, just like it isn't okay to stereotype someone based on the color of their skin.
I became very aware of how OCD and mental illness in general were stereotyped after my diagnosis. People with OCD are neat freaks. People with OCD check things repeatedly. Quirks equal OCD. The "neat freaks" and the checkers are only two types of OCD. Many different types of OCD exist. Pure O, like I have, is just an example of OCD that people don't hear much about. Also, just because you like your room neat or you like things in multiples of 3 and 5 doesn't mean you have OCD. The difference between a quirk or a preference and OCD is that OCD causes the person distress when they can't say, have something in multiples of 3 and 5, while preferences and quirks don't cause someone distress.
Mental illness in general has quite a few stereotypes. Mentally ill people are dangerous and unpredictable. Mentally ill people are incompetent. Mentally ill people are doomed to be mentally ill forever, and they can never get better or improve.
I did some research on stereotypes about other disorders that I don't have personal experience with as well:
Anxiety: People with anxiety just want attention. People with anxiety are just overdramatic. Anxiety equals panic attacks. For women with anxiety: Oh, she's just menstrual or over-emotional.
*Anyone can have anxiety, and they can't help it. You can't turn it off and on or fake it for attention. Not everyone with anxiety has panic attacks.
Bipolar Disorder: He or she is just moody. People with Bipolar Disorder are dangerous. People with Bipolar Disorder aren't able to be high functioning, productive members of society.
*Bipolar Disorder isn't just moodiness. Many people with Bipolar Disorder are high functioning and productive. Just look at Demi Lovato. Most people with any kind of mental illness are not violent or dangerous at all.
Depression: Happy people can't be depressed. Depression is just sadness. Depression is a result of life circumstances.
*Just because someone seems happy doesn't mean they can't be depressed. You can have good days and bad days. Depression isn't just sadness. It is a whole range of emotions from self-loathing, despair, shame, guilt, and then sometimes it's hard to feel anything at all. Life circumstances don't cause depression.
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder: Only soldiers can have PTSD.
*People that have never served in the military can have PTSD, like abuse or rape victims and survivors of natural disasters. Also, not everyone that goes into a combat zone comes home with PTSD.
Eating Disorders: Eating disorders only happen to skinny, white girls. Eating Disorders aren't real disorders.
*Eating disorders can happen to anyone regardless of gender, ethnicity, socioeconomic status, or popularity. They are real problems that need psychological treatment, and they take time to treat. The sufferer can't just stop it.
These stereotypes have a huge effect on the people they are applied to. Stereotypes affect the way a person sees themselves, and the way the world views the stereotyped person. Mental health stereotypes can determine whether or not a person seeks help. Maybe they have OCD, but they don't fit the neatness or checking stereotype that we see so often portrayed in the media that the think they don't have the disorder. So, because they don't fit the stereotype they may continue to suffer in silence because they think no one else will believe them.
Back to the flippant use of a mental disorder that I heard in the salon over the weekend. I'm sure the stylist and the lady didn't think anything of using the term OCD. Before my diagnosis, I might not have even noticed it. Since I did notice it, I think it points out a different problem in our society. The problem is that people aren't educated about mental health. Sure, they know about disorders and things, but most only know what they see portrayed in the media, which isn't a complete and accurate picture. If more people were educated about what mental disorders actually were, if they knew about the suffering that came with a diagnosis like OCD or Depression, and the feelings of shame and guilt at not being "normal", they might be as quick to flippantly use terms like that about themselves and others.
I'll end with this: Mental illness is so much more than the stereotypes that pervade our society. Mental illnesses are real illnesses, just like asthma and diabetes. Mental illnesses are not jokes or funny or less serious than other forms of illness. Mental illness doesn't mean unpredictability, violence, or an inability to have a great, healthy, and productive life.
I wasn't offended, but the fact that she just so flippantly threw that out there, just because someone decided to straighten up a cluttered mess, made me stop and think. Why would someone use an actual mental disorder as an adjective in this situation? Why would the stylist's mind automatically turn to OCD when someone was just tidying things? Why? Because stereotypes of mental illness have pervaded our culture. That isn't okay, just like it isn't okay to stereotype someone based on the color of their skin.
I became very aware of how OCD and mental illness in general were stereotyped after my diagnosis. People with OCD are neat freaks. People with OCD check things repeatedly. Quirks equal OCD. The "neat freaks" and the checkers are only two types of OCD. Many different types of OCD exist. Pure O, like I have, is just an example of OCD that people don't hear much about. Also, just because you like your room neat or you like things in multiples of 3 and 5 doesn't mean you have OCD. The difference between a quirk or a preference and OCD is that OCD causes the person distress when they can't say, have something in multiples of 3 and 5, while preferences and quirks don't cause someone distress.
Mental illness in general has quite a few stereotypes. Mentally ill people are dangerous and unpredictable. Mentally ill people are incompetent. Mentally ill people are doomed to be mentally ill forever, and they can never get better or improve.
I did some research on stereotypes about other disorders that I don't have personal experience with as well:
Anxiety: People with anxiety just want attention. People with anxiety are just overdramatic. Anxiety equals panic attacks. For women with anxiety: Oh, she's just menstrual or over-emotional.
*Anyone can have anxiety, and they can't help it. You can't turn it off and on or fake it for attention. Not everyone with anxiety has panic attacks.
Bipolar Disorder: He or she is just moody. People with Bipolar Disorder are dangerous. People with Bipolar Disorder aren't able to be high functioning, productive members of society.
*Bipolar Disorder isn't just moodiness. Many people with Bipolar Disorder are high functioning and productive. Just look at Demi Lovato. Most people with any kind of mental illness are not violent or dangerous at all.
Depression: Happy people can't be depressed. Depression is just sadness. Depression is a result of life circumstances.
*Just because someone seems happy doesn't mean they can't be depressed. You can have good days and bad days. Depression isn't just sadness. It is a whole range of emotions from self-loathing, despair, shame, guilt, and then sometimes it's hard to feel anything at all. Life circumstances don't cause depression.
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder: Only soldiers can have PTSD.
*People that have never served in the military can have PTSD, like abuse or rape victims and survivors of natural disasters. Also, not everyone that goes into a combat zone comes home with PTSD.
Eating Disorders: Eating disorders only happen to skinny, white girls. Eating Disorders aren't real disorders.
*Eating disorders can happen to anyone regardless of gender, ethnicity, socioeconomic status, or popularity. They are real problems that need psychological treatment, and they take time to treat. The sufferer can't just stop it.
These stereotypes have a huge effect on the people they are applied to. Stereotypes affect the way a person sees themselves, and the way the world views the stereotyped person. Mental health stereotypes can determine whether or not a person seeks help. Maybe they have OCD, but they don't fit the neatness or checking stereotype that we see so often portrayed in the media that the think they don't have the disorder. So, because they don't fit the stereotype they may continue to suffer in silence because they think no one else will believe them.
Back to the flippant use of a mental disorder that I heard in the salon over the weekend. I'm sure the stylist and the lady didn't think anything of using the term OCD. Before my diagnosis, I might not have even noticed it. Since I did notice it, I think it points out a different problem in our society. The problem is that people aren't educated about mental health. Sure, they know about disorders and things, but most only know what they see portrayed in the media, which isn't a complete and accurate picture. If more people were educated about what mental disorders actually were, if they knew about the suffering that came with a diagnosis like OCD or Depression, and the feelings of shame and guilt at not being "normal", they might be as quick to flippantly use terms like that about themselves and others.
I'll end with this: Mental illness is so much more than the stereotypes that pervade our society. Mental illnesses are real illnesses, just like asthma and diabetes. Mental illnesses are not jokes or funny or less serious than other forms of illness. Mental illness doesn't mean unpredictability, violence, or an inability to have a great, healthy, and productive life.
Wednesday, October 28, 2015
Sticks and Stones
We've all heard the saying, "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me" said by well-meaning family, friends, teachers, and all other sorts of people. The people that told us that old adage meant well, but let's face it, words do hurt. People say mean things out of ignorance, anger, fear, or just to be mean. So, to continue the topic of the mental health stigma, I'm going to mention some of the stuff that people say to others that are dealing with mental illness. I've experienced a few of these things myself, but I've seen a lot of hurtful things written on other blogs about mental health that I've been reading lately.
1. "You should be locked up." (In an institution)
My grandmother would say this to my mother (who suffers from anxiety and sometimes panic attacks) on her worst days. I'm not sure why she would always threaten this right after my mother had a panic attack or got depressed, but that was always the threat. I try to think that maybe it was some kind of tough love tactic that she used to try to force my mother to pull herself together and carry on, but it didn't help.
If someone is having a hard time dealing with something, threatening something like this is never going to help. Odds are, the person will be scared, and it could make the symptoms worse. I was so afraid that I really would be sent away to a mental health facility when I started struggling, and that's a big part of why I didn't tell anyone.
2. "It's all in your head."
Yes, we are aware that our mental health problems are all in our heads. People say this to (possibly) try to give us a change in perspective, maybe to make us realize that our fears and worries aren't actually going to happen, but it comes across as dismissive, like it isn't a real (and terrifying) problem.
3. "Just let it go." /"Snap out of it."
Telling someone struggling with mental illness to just let it go or to snap out of it, is the equivalent of telling someone with diabetes to just let it go or to snap out of it. Before I was clinically diagnosed, my mother would tell me to just let things go because she didn't understand that with an anxious brain, thoughts, worries, fears, get stuck, and then they roll around in my head like a pinball in one of those Pinball machines. (She has since apologized, and she doesn't say anything like this anymore.)
When someone says one of these things, it just makes us feel worse. This sort of comes across as you're frustrated with us or tired of dealing with us. We're just as frustrated and tired of dealing with it, too, some days, and we wish we could just be better. Statements like this almost feel like they have an accusatory meaning, like, "Just be better, already."
4. "Maybe you want to feel this way."
A friend that I love dearly said this to me when I first confided that, sometimes, my mind goes to a really dark place, and I can't seem to pull myself out of it. I was getting ready to tell her about the intrusive thoughts and to ask her if she had ever experienced anything like that. Then she said that. My friend seemed to think, that because I couldn't pull myself out of the spiral I had gotten into, I wanted to be in that dark place...the dark place where I was sure God didn't love me anymore, where I was sure I was going to Hell, where I was sure I was evil/possessed/crazy. NO! Nope! Just...no.
This statement is possibly the worst thing you could say to someone suffering from mental illness in my opinion. This sounds like you're blaming them for feeling the way they feel. I'm sure my friend didn't mean it that way. I'm not sure what she meant by that. I just know that, when my friend said that, I no longer wanted to talk about what I was going through, and I didn't.
5. "Why can't you just deal with it on your own?"
The decision to seek treatment for mental illness is a hard one to make. Questions like this, even if they aren't meant to, sound judgmental. When someone is thinking about getting counseling and/or taking medication for their mental health, some tend it see that as weakness. If you're close to someone who is struggling with a decision like this, asking something like that could sway them. People are less likely to make a decision when they feel like they'll be judged or not accepted for it. This is why so many people never get help.
For me, personally, the things I just mentioned aren't even the most alarming. As a person of faith, I've seen that other people of faith that aren't struggling with mental illness can say things that are psychologically damaging, even when they mean well. I've seen things like this all over the Internet while I've been reading other blogs, and every time I see them, I cringe. After some of the things I've read about, I can't really blame people for being afraid of Christianity or leaving Christianity completely.
1. "God won't give you more than you can handle."
This statement is something that is meant with the best of intentions, I know. I understand this is said as a way to try and get another person to see their own strength during a rough time. I get all that, but when this is said in reference to mental illness, it can take on a whole different interpretation. When you say something like that to a person struggling with mental illness, it isn't comforting. It almost sounds like, "God gave you this mental illness because God knew you could handle it."
Some days, living with mental illness is like living in your own personal Hell on Earth, and some days it feels like a punishment. Implying that God had something to do with why someone is suffering like that, just because they're a strong person, or maybe even that God is testing their strength is a terrible idea. Think about this, what does that say about the person suffering when they feel like they can't handle it anymore? They're going to feel like they're letting God down because they can't handle something they now think God gave them. Also, think about how that might negatively affect their view of God after you say that to them.
2. "Pray about it and God will heal you."
I actually saw this in a comment section for somebody's blog about their struggle with depression. Saying this to someone who has been diagnosed with a mental illness, or who confides in you that they think they have a mental health issue is implying that they shouldn't seek medical treatment. You're basically saying that they can pray mental illness away. It also implies that, maybe, because they prayed about it and didn't get better, that their faith isn't strong enough, or that God doesn't want to heal them.
As someone who is a person of faith and has prayed that God would "fix" me, I can tell you just how damaging this statement can be. I thought God wasn't helping me because God didn't love me, that maybe I deserved to feel this way because God had to have a reason for not making me better. At my lowest (freshman year of college) I thought, it would be okay if I just didn't wake up the next morning because that would have been more merciful than having to feel like God was purposefully not helping me. (It got better, and I no longer feel this way. It took a while.)
3. "You're problem is that you don't have Jesus."/ "You just need Jesus and you won't have X."
I saw this comment on a Buzzfeed article comment section about mental illness. The problem is a chemical imbalance in a person's brain or a traumatic event (for PTSD). The problem is not a person's perceived lack of faith. Statements like this imply that only non-Christians have mental health issues, and that isn't true. Plenty of Christians struggle with mental illness. This also implies that the Christians suffering with mental illness, somehow aren't Christian enough, and that's why they're suffering.
I'll end with this: Be mindful of the things you say to people. You never know how much and for how long somebody might have been suffering or how much effort they expend on a daily basis just to fit society's definition of normal. If you've heard anything like what I've mentioned in this blog, please know that comments like these say more about the speaker than they say about you. Having a mental health problem is not your fault, and it is not an indicator of your faith (or your lack of faith) in a higher power.
1. "You should be locked up." (In an institution)
My grandmother would say this to my mother (who suffers from anxiety and sometimes panic attacks) on her worst days. I'm not sure why she would always threaten this right after my mother had a panic attack or got depressed, but that was always the threat. I try to think that maybe it was some kind of tough love tactic that she used to try to force my mother to pull herself together and carry on, but it didn't help.
If someone is having a hard time dealing with something, threatening something like this is never going to help. Odds are, the person will be scared, and it could make the symptoms worse. I was so afraid that I really would be sent away to a mental health facility when I started struggling, and that's a big part of why I didn't tell anyone.
2. "It's all in your head."
Yes, we are aware that our mental health problems are all in our heads. People say this to (possibly) try to give us a change in perspective, maybe to make us realize that our fears and worries aren't actually going to happen, but it comes across as dismissive, like it isn't a real (and terrifying) problem.
3. "Just let it go." /"Snap out of it."
Telling someone struggling with mental illness to just let it go or to snap out of it, is the equivalent of telling someone with diabetes to just let it go or to snap out of it. Before I was clinically diagnosed, my mother would tell me to just let things go because she didn't understand that with an anxious brain, thoughts, worries, fears, get stuck, and then they roll around in my head like a pinball in one of those Pinball machines. (She has since apologized, and she doesn't say anything like this anymore.)
When someone says one of these things, it just makes us feel worse. This sort of comes across as you're frustrated with us or tired of dealing with us. We're just as frustrated and tired of dealing with it, too, some days, and we wish we could just be better. Statements like this almost feel like they have an accusatory meaning, like, "Just be better, already."
4. "Maybe you want to feel this way."
A friend that I love dearly said this to me when I first confided that, sometimes, my mind goes to a really dark place, and I can't seem to pull myself out of it. I was getting ready to tell her about the intrusive thoughts and to ask her if she had ever experienced anything like that. Then she said that. My friend seemed to think, that because I couldn't pull myself out of the spiral I had gotten into, I wanted to be in that dark place...the dark place where I was sure God didn't love me anymore, where I was sure I was going to Hell, where I was sure I was evil/possessed/crazy. NO! Nope! Just...no.
This statement is possibly the worst thing you could say to someone suffering from mental illness in my opinion. This sounds like you're blaming them for feeling the way they feel. I'm sure my friend didn't mean it that way. I'm not sure what she meant by that. I just know that, when my friend said that, I no longer wanted to talk about what I was going through, and I didn't.
5. "Why can't you just deal with it on your own?"
The decision to seek treatment for mental illness is a hard one to make. Questions like this, even if they aren't meant to, sound judgmental. When someone is thinking about getting counseling and/or taking medication for their mental health, some tend it see that as weakness. If you're close to someone who is struggling with a decision like this, asking something like that could sway them. People are less likely to make a decision when they feel like they'll be judged or not accepted for it. This is why so many people never get help.
For me, personally, the things I just mentioned aren't even the most alarming. As a person of faith, I've seen that other people of faith that aren't struggling with mental illness can say things that are psychologically damaging, even when they mean well. I've seen things like this all over the Internet while I've been reading other blogs, and every time I see them, I cringe. After some of the things I've read about, I can't really blame people for being afraid of Christianity or leaving Christianity completely.
1. "God won't give you more than you can handle."
This statement is something that is meant with the best of intentions, I know. I understand this is said as a way to try and get another person to see their own strength during a rough time. I get all that, but when this is said in reference to mental illness, it can take on a whole different interpretation. When you say something like that to a person struggling with mental illness, it isn't comforting. It almost sounds like, "God gave you this mental illness because God knew you could handle it."
Some days, living with mental illness is like living in your own personal Hell on Earth, and some days it feels like a punishment. Implying that God had something to do with why someone is suffering like that, just because they're a strong person, or maybe even that God is testing their strength is a terrible idea. Think about this, what does that say about the person suffering when they feel like they can't handle it anymore? They're going to feel like they're letting God down because they can't handle something they now think God gave them. Also, think about how that might negatively affect their view of God after you say that to them.
2. "Pray about it and God will heal you."
I actually saw this in a comment section for somebody's blog about their struggle with depression. Saying this to someone who has been diagnosed with a mental illness, or who confides in you that they think they have a mental health issue is implying that they shouldn't seek medical treatment. You're basically saying that they can pray mental illness away. It also implies that, maybe, because they prayed about it and didn't get better, that their faith isn't strong enough, or that God doesn't want to heal them.
As someone who is a person of faith and has prayed that God would "fix" me, I can tell you just how damaging this statement can be. I thought God wasn't helping me because God didn't love me, that maybe I deserved to feel this way because God had to have a reason for not making me better. At my lowest (freshman year of college) I thought, it would be okay if I just didn't wake up the next morning because that would have been more merciful than having to feel like God was purposefully not helping me. (It got better, and I no longer feel this way. It took a while.)
3. "You're problem is that you don't have Jesus."/ "You just need Jesus and you won't have X."
I saw this comment on a Buzzfeed article comment section about mental illness. The problem is a chemical imbalance in a person's brain or a traumatic event (for PTSD). The problem is not a person's perceived lack of faith. Statements like this imply that only non-Christians have mental health issues, and that isn't true. Plenty of Christians struggle with mental illness. This also implies that the Christians suffering with mental illness, somehow aren't Christian enough, and that's why they're suffering.
I'll end with this: Be mindful of the things you say to people. You never know how much and for how long somebody might have been suffering or how much effort they expend on a daily basis just to fit society's definition of normal. If you've heard anything like what I've mentioned in this blog, please know that comments like these say more about the speaker than they say about you. Having a mental health problem is not your fault, and it is not an indicator of your faith (or your lack of faith) in a higher power.
Wednesday, October 21, 2015
Labeled
I remember exactly how I felt when I got my diagnosis from a mental health professional. I felt a mix of emotions. I felt relieved because I finally had an explanation for what was going on and a treatment plan. I also felt a little freaked out because something was actually wrong with me. I also felt labeled, like I had a Post-It slapped on my forehead that told everyone what, exactly, was wrong with me.
I had a weird experience with this whole diagnosis thing because I was misdiagnosed in the beginning. I mentioned in previous posts that I was diagnosed with Panic Disorder in the beginning. I felt fine about that, for some reason. Panic attacks are something that other people have to deal with, too. Panic attacks can be a "normal" response to stress or dangerous situations, in some instances. I didn't mind people knowing that I had Panic Disorder. I didn't mind talking about it and telling everyone. I still felt labeled, but it was a label that I felt wasn't a big deal for me.
Then my diagnosis was changed to Primarily Obsessive OCD (also mentioned as Purely Obsessional OCD and Pure O). I wasn't fine with that. For some reason, in my mind, Pure O made me sound "crazier", like something was really wrong with me. I found it harder to talk about Pure O than I had about Panic Disorder. I didn't really want people to know about it. I started to worry about stereotypes of people with OCD and how other people think of people like me. I was afraid people would suddenly act differently toward me, or think that I was crazy and avoid me. I was actually a little bit ashamed of my brain chemistry because it wasn't "normal".
I hadn't had any experience with the stigma associated with mental health until this point. Then I got diagnosed with something that is considered a pretty serious condition (all mental health conditions are serious, but some are viewed as potentially more debilitating), and I really felt that diagnosis. I really felt like I had a Post-It slapped on my forehead. I felt like I had a secret that I desperately wanted to hide from everybody else. It took me a few days to even work up the nerve to tell the people in my support system about my change in diagnosis because I was afraid they might change their opinion of me. My response to combat that feeling was to post about my blog on my Facebook. (I had a small freak out afterwards.)
I also posted my blog as a way to combat the mental health stigma in our society. In our society, people with mental health issues, whether it's Panic Disorder, OCD, PTSD, Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Schizophrenia, or any other kind of mental health problem, often suffer in silence, and some commit suicide because they can't or won't get help. Society makes people think of mental health as a dirty little secret that they should handle on their own, instead of a condition like diabetes or allergies. Caring for mental health should be viewed in the same way as taking care of physical health.
Then if a person actually gets help, the stigma can be felt even more, especially if medication is involved in treatment. Society tells them they are weak, when, in fact, it takes so much strength to admit that something is wrong and to ask for help. Plus, if someone gets a diagnosis, society makes them feel like something broken or something to be ignored or avoided. Society may even use your disorder as an adjective or as a joke on TV. That isn't okay at all.
I found something that helped change the way I felt about my diagnosis. I found somebody that I already thought was pretty cool who also had OCD. She didn't have Pure O like me, but she wasn't shy about talking about her form of OCD. Allison Raskin, from Buzzfeed and the YouTube show, Just Between Us, talks about the fact that she's been dealing with OCD since childhood, and she isn't ashamed of it. Her creative business partner and friend, Gaby Dunn, also talks about her struggle with Depression. They're doing a great job of rocking at the whole life thing.
I'm not saying that you should idolize influential or famous people or anything like that, and I'm not saying this should replace your support system in terms of helping you cope. I'm just throwing something out there that might make some people feel less weird after a diagnosis. I know, sometimes, dealing with mental illness can make you feel alone, like you're the only one dealing with your particular problem. I promise that isn't the case. So, maybe, you could look at somebody that also has been diagnosed with the same disorder in the spotlight, just so you know you're not the only one. (Hint: Demi Lovato is a pretty cool mental health advocate these days.)
I'll end with this: You don't have to suffer in silence. Mental health is not a dirty little secret that everyone should be afraid to talk about. Mental health disorders are serious conditions just like diabetes, and they shouldn't be ignored, made light of, or joked about. Being diagnosed with a mental illness is nothing to be ashamed of, and neither is seeking treatment.
I had a weird experience with this whole diagnosis thing because I was misdiagnosed in the beginning. I mentioned in previous posts that I was diagnosed with Panic Disorder in the beginning. I felt fine about that, for some reason. Panic attacks are something that other people have to deal with, too. Panic attacks can be a "normal" response to stress or dangerous situations, in some instances. I didn't mind people knowing that I had Panic Disorder. I didn't mind talking about it and telling everyone. I still felt labeled, but it was a label that I felt wasn't a big deal for me.
Then my diagnosis was changed to Primarily Obsessive OCD (also mentioned as Purely Obsessional OCD and Pure O). I wasn't fine with that. For some reason, in my mind, Pure O made me sound "crazier", like something was really wrong with me. I found it harder to talk about Pure O than I had about Panic Disorder. I didn't really want people to know about it. I started to worry about stereotypes of people with OCD and how other people think of people like me. I was afraid people would suddenly act differently toward me, or think that I was crazy and avoid me. I was actually a little bit ashamed of my brain chemistry because it wasn't "normal".
I hadn't had any experience with the stigma associated with mental health until this point. Then I got diagnosed with something that is considered a pretty serious condition (all mental health conditions are serious, but some are viewed as potentially more debilitating), and I really felt that diagnosis. I really felt like I had a Post-It slapped on my forehead. I felt like I had a secret that I desperately wanted to hide from everybody else. It took me a few days to even work up the nerve to tell the people in my support system about my change in diagnosis because I was afraid they might change their opinion of me. My response to combat that feeling was to post about my blog on my Facebook. (I had a small freak out afterwards.)
I also posted my blog as a way to combat the mental health stigma in our society. In our society, people with mental health issues, whether it's Panic Disorder, OCD, PTSD, Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Schizophrenia, or any other kind of mental health problem, often suffer in silence, and some commit suicide because they can't or won't get help. Society makes people think of mental health as a dirty little secret that they should handle on their own, instead of a condition like diabetes or allergies. Caring for mental health should be viewed in the same way as taking care of physical health.
Then if a person actually gets help, the stigma can be felt even more, especially if medication is involved in treatment. Society tells them they are weak, when, in fact, it takes so much strength to admit that something is wrong and to ask for help. Plus, if someone gets a diagnosis, society makes them feel like something broken or something to be ignored or avoided. Society may even use your disorder as an adjective or as a joke on TV. That isn't okay at all.
I found something that helped change the way I felt about my diagnosis. I found somebody that I already thought was pretty cool who also had OCD. She didn't have Pure O like me, but she wasn't shy about talking about her form of OCD. Allison Raskin, from Buzzfeed and the YouTube show, Just Between Us, talks about the fact that she's been dealing with OCD since childhood, and she isn't ashamed of it. Her creative business partner and friend, Gaby Dunn, also talks about her struggle with Depression. They're doing a great job of rocking at the whole life thing.
I'm not saying that you should idolize influential or famous people or anything like that, and I'm not saying this should replace your support system in terms of helping you cope. I'm just throwing something out there that might make some people feel less weird after a diagnosis. I know, sometimes, dealing with mental illness can make you feel alone, like you're the only one dealing with your particular problem. I promise that isn't the case. So, maybe, you could look at somebody that also has been diagnosed with the same disorder in the spotlight, just so you know you're not the only one. (Hint: Demi Lovato is a pretty cool mental health advocate these days.)
I'll end with this: You don't have to suffer in silence. Mental health is not a dirty little secret that everyone should be afraid to talk about. Mental health disorders are serious conditions just like diabetes, and they shouldn't be ignored, made light of, or joked about. Being diagnosed with a mental illness is nothing to be ashamed of, and neither is seeking treatment.
Wednesday, October 14, 2015
Pure O
When most people, myself included, think of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, they tend to think about the type of OCD that involves cleanliness, fear of contamination and repeated hand washing, or the checking type of OCD, which involves someone checking and re-checking things, like locked doors or light switches. I learned about OCD that way in college, and so did my counselor. We didn't know what Purely Obsessional OCD, or Pure O, was so, in case anyone else out there might be trying to figure all this out like me, I'll explain it. (Or, I should say, I'll explain what I've figured out so far based on personal experience and research.)
Pure O is a subtype of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder that seems to be a fairly new area of research from what I've been reading. Almost all the obsessive and compulsive parts take place inside a person's head, so that they might show very few (if any) behavioral compulsions that other people can see. Hence, the not-so-accurate name "Pure O", because other people, including a mental health professional, can't see the person performing the compulsions. That's why Pure O is often misdiagnosed as another anxiety disorder like Generalized Anxiety Disorder or, in my case, Panic Disorder (Wochner, 2012).
The compulsions are still present in Pure O, but they are actually mental rituals instead of observable behaviors. Some of the compulsive things I've noticed in myself include trying to figure out why I have the intrusive thoughts that I have, trying to forcefully control the thought, questioning my morality, repeating certain words and phrases in my head (like, "Please, God," over and over), excessively praying for forgiveness (because I'm sure I've sinned and can't remember it), overanalyzing my body language and behavior so I appear as normal as possible to everyone around (so no one can guess what's going on inside my mind), avoiding people/places/situations that make the obsessions and intrusive thoughts worse (I avoid movies about demonic possession and apocalyptic themed movies/books/shows), and I also seek reassurance from other people that I'm not evil, possessed, or going to Hell (Seay, 2011).
I've seen some other compulsive behaviors mentioned that I don't experience, like balancing the bad thoughts out with a "good" thought to neutralize it, repeating tasks because you had a "bad" thought while you were doing whatever the task was, so you have to do it over with a "good" thought, and reviewing your life to gain certainty of a memory in which you did "bad" things. I'm sure there is more, but this is the extent of my research at this point (Seay, 2011).
My obsessions are all related to religion, but that isn't the only Pure O obsession out there. Some other obsessions that I've read about include self harm or harming others, inappropriate or violent sexual thoughts, doubt about one's sexual orientation, and relationship doubt. These are the most common types of obsessions, but I'm sure there are more that I could add to the list (Wochner, 2012).
OCD is an anxiety disorder that results from a chemical problem in my brain. It doesn't sound so scary when I say it like that. Pure O is treatable, just like the form of OCD that everyone is familiar with. Pure O doesn't seem so scary now that I figured out that I can recover from it and actually be my "normal" again. Since I've figured this out, I don't have to carry all that shame around and hide it from people, because I know it's only the Pure O and not actually me (me = the rational Megan that exists when I'm not anxious or panicking).
I'll end with this: If something I've written about sounds familiar, maybe you should think about talking to a professional. Pure O, like all the other types of anxiety disorders, is treatable. You don't have to suffer in silence. If you're having intrusive thoughts, remember this: those thoughts don't mean anything, except that you have an anxiety issue caused by chemicals in your brain. If you're like me, and you're carrying all that guilt and shame because of all the "bad" thoughts rolling around in your head, you have nothing to feel ashamed of or guilty about because you can't control your brain chemistry.
Sources for the information in this post:
Seay, S. (2011, August 1). Pure-O OCD (Pure Obsessional OCD): Hidden Rituals. Retrieved September 30, 2015, from http://www.steveseay.com/pure-o-ocd-pure-obsessional-ocd/
Wochner, S. (2012). Pure Obsessional OCD-Symptoms and Treatment. Social Work Today, 12(4), 22-22. Retrieved September 30, 2015, from https://www.socialworktoday.com/archive/070212p22.shtml
Pure O is a subtype of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder that seems to be a fairly new area of research from what I've been reading. Almost all the obsessive and compulsive parts take place inside a person's head, so that they might show very few (if any) behavioral compulsions that other people can see. Hence, the not-so-accurate name "Pure O", because other people, including a mental health professional, can't see the person performing the compulsions. That's why Pure O is often misdiagnosed as another anxiety disorder like Generalized Anxiety Disorder or, in my case, Panic Disorder (Wochner, 2012).
The compulsions are still present in Pure O, but they are actually mental rituals instead of observable behaviors. Some of the compulsive things I've noticed in myself include trying to figure out why I have the intrusive thoughts that I have, trying to forcefully control the thought, questioning my morality, repeating certain words and phrases in my head (like, "Please, God," over and over), excessively praying for forgiveness (because I'm sure I've sinned and can't remember it), overanalyzing my body language and behavior so I appear as normal as possible to everyone around (so no one can guess what's going on inside my mind), avoiding people/places/situations that make the obsessions and intrusive thoughts worse (I avoid movies about demonic possession and apocalyptic themed movies/books/shows), and I also seek reassurance from other people that I'm not evil, possessed, or going to Hell (Seay, 2011).
I've seen some other compulsive behaviors mentioned that I don't experience, like balancing the bad thoughts out with a "good" thought to neutralize it, repeating tasks because you had a "bad" thought while you were doing whatever the task was, so you have to do it over with a "good" thought, and reviewing your life to gain certainty of a memory in which you did "bad" things. I'm sure there is more, but this is the extent of my research at this point (Seay, 2011).
My obsessions are all related to religion, but that isn't the only Pure O obsession out there. Some other obsessions that I've read about include self harm or harming others, inappropriate or violent sexual thoughts, doubt about one's sexual orientation, and relationship doubt. These are the most common types of obsessions, but I'm sure there are more that I could add to the list (Wochner, 2012).
OCD is an anxiety disorder that results from a chemical problem in my brain. It doesn't sound so scary when I say it like that. Pure O is treatable, just like the form of OCD that everyone is familiar with. Pure O doesn't seem so scary now that I figured out that I can recover from it and actually be my "normal" again. Since I've figured this out, I don't have to carry all that shame around and hide it from people, because I know it's only the Pure O and not actually me (me = the rational Megan that exists when I'm not anxious or panicking).
I'll end with this: If something I've written about sounds familiar, maybe you should think about talking to a professional. Pure O, like all the other types of anxiety disorders, is treatable. You don't have to suffer in silence. If you're having intrusive thoughts, remember this: those thoughts don't mean anything, except that you have an anxiety issue caused by chemicals in your brain. If you're like me, and you're carrying all that guilt and shame because of all the "bad" thoughts rolling around in your head, you have nothing to feel ashamed of or guilty about because you can't control your brain chemistry.
Sources for the information in this post:
Seay, S. (2011, August 1). Pure-O OCD (Pure Obsessional OCD): Hidden Rituals. Retrieved September 30, 2015, from http://www.steveseay.com/pure-o-ocd-pure-obsessional-ocd/
Wochner, S. (2012). Pure Obsessional OCD-Symptoms and Treatment. Social Work Today, 12(4), 22-22. Retrieved September 30, 2015, from https://www.socialworktoday.com/archive/070212p22.shtml
Wednesday, October 7, 2015
The Road to Diagnosis
The road to getting a correct diagnosis and getting the right kind of help for your mental health issue isn't always smooth, and it can feel overwhelming and scary if you don't know what to expect. It takes courage to make the decision to seek professional help when it comes to mental health. After I decided I needed to seek help, it took me a nearly a week to even call the counseling service because I was still afraid. I was afraid of the treatment process. I was afraid of being judged by everyone if they knew I needed counseling. I was afraid the therapist couldn't help me. I was even afraid of being institutionalized. (That last one is just one of my personal fears, and I knew it was unlikely). It's okay to feel scared and overwhelmed, just please, don't let fear keep you from asking for help, like it did with me for almost a decade.
After you make the big decision comes the next step: getting a CORRECT diagnosis. I made an appointment for the same day I called the counseling service. I talked to a Licensed Clinical Social Worker. She just wanted to know about my symptoms and my family history. I told her about the intrusive thoughts, the shame and extreme guilt, and the panic attacks. She didn't mention the words crazy or insane because those words are not a diagnosis, and a counselor is only concerned with a clinical diagnosis so you can receive treatment.
I left the center with a diagnosis of Panic Disorder, which I mentioned in my first post, and a large packet of information on Panic Disorder. I also left with appointments for counseling and medication. I read the packet of information twice on Panic Disorder. The second time I read the packet, (almost 3 months in to therapy), I realized that Panic Disorder wasn't explaining all of my symptoms. I kept feeling like something else was going on. I talked to my mom and my counselor about it. I even did research on my own because I thought I might just be working myself up for no reason, and I took my research to my therapist.
I had been misdiagnosed. That was why the medication and the therapy weren't helping. As of October 2015, my therapist changed my primary diagnosis from Panic Disorder to Purely Obsessional Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, also referred to as Pure O. I got a new treatment plan, and we talked about different medication specifically for OCD, if I wanted to try medication at any point during my treatment. I chose not to try medication right now, but I'm open to the idea of medication if that's what I need to get better.
The reason for my misdiagnosis is simple: a communication error. My counselor didn't ask the right questions, and she took responsibility for that. I also didn't volunteer other relevant information, like the fact that my management techniques for my intrusive thoughts and the resulting anxiety were actually mental compulsions (because I had no idea). I took responsibility for that. I haven't been getting better at managing the intrusive thoughts at all, and being treated for the wrong thing made the Pure O worse. I didn't know that Pure O even existed until this month, and I was a psychology major in college.
I'll end with this: There is no shame in seeking professional help for mental health, even if that help includes medication. If you have the ability to see a counselor, make sure you tell them everything, no matter if you think it is relevant or not. If you have questions or concerns don't be afraid to voice them to the professional because helping you understand is part of their job.
After you make the big decision comes the next step: getting a CORRECT diagnosis. I made an appointment for the same day I called the counseling service. I talked to a Licensed Clinical Social Worker. She just wanted to know about my symptoms and my family history. I told her about the intrusive thoughts, the shame and extreme guilt, and the panic attacks. She didn't mention the words crazy or insane because those words are not a diagnosis, and a counselor is only concerned with a clinical diagnosis so you can receive treatment.
I left the center with a diagnosis of Panic Disorder, which I mentioned in my first post, and a large packet of information on Panic Disorder. I also left with appointments for counseling and medication. I read the packet of information twice on Panic Disorder. The second time I read the packet, (almost 3 months in to therapy), I realized that Panic Disorder wasn't explaining all of my symptoms. I kept feeling like something else was going on. I talked to my mom and my counselor about it. I even did research on my own because I thought I might just be working myself up for no reason, and I took my research to my therapist.
I had been misdiagnosed. That was why the medication and the therapy weren't helping. As of October 2015, my therapist changed my primary diagnosis from Panic Disorder to Purely Obsessional Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, also referred to as Pure O. I got a new treatment plan, and we talked about different medication specifically for OCD, if I wanted to try medication at any point during my treatment. I chose not to try medication right now, but I'm open to the idea of medication if that's what I need to get better.
The reason for my misdiagnosis is simple: a communication error. My counselor didn't ask the right questions, and she took responsibility for that. I also didn't volunteer other relevant information, like the fact that my management techniques for my intrusive thoughts and the resulting anxiety were actually mental compulsions (because I had no idea). I took responsibility for that. I haven't been getting better at managing the intrusive thoughts at all, and being treated for the wrong thing made the Pure O worse. I didn't know that Pure O even existed until this month, and I was a psychology major in college.
I'll end with this: There is no shame in seeking professional help for mental health, even if that help includes medication. If you have the ability to see a counselor, make sure you tell them everything, no matter if you think it is relevant or not. If you have questions or concerns don't be afraid to voice them to the professional because helping you understand is part of their job.
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