Be Yourself

HAWMC Day 3:  Quotation Inspiration. Find a quote that inspires you (either positively or negatively) and free write  about it for 15 minutes.

I love quotes. Inspiring ones, silly ones, smartassy ones. But if I had to pick just one, it would be this incredibly simple one by Charles M Schultz.

"Be Yourself. No one can say you're doing it wrong." 

Why? Well, quite frankly, I'm different. I always have been. I grew up knowing I was different, though not knowing how. Occasionally it bothered me. Most of the time I didn't think much of it. But as I got older, I thought more and more of it. I realized how different I was in so many ways. And the more I noticed it, the more it bothered me. I asked myself why I was so different. For all that I knew it, I couldn't really place my finger on it. The more this eluded me, the more angst it caused me. It was a self-perpetuating cycle. One that threw me occasionally into pretty dark places. 

As my condition started to become more evident to those around me (it was always evident on some level to me), they noticed it to. I faced a lot of "Why can't you just be normal" comments. A lot of, "Normal people aren't like that. Normal people don't think that way or feel that way or act that way. You're (crazy/delusional/irrational/pick you're stigmatizing descriptive). For a long time, even after I was diagnosed, I tried to defend myself, telling they were wrong, I was normal, even with this illness. I tried to explain my words, feelings, actions and why people should find them acceptable.  I tried and tried to justify them to people who didn't want to hear it. People who'd already passed judgement on me for one reason or another. I watched it in numerous aspects of my life and I rallied against it time and again. And then finally, I stopped. 

I'm not sure exactly when or how it happened. But one day, I realized I was able to take a less negatively biased look at myself and my life. I thought about the people who told me that my blogging and advocacy inspired them and made them feel supported. I thought about the friends who laughed at my quirky humor and awkward but apparently endearing antics. I replayed all the conversations I'd had with others close to me in which we could completely relate to each other, in which I realized what they liked about my was my differences. And I stopped caring so much. The veneer of needing to fit into a mold began to crack.

I won't be so brave as to say I never care. I won't claim that I absolutely love having a mental health condition and I'd never, ever hope to be "normal." Because quite honestly that's BS. At least as it relates to me. There are times that I wish I reacted to individual situations more normally. Like not feeling like I'm going to piss my pants out of fear every time I have to interact in a group setting. Or not breaking down crying out of nowhere in the middle of walking my dog or watching tv or cooking dinner. Or not having an anxiety attack while parallel parking, as I posted about the other day. There are times that it is still maddeningly frustrating when a way of looking at something is so obvious to me, and yet the person I'm talking to can't possibly see it. It's like me pointing at the sky and saying "It's blue," and them saying "No it's bright green. Why can't you see that?" Because life does feel that way sometimes. 

But I've learned to embrace my differences more fully. I've learned that I'm a creative person, and that I often express myself best through writing or vision boarding or dance or even just doodling (because what I do could not possibly be considered drawing or art - not even modern art).  I've learned that I see life in pictures, in snapshots instead of in a step by step manner. I can now explain this to people who don't see how I'm approaching a situation. It doesn't always work, but at least I can offer an explanation to bridge some of the gap. I've learned that in the right company, I can share my completely random thoughts and they'll be appreciated (like the recent time I told my boyfriend out of the blue that if our dog had a creative art it would be interpretive dance).  And so I now surround myself with only the right company (when I have any control of the company, that is). 

In the end of the day, I may not have a lot of talents or enviable skill sets. But I've become significantly more comfortable with being myself. And in fact, I've decided that's a pretty valuable skill to have. Because after all, it's one of the very few things in life that you can't do wrong. 

I Write My Best Blogs in the Shower

Day 2 of HAWMC.  Today's prompt:

Every great writer has their own process! What's the blogging process look like for you? Do you set aside time each week to write or do you wait until the inspiration hits? Do you finish a post in one night or use the week to perfect it? Do you edit your blogs or just hit publish? Whatever it is you do, it’s unique to you and we want to learn about it.

Usually, my posts come to me at some incredibly inopportune time - middle of the night, in the shower, while driving, in the middle of a meeting. If I force myself to sit down and write without any type of prompt or motivation, it ends up the blog equivalent of a bad stick figure drawing (if you've ever seen me draw a stick figure you understand how just bad that is). So when inspiration strikes, I write it down, anywhere and anyhow I can. I have sticky notes by my bed for ideas that come to me in the middle of the night (though admittedly those notes are sometimes illegible in the morning). I have a list of potential blog topics on Evernote. I have notepads on my desk, in my laptop bag. If I'm traveling, I often carry a mini notepad in my purse, to jot down ideas on the road. If my laptop is handy when an idea comes to me and I have only a few minutes, I'll open up my blog and jot down just a few lines to start a post, knowing I'll have to come back to it later but wanting to get the ball rolling.

"Action shot" of me writing (future blog) at 5:30 AM last Saturday

In cases such as HAWMC, where I have prompts, it's a bit easier. I don't have to "come up with content out of thin air", so to speak. But because my blog is so emotionally fueled and focused, and because my emotions can be so unreliable, I can't just force myself to write at a set time on a set day without fail.  (Disclaimer: sometimes I write several of these challenge posts at once when I'm feeling motivated. I call that "finding creative solutions.")  I do try to set aside times to write each week, but those are pretty flexible and vary from week to week. They have to be, because I might literally not be in the mood to write at the set time. 

On the flip side, there are times that I could write for hours, particularly during intense emotional cycles. I occasionally try to share what it's like in the middle of a hypomanic episode or bad bout of depression, because I feel it's the closest way for people to actually understand what I'm battling. They may not have experienced it themselves, but me writing when I'm in the throws of it, it's kind of the writer's equivalent to Facebook live or Periscope or whatever your preferred "live" medium may be.  The nature of my cycling is such that, once I cycle out, it almost feels like it happened ages ago, and I find it significantly more difficult to describe in depth. It feels like I'm telling a story, instead of a personal account. If I write during, I'm much better able to explain in detail, in a way people can visualize, even possibly feel. That said, if I know I'm in a really, really bad state, I try to give it a day or so before I post. I don't want to raise any cause for alarm, if none is actually needed. 

Despite my lack of any real plan, there are few rules that I try to set for myself: 

• Proofread. I sometimes type (and talk) faster than my brain fully computes. If I don't proofread, there could be a lot of jumbled up mess in my posts. Or rather, more than there already is. 

• Don't post ragingly angry. Post kind of angry, but not ragingly so, especially if the anger is primarily directed at one person or situation. Anger is an important part of mental health and not one a lot of people like to talk about. So I think it's important to post from that viewpoint so that, as described above, people get a "real time" insight. I also know, though, that my anger can be fueled by anxiety, panic, and hypomania, and that this multiplies it, making me significantly more upset about things than I otherwise would be. I don't want to emotionally hurt anyone by letting this take over in a blog post, so even if I write, I try to hold off and see if I still feel that way a little while later, or if I've "simmered down" a bit. I've written a lot of drafts that, if posted, would have resulted in some serious foot-in-mouth syndrome later on.  And if I am angry, I never, ever mention personal names (assuming it's someone in my personal life I'm angry at). Ever. 

• Don't overthink it. I proofread, and I make sure any facts that I've stated as facts are as accurate and updated as possible, but I try not to re-read sentences for hours, wondering if it sounds ok, if it makes perfect sense, what everyone will think of it, etc. As long as it's somewhat sensical, and it's not going to lose me friends or my job, it doesn't have to sound perfect. My brain is a beautifully, weirdly, messy place. My blog reflects that. Intentionally. 

• I post for me, but I hope that it helps others. Writing in general, and therefore blogging, is therapeutic to me. I was always a writer. As a child, adolescent, teen, young adult, I journaled. I still do (on pen and paper, in addition to my blog). So sometimes, I write just to "get things out". Sometimes, I end up not posting those pieces. Just writing it has done it's job, and I realize I don't want to, for whatever reason, post those. But when I feel that others may go through the same thing, that it could help them or inspire them in some way or simply let them know that they're not alone, I post. So I write for me, but I do so in hopes that it will also help others. 

These are by no means a "recipe" for writing a mental health or chronic illness or any blog. In fact, I pretty much spent the last x number of paragraphs saying, "I really don't have a process, I just throw spaghetti at the wall and see if it sticks." But I guess that's kind of the point. I have my ways that work for me, but they're fluid. And you may have a great process that works for you. But if you don't, that's ok too. If you want to write, write. There's no perfect formula. That's the beauty of a personal blog - it's as unique as of each us, our conditions, and our journeys. My stickies in the middle of the night and mentally writing blogs in the shower is what works for me - and I'm completely ok with that. And when you find what works for you, run with it, even if it's equally as weird a process. 

What Does Mental Health Acceptance Look Like?

Today is World Mental Health Day. It's one of the few days each year where even those who are not specifically mental health or chronic illness advocates seem to be interested in the subject. My guess is mostly because the hashtag is trending on twitter, and people who may not normally see posts about mental health do. I'm kidding, but only partly (it really was trending). Whatever the reason, it makes me happy and proud to see such a large group of people speaking out, or at least following along with the discussion, liking posts and retreating tweets, and what have you.

Needless to say, every day is mental health day for me, and for everyone else who makes up the twenty five percent of the US population that battles a mental heath condition. That's right, approximately one quarter of people in the US. One third when including addictive disorders. Which may seem startling in itself. What's even more incredible is that despite this glaring number, society at large likes to pretend it isn't an actual illness, scraping the subject under the carpet, only to pull it out when they need an easy scapegoat for some sort of tragedy. As those of us who advocate increase in number, refusing to be pushed down and quieted, we are making headway. Still, we have a long way to go before mental health is truly accepted.

So, what does that mean, mental health acceptance? To me, acceptance is:

• When you understand that it is a medical condition, in an organ, that just happens to be the brain. Just like any other chronic, physical condition, that affects a particular organ or system.

• When we no longer have to explain why it is not "all in our heads", no longer told to just be more positive, look on the bright side, adjust our attitude, be more grateful, and we'd be better. 

• When we can take a sick day for our condition just as someone with asthma or diabetes or heart disease would, without any overt or subtle backlash. 

• When our conditions are covered by insurance companies and other healthcare providers just as physical conditions are. 

• When our veterans suffering from PTSD get the care they deserve. 

• When we can openly tell people about our illness without sideways glances, backing away, awkward pauses. 

• When you see us as a person, an individual, and not our condition. 

• When you realize that not everything we do or say is because of our condition. We are entitled to emotions just like everyone else.  

• When you stop thinking that we'd be better if we were "normal". 

• When people understand that we are 10 times more likely to be VICTIMS of violent crime, not perpetrators.

• When you understand that (hypo)mania, panic attacks and anxiety are serious, and not us  being "dramatic". 

• When you realize we didn't choose our conditions, just you did not choose asthma or diabetes or cancer. 

• When you understand that it is a depressive episode, and not us being lazy.

• When we don't have to explain that we aren't being rude or boring, we have social anxiety. 

• When you stop trying to shame us for taking medications that save our lives. 

• When you are as willing to help someone in a mental health crisis as you are in a physical health crisis. 

• When you realize that depression can be a fatal illness. 

• When people are no longer afraid to speak out about a loved ones suicide, or seek help for their own suicidal feelings. 

• When we stop having to pretend we aren't sick because it makes you uncomfortable. 

• When you call us strong for living every day of our lives with this illness, instead of crazy. 

That is mental health acceptance. 

What Does Mental Health Acceptance Look Like?

Today is World Mental Health Day. It's one of the few days each year where even those who are not specifically mental health or chronic illness advocates seem to be interested in the subject. My guess is mostly because the hashtag is trending on twitter, and people who may not normally see posts about mental health do. I'm kidding, but only partly (it really was trending). Whatever the reason, it makes me happy and proud to see such a large group of people speaking out, or at least following along with the discussion, liking posts and retreating tweets, and what have you.

Needless to say, every day is mental health day for me, and for everyone else who makes up the twenty five percent of the US population that battles a mental heath condition. That's right, approximately one quarter of people in the US. One third when including addictive disorders. Which may seem startling in itself. What's even more incredible is that despite this glaring number, society at large likes to pretend it is an actual illness, scraping the subject under the carpet, only to pull it out when they need an easy scapegoat for some sort of tragedy. As those of us who advocate increase in number, refusing to be pushed down and quieted, we are making headway. Still, we have a long way to go before mental health is truly accepted.

So, what does that mean, mental health acceptance? To me, acceptance is:

• When you understand that it is a medical condition, in an organ, that just happens to be the brain. Just like any other chronic, physical condition, that affects a particular organ or system.

• When we no longer have to explain why it is not "all in our heads", no longer told to just be more positive, look on the bright side, adjust our attitude, be more grateful, and we'd be better. 

• When we can take a sick day for our condition just as someone with asthma or diabetes or heart disease would, without any overt or subtle backlash. 

• When our conditions are covered by insurance companies and other healthcare providers just as physical conditions are. 

• When our veterans suffering from PTSD get the care they deserve. 

• When we can openly tell people about our illness without sideways glances, backing away, awkward pauses. 

• When you see us as a person, an individual, and not our condition. 

• When you realize that not everything we do or say is because of our condition. We are entitled to emotions just like everyone else.  

• When you stop thinking that we'd be better if we were "normal". 

• When people understand that we are 10 times more likely to be VICTIMS of violent crime, not perpetrators.

• When you understand that (hypo)mania, panic attacks and anxiety are serious, and not us  being "dramatic". 

• When you realize we didn't choose our conditions, just you did not choose asthma or diabetes or cancer. 

• When you understand that it is a depressive episode, and not us being lazy.

• When we don't have to explain that we aren't being rude or boring, we have social anxiety. 

• When you stop trying to shame us for taking medications that save our lives. 

• When you are as willing to help someone in a mental health crisis as you are in a physical health crisis. 

• When you realize that depression can be a fatal illness. 

• When people are no longer afraid to speak out about a loved ones suicide, or seek help for their own suicidal feelings. 

• When we stop having to pretend we aren't sick because it makes you uncomfortable. 

• When you call us strong for living every day of our lives with this illness, instead of crazy. 

That is mental health acceptance. 

The Mental Health Advocate's Gratitude List

Lists of gratitude are almost obligatory at this time of year. And naturally, I am thankful for family, friends, pets, roof over my head, my job, and all these standard things like the majority of the population. But as a mental health advocate, I have a few "gratitude items" that may be a bit unconventional, and I'm guessing a good number of chronic/invisible illness advocates can relate.

I am thankful for...

• Supportive friends and family, who have not given up on me, even in those moments when I want to give up on myself. 

• Grace, and Cinn, despite the fact that Cinn's no longer with me in body. Pets are some of the best (and most cuddly) form of therapy. Truly. They listen non-judgementally and love unconditionally and sometimes, that's exactly what I need. 

• Meds. These are lifesavers, literally. They have their downsides, but man am I grateful to found ones that work for me. 

• My therapist. She's priceless (not really she charges $175 per session, but it feels like she's priceless because she's worth every penny). 

• The spoonie community. You rock. You are the strongest bunch of badasses I have ever met, personally or virtually, in my life. Each and every one of you. Whether it's mental health or another chronic illness, I'm inspired to know you. Thank you, thank you, thank you, for wecloming me into your community. (If unfamiliar with the term spoonie...).

• My mood disorders support group on FB: I can often talk to you when I can talk to nobody else. You show me that I am not "crazy", as I sometimes feel, that I am human, and lovable, and worth it. 

• AFSP: Not only have I been able to participate in the Out Of Darkness Overnight Walk the past two years, but it has given me the opportunity to become involved in the local chapter, and to meet some amazing people in the region who are also dedicated AFSP and their mission of suicide prevention. It has, on my toughest days, reminded me why I persevere and keep going. 

• Life and hope: Every 12.8 minutes someone in the U.S. dies from suicide. So many people have lost their battle with mental health, and anyone who says depression or mood cycling is not fatal could not be more wrong. No matter how awful a time I might be going through, I am alive. 

To all of you who get me through the days, weeks, months, years, who stand by me in the worst of times, and celebrate with me in the best of times, I am so thankful for you all! Keep doing what you're doing. You are truly amazing.