Loving The Curves You Have, Or Don't

I haven't written much here about my prior body image struggles. While I was never directly diagnosed, I was more or less told by my therapist that I had Body Dismorphic Disorder, or BDD, which contributed to some pretty bad eating issues. With the help of therapy and loved ones, I recovered, and quite well I might say, but I still occassionally get flashes of insecurity surrounding my body, especially when surrounded by those who are in better shape than myself.

If you're unfamiliar with BDD, in a nutshell it means that you physically see your body differently than it is. It's not vanity or superficiality. It's an actual distortion. Imagine looking at yourself in a fun house mirror. Now obviously it's not distorted in those same proportions (I think that even for those with BDD, if our nose looked five times the size of our hand we'd realize that the image wasn't entirely accurate). But we look different to ourselves, and notably so, than we do to others. It can cause almost antisocial behavior for fear of others seeing our flaws. Now to clarify, I think many of us are our own worst critics, and sadly I think that's particularly true of women. And perhaps it's true that the majority of people don't see their own beauty the way their friends and loved ones do. But for those with BDD, it goes beyond being tough on yourself. It's a physical and mental contortion of body image that's downright dangerous.

Recently I was in a situation in which I felt a twinge of my former insecurity return. In the presence of someone who is technically in much better shape than I am, and in a situation in which I really felt I needed and wanted to look my absolute best, I felt inferior. Briefly, I let it get to me. I momentarily scolded myself that the workouts I'd been doing clearly weren't enough, and ridiculed myself for the way I've been eating (admittedly I genuinely could be eating healthier). But then I took a good long look at the other person and you know what? I don't give a flying f*ck what other people think about how she looks. I look better. And you know why? Because I'm real. I'm not perfect, nor am I spending massive amounts of time trying to be. I am muscular enough - sometimes to my detriment when it comes to dresses with zippers up the back (athletic ladies you know what I'm talking about). I have maybe a two pack, four pack on a good day. I'll never have a six pack unless it involves craft beer because I have a weirdly high belly button and gives my ab area a funny shape. I'm short. That's genetics - I'm 5'0 and one of the tallest women in my family. Not much I can do about that and I'm not going to break my ankles in stilettos because... why should I? I have curves. Particularly extra on the lower half of my body and not quite enough on the upper half, but enough that I clearly am curvy. The thing is, women's body's weren't made to look as muscular as a mans with few curves. We have hips for bearing children, for those who would like to. We have breasts for feeding those children, for those who choose to go that route. And when I have a child/children one day... well I certainly won't be any closer to looking like perfection. Because, while I'll try to keep healthy and exercise regularly, I'm not going to have the time to spend hours a day trying to look like I'm on the red carpet. I'll be too busy spending time with my family. Making memories that don't involve a treadmill or a weight stack or some horribly unhealthy fitness/diet trend that people swear by that I won't even get started on.

Now, I'm all about being healthy and having fitness goals. Whether you play a sport or run marathons or do zumba in your living room, as long as it's a HEALTHY lifestyle, then I say go for it. And if your body isn't curvy, or your goal is to bulk up, then that's fine too. You don't have to look like me just as I don't have to look like you. You can love your body as much as I love mine. Because it's yours, you've worked hard for it, and it's perfect for YOU.  Trying to (metaphorically) wear someone else's body because you think that's what people like is like trying to wear a pair of shoes that everyone's gushing over but are two sizes off. They might be perfect for them, but clearly don't fit you, and eventually you'll probably end up hurting yourself. 

A letter to women: Self-Esteem, Social Media, Attention Seeking Behavior

Dear women suffering from low self-esteem who constantly need attention,
I know what it's like to have low self esteem. I've been there. Truly. Most of my life. And let me tell you, it sucks. It sucks to feel like everyone is smarter, prettier, more successful. It sucks to take every cancelled plan or bad date or rough day at work as a sign that you're not good enough and you'll be alone forever. It sucks that no matter what you try, it doesn't seem to make you feel better for long. It sucks that nobody understands. I know this. And it makes me so sad that you feel that way.

I also know that we aren't all playing with the same deck. I am in no way an "everyone should be able to pull themselves up by their bootstraps because I could do it, or because "Mary Smith" (random name) over there could do it." That would assume we're all the exactly alike so should be able to handle everything precisely the same way. Our low self esteem can be the result of a great many circumstances, and even if the circumstances were identical our personalities and our DNA are not. So it's probably impossible for me to give you some sort of formula that will absolutely work.

But I can tell you this:  no amount of pretending, no amount of material and superficial things, no amount of attention from others, is going to help your self esteem in the long run. Because ultimately, low self-esteem is our own vision of who we are at the core, unfairly distorted, through no fault of our own, by life experiences or genetics or abuse or some combination of circumstances that doesn't allow us to see ourselves as we truly are. All of those superficial pieces -what we have, what others say about us - are just the external pieces that we see as affirming our internal feelings of ourselves. They're a self-fulfilling prophecy. The more you listen to them, the worse you'll feel, the more you'll see them, and it goes on and on. Now I'll admit, I'm the first person to change my hairstyle or my wardrobe when I feel like I need to get the current of life moving in a more positive direction. But that's because I know it's within me to continue that movement. I might desire a fun jump start, but I don't truly believe a new hair style is going to fix my problems or make me better, more likable, more successful. Nor does it matter if every one of my Facebook friends makes positive comments on my profile picture with said new hairstyle. Because if their affirmations "make me beautiful", their criticisms can just as easily plunge me downwards. It gives them control over my emotions instead of me. Why would I want that?

So please excuse me well I tell you something you probably don't want to hear: no amount of external praise or social media likes or retweets or shares in which you tag your boyfriend/girlfriend/favorite favorite friend of preferred gender(s) to make your presence known on his page daily is going to make you feel better about yourself. Even if he likes and comments on every f'ing one of them.  This isn't to say that you shouldn't share your successes or your great new look, or that you shouldn't tag friends in something that you legitimately think they'll enjoy. But before you do so, ask yourself this. If a day, a week, a month from now, nobody's liked or commented on that selfie, if you've posted a picture saying how fat or ugly you are and nobody's reassured you you're not, if said targeted person above doesn't profess grandly how great every one of your posts on his wall is, will you care? Be brutally honest with yourself.  Will it piss you the *$& off? Will you complain to your friends "I don't get it, suddenly he/she isn't liking or commenting on my posts"? If you don't will you secretly want to? Don't judge - there's no right or wrong here - but be honest. If others' affirmations or lack thereof influence it, don't post it. Because you've just handed them that power. It goes the same for what you wear, your hairstyle, etc. If you're doing it for them, don't. It will hurt you in the end. Because there's always some dissenter out there. Always.

I know this is difficult to hear for several reasons. First off, it can be tough to acknowledge that you have low self-esteem. Furthermore, nobody wants to discover, or admit, that they're attention seeking. And I know that you want to try to control external factors that make you feel better, because you feel no control over how you feel about yourself internally But it doesn't work in the long run if you're truly suffering from consistent low self-esteem. The only thing that will help you feel more control over your self-esteem is to be honest with everyone, and most importantly yourself, about who you are. Nothing diminishes self-esteem further than trying to be someone you are not. Eventually, you feel hollow, and hollow does not lead to feeling positive about yourself. I speak from experience. Things might get worse, externally, before they get better. I won't lie and say that being open about every bit of who I am, including my mental health condition, was a cake walk. But when things get better internally it matters less what people think externally.

So go ahead and post pictures of your abs or your new haircut. But don't pretend you don't think you look good. If you really don't, then by all means don't give others the opportunity to shoot you down emotionally after you've worked so hard to come up. But if you do, own it. Be proud. Is it everyone's top choice to see pictures of your abs? No, assuredly not. But so what? Maybe it's not your top choice to see pictures of the meal or their dog or their kid. It doesn't stop them. And the physical and virtual clinging to your boyfriend/girlfriend/favorite friend? You'll need that less too. Because the better you feel about yourself, the less you care about people who will only pay you attention if you practically give them no choice. And you deserve so much better than that. Confident people don't want to look desperate. And when you get like that, you do. I'm sorry. We all can see it.

So please, from the bottom of my heart, look inward. If you need to discuss your self-esteem issues, talk to a trusted friend or find a support group. Hell, I've been there, talk to me. I don't care if I know you or not - I help people I don't know in person through mental health struggles all the time, because I truly want to help. If you have to, speak to a professional. But don't speak to those people who will only notice if you continually throw yourself in front of them either on or offline, striving for their attention. Quite simply, once you are able to focus on your own positive opinion of yourself, you won't need theirs.

That Won't Happen To Me - Continued Indifference to Mental Health

I've been thinking more than usual lately about the advocacy and fundraising work I do in mental health, the degree to which my efforts struggle to make headway, even within my close circles. I'll be honest, I get incredibly frustrated when people I consider close won't sign up for, or even read, my blog. I get equally as annoyed when I make countless attempts, practically begging these same people, to donate even one dollar to my Out of Darkness Overnight Walk for Suicide Prevention.  Especially when they turn around and ask me to support their charity event or, better yet, spend 50 times that amount on a "all you can drink" cheap beer drinking event that following weekend, touting it as a great deal. Sometimes, it physically hurts my heart to feel ignored this way. After a significant thinking, I've come to the only conclusion that makes any sense: those people don't care.

I need to clarify. For years, and until recently, I took it highly personally. Which is to say that I thought to myself, "These people must not be real friends. They don't want to help me out. They don't care about me." But now, I don't believe that's entirely true. What I believe is, they don't care about the cause. I'm not trying to make them sound cold-hearted. The bottom line is, mental health is something that, unless you struggle with it or have actively watched someone do so (not as in "know they have it" but physically watched them in the midst of battling it acutely), it's not something that people think affects them. It seems like some sort of foreign world that they can't fathom, completely out of reach.  In part, this is a mindset. People don't want to understand. Because if they understand, they feel closer to mental illness, and they don't want to be lumped in with those "crazy people".  It's an us and them mentality, and not one that I believe is always a conscious decision. People think, "I would never take my own life; I can't imagine that." "I never get anxious or depressed like she does." "I'm laid back and chill, I don't swing between moods like she does." People who haven't experienced it truly cannot understand that mental health conditions can affect anyone - between one quarter and one third of the U.S. population, to be exact. Illnesses such as cancer and heart disease are more tangible illnesses that people can envision getting, maybe even have a family history of, and therefore want to do all they can to support treatment, prevention, and awareness for. But getting diagnosed with a mental health condition "won't ever happen to them". So they see my request and they look the other way, almost instinctually. They don't need to read my blog because it's not about them and won't affect them. They don't need to support the cause, because it's not one that's close to their heart. They don't bother to educate themselves about it because "what's the point?.  

When I look at it this way, the lack of concern and support does still bother me, but not quite so much. In part, I still don't understand it, because I'm the type of person that, if we're close and it's important to you, even if it's not to me, I'll do my best to help you out. If you're asking for $1, and I have the money to buy a beerfest ticket for $50, I'll give you the buck. Probably even five or ten, but at least one. On the flip side, I know that you're not intentionally being hurtful. To you, it's practically like my posts, emails, messages, whatever it may be aren't there. You scroll past it the way I scroll past a recipe for pork chops because I'm a vegetarian and never see the need for such a thing. So I'm trying to learn that it's not intentional. You aren't snubbing me and my hard work for beerfest tickets. You just can't find a way to relate, and when you don't relate to something, it doesn't hit home. And when it doesn't hit home, people don't donate or offer support. It's just another cause asking for money, and you've already donated your fair share to those causes close to your heart. Still, it would be nice if, because I am relatively "close to your heart", based on the fact that we're good friends or blood relations, you could offer some support, even if it were in the form of sharing my posts on your social media to see if it hits closer to home for any of your friends than it does to you.

To all of you who  read, share, post, donate, and otherwise support at every opportunity, thank you for making my efforts, and mental health, a high priority. Thank you for staying away from the "us versus them" mentality. Thank you for realizing that it is a worthy cause, even if it "won't happen to you". Indeed, I hope it that never does. 

The Mental Illness and Pregnancy Debate

I have written previous posts about my personal opinions on my having kids. To put it concisely, my feelings have changed since those posts were written. I was trying to use my brain in the matter, but that never works. I should know this by now. It just took my heart a little time to catch up, and once it did, I realized I could never let my brain talk me out of something so important to me.

I spent two years in a relationship in which I was part of a family. One that wasn't related to me by blood. We did not have our own child, but I was lucky enough that the person I was with had an amazing two year old when we met, and that he trusted me to become almost like a step-parent to the child. (Clarification: the child had two very involved and loving parents already. I was just lucky to be allowed to be involved as well). My "maternal instinct", for lack of a better word, kicked in. I never thought I'd be the type of parent-figure that would get down on the floor and play silly games, make up words, have bubble fights at bath time, live for bedtime stories. But I was. Some of my best moments of the last two years involved silly family car games on road trips (or watch and sing along to Frozen in stereo on repeat for an entire 14 hour drive to Georgia...), racing around the living room playing chase with the dogs, roasting s'mores in the backyard, playing the "guess what I'm afraid of" game. And guess what? I didn't just love it. I was good at it. Me. "Crazy" me. With medications and therapy and genetic conditions that rear their ugly head. That same me. Yes, as part of a team. But I still did it. I was capable. And so, I changed my mind.

Recently, I've been given to thinking about mental health, pregnancy, and parenting (I'm not pregnant people, nobody freak out). I've been thinking about the previous times I wrote that I wouldn't want to put a child through the potential pain of having a mental health condition. Believe me, I still don't. But in giving it serious thought, there's a difference between when I was two years old and today. First, I know I have a condition and that it's genetic. I know the warning signs, and I know to start looking for them early on. I've had my condition since birth. And mental health care is much more prevalent and much less dramatic today. While it's certainly not as openly discussed as something like asthma or diabetes or cancer, it's not something avoided like the plague either. When I was two and dealing with what I know now was hypomania, the doctor said I was allergic to red food dye because I'd had some captain crunch cereal recently. He didn't even think to consider childhood mental health conditions. It wasn't something doctors discussed or brought up at all, let alone suggested treatment for. And with no known history, my family have no way of knowing what it might be. A food allergy would certainly sound more reasonable that a rapid cycling mood disorder in a two year old. But I know my history. I know now it's genetic. I know I will likely pass it on. And I know that no child's life would be worth giving up because of that. This may sound selfish, but consider this: that's like saying someone with a mental health condition would be better off not being born. Like I would be better off not being born. And I refuse to say that. And I refuse to let anyone else say that. And when I had the courage to finally say this out loud, I had a change of heart.

In order to avoid getting too high up on my angry activist horse (not sure that even makes sense but just go with it), I thought that instead of simply yelling about mental health discrimination and prejudice on this topic, as I'm inclined to do, I'd focus instead on the reasons that those with mental health conditions can make exceptional parents.

• We tend to be empathetic, caring, and emotional. I think it's self-explanatory why this is an asset in having a child and raising a family. 

• We often have the "patience of Jove", so to speak. While I don't have patience sitting in traffic, or with ignorance, for that matter, I have a tremendous amount of it when I'm trying to help someone, when they're trying to learn or grow or improve. All of which is ideal for a child learning to sleep through the night, crawl, walk, potty train, etc. 

• We know what it's like to feel like something's absolutely wrong, but not know what, or how to express it. Quite simply put, sometimes my depression literally causes me to cry like a baby. And sometimes my hypomania causes me to sleep like a baby with colic, which is to say, not. I've watched parents screaming at their crying baby yelling "what's wrong with you!" And I want to look at them and say "She's three months old. Do you really expect her to answer that?" Now, I get parental exhaustion (in theory, I've never been there) and I'm sure there are points in which I will feel that way too if I am lucky enough to have a child. But still, I feel I'm well equipped to understand, even if frustrated. 

• I've been different, weird, an outsider. I've been stigmatized against. I've fought the uphill battle standing up for myself and others with similar conditions. I know better than many what happens when someone deals with ignorance and prejudice. Quite honestly, I think I'd be better equipped to deal with a child that's "different", in any way, than most "normal" parents would. 

• I've learned to focus my energy into creativity. I cannot stress enough the value of creativity in the days in which art. music, and cursive writing are being cut from schools, in which playing board games or in the back yard is considered punishment because they don't have an on/off switch and graphics. 

Now, everyone's decision to have kids is their own. I'll admit, going off meds would be scary. For me, and most likely for my partner dealing with me. And I have argued the other side of this coin previously for my personal life and my life only. I still believe that everyone needs to make their own decision for themselves (do you see a pattern here?).  As always, I respect everyone's individual right to know their own condition, their body, and their situation best, and make an educated, informed, decision. I know people who have chronic illness in which having a biological child would put their life at risk, who have decided not to have children, and I wholeheartedly support their decision. Hell I'd support it for any reason, even if someone just decided not to have kids. I do not know what my future holds. But I do know that everyone should have the right to choose what to do with their own body, and how to form their own family. And I will never be ok with others telling me what I should do with mine. 

Closing the Curtain on 2015

2015 was one of the most volatile years of my life, and with me, that's a difficult feat to pull off.  I realize volatile has a negative connotation, and yet I don't entirely mean it that way. Not entirely. There were a multitude of moments over the past 364 days that encouraged me to throw my hands up in the air and say F$%^ this S^&*, and there were times when that's exactly what I did, at least momentarily.

This past year, I lost my dog Cinn, my best friend and companion of 10 years, to a mystery illness that took her life rather suddenly but as peacefully as possible. Heartbroken doesn't come close to describing how I felt, and still feel, over the passing of my precious baby girl.  My personal and living situation changed drastically, which is as much as needs to be said on that topic, since those who need to know the actual details know them.  One of my closest friends died unexpectedly of a heart attack at the age of 38. So if you asked me a couple of months ago how I'd summarize 2015, I probably would have said simply said "good riddance" and walked away. Because while I don't want to dwell on the difficult times, I certainly don't want to relive them.

     

                                          


But about two months ago, life started to shift for me. First and foremost was the conscious change I made in my overall view of life and of myself. Now let me clarify a crucial point: my mood cycling is an illness, NOT a product of a bad attitude. Nor is anyone else's mental health condition a product of theirs. So for those who think "hey, all she needed to do was look at the glass half full", well.... I'd cover your ass if you don't want my foot up it. I still cycle. Plenty. Maybe not as I have in the worst of times, but I do. The difference is that I've started valuing myself a great deal more, and in doing so am taking better care of myself emotionally, mentally, and physically. I'm going to bed earlier; I'm working out more often; I'm trying to eat healthier, albeit not as healthy as I would if it weren't holiday season; I'm doing yoga and meditation consistently (or more consistently). This doesn't by any means prevent cycling fully, but it helps to not encourage my brain to cycle even further. As my brain has cleared a bit, I've been able to see the beauty in my quirks, my differences, and I've begun to love that part of myself more. I've never hoped to be normal or cool (quite frankly those I'd be bored to tears), but there have been times in the past  where I've been persuaded into thinking that those traits that make me unique should be quelled and hidden away. I am no longer allowing that to happen, and as such am, for the first time in ages, comfortable and confident with who I am as a person, faults and all.

Coincidentally, or not, as I've stopped worrying so profusely that my condition is a liability to me and those close to me, my life has taken some positive turns. First, I adopted a new dog, a two year old long-haired brindle mutt named Grace. I thought I'd need just about forever after losing my Cinn, but I realized that she wouldn't want that. She'd want me to give another homeless dog a loving and caring forever home, and when I saw Grace's picture and read her story, I knew she was for me. Not to mention the fact that I happened to learn of a dog named Grace in need of a help on the weekend that the Pope was visiting my city. If I believed in signs, that's as sure of one as I've ever seen. Secondly, we know by now that I don't talk about relationships on here, particularly not current ones, but let's just say that are of my life is one of those positively shifting situations. I feel so incredibly lucky in this particular turn of events. Relationships have historically been quite... um... rough for me. For possibly the first time, I'm not trying to change myself for somebody else. If you've ever attempted to change greatly for someone, you know it's a recipe for disaster in so many ways, and it's incredibly refreshing to just be me. (Clarification here: this is not to blame anyone from my past, it's that I'm glad that I have the confidence to not feel the need to be anyone but myself). Moving along, I'm under contract to buy a condo in the city. After 8 years of renting, I decided to finally take the plunge back into home ownership. I haven't said much on this as there are still some things to iron out, but I'm crossing my fingers that if everything goes well, I'll be closing at the end of February.

So my summary of 2015: It took me on quite a ride both literally (I traveled to Morocco, Portugal, and Mexico this year), and figuratively. I would not want to relive the downs, most notably because of how painful they were to others involved, and because they included the passing of loved ones - who'd want to relive that? And I can't even say that the ups balanced the downs, because as amazing as the positives are, that feels like putting a price on someone or something's life which, needless to say, I could never do. What I can say is that I am excited to ring in 2016, and I look forward to the possibilities that it holds. I am sure that, like every other year, it will includes ups and downs - that's my condition, and quite simply, that's life. I certainly hope the downs of the upcoming year aren't as severe as those of the outgoing year. For my part, the best I can do is continue to value and take care of myself and those who love and support me, and to use continue to work to help others, paying it back or paying it forward, as so many have done for me over the years when I needed it most.

Happy New Year, all! See you in 2016! 

"Helpful" Things People Say That Only Make It Worse

I'm going to preface this with saying that I understand that these words and phrases are almost always said in an attempt to be helpful. I get that people utter these when they want to say something, but really have no idea what they should be saying or doing. Which can happen for a number of reasons - they've never felt the way you do so they can't empathize; they're bad at expressing their emotions; they really don't have time to talk but want to say something "consoling". These are just a few of the potential scenarios. And truly, we appreciate the effort. But because this post is written in an effort to educate and to help people better understand,  I'm attempting to clarify what these actually sound like to those of us suffering. When you say these things, we may shut down, and you don't understand why because you're doing all you can think of. That, in turn, might hurt you. That's the last thing we want.  I'm sure there are plenty more examples. I'll provide my top. And please, don't feel bad if you've said these to me, or anyone else. Virtually everyone has.

• Bummer. Bummer is for "I've stubbed my toe and it wore of my fresh coat of toenail polish." Bummer is not for "I'm in a terrible depressive episode and don't want to move from the bed." It minimalizes and trivializes what we're battling, however unintentionally. 

• "Sorry, girl". (Assuming you're an adult female. The equivalent would be dude or bro for a man, I suppose.).  I don't know why this drives me up the freakin' wall, and I feel bad that it does, but it does. Partly, we know how I feel about the use of girl for women. It makes it sound like it's a little kid's problem. Partly, it just sounds cliche. If you can replace what you've just said with an emoji, it probably doesn't help a ton when we're having a terrible time. If you truly feel bad, say something to the effect of "I'm really sorry to hear that you're going through this." 

• "If I was there I would .. hang out/come over/participate in/etc..." . I understand that it's supposed to be the thought that counts. And most of the time it is. But when I have spent a week curled up in the house with depression, desperately need to get out, feel like nobody wants to/can see me, and am one step shy of  begging someone to hang out, I need an affirmative reply only. Anything that points out that you cannot spend time with me, no matter how much you'd like to in theory, only points out further that I'm still alone.  Here's one more person that I can't spend time with. When we see that little "so and so commented on your post" notification, you've given us false hope. I know it's done with the best of intentions, but honestly, it hurts more than it helps most times. It might sound silly, and maybe it is, but it's true none the less. 

• "Ugh", as the sole response. I've just bared my soul and you've said "ugh." We're emotional and we are hoping for something like "what a jerk I hope he dies a fiery death," (insert scolding/abhorrence as relates to topic). I'll admit, I'm occassionally I'm guilty of this when driving or when someone continually texts me even when I've said I am unable to talk. And again, this is acceptable for "I stubbed my toe", but not when we desperately need to talk. If you're driving, or can't reply right now, we understand, assuming it's not life-threatening. But we want a real connection, whenever you have a chance to reply. Not something that looked like your cat texted. (See post Everything's OK for a longer rant.. err... explanation on this subject). 

• "Smile, relax, take a deep breath, calm down." You say this and I say "I hope you don't value your head because it's about to roll."  I spend several hundreds of dollars on therapy and medication each month, and probably will for the rest of my life. I have to beg out of social situations, spend days curled up in the chair with my book (at best), because I'm too depressed to face people. I get so agitated with hypomania that I can't stand myself at times. If I could smile or take a deep breath and fix it, I would. It'd save a lot of time and money and angst both for me and those around me. So clearly, that's not an option. Also, I KNOW I'm not calm or relaxed or smiling. That's why I'm talking to you about my struggles in the first place. And once again, this dumbs it down, like it's a choice, and I'm choosing to battle a mental illness. 

Again, we know that when you say these things you mean no harm. In fact, you're probably trying to help. But if you truly want to help, make it personal. Reply in a manner that's directly related to what we've said, that shows that even if you don't fully understand what we're going through, you're there and you want to make it better, even though that's probably not within your power (since it's not even within our power). I wrote this post a while back on how to help someone battling depression, and gives more specifics on ways to react.  But when in doubt, telling someone you love them (assuming it's appropriate), you care, you're there for them, and asking what you can do to help, usually does the trick. 

Nothing is Ever One Sided

I'll totally admit that I'm pissy as I write this. I'm pissy because I'm sick of myself, and others with mental health conditions, being scapegoats. It's easy for everything to be "our fault." After all, we're the crazy ones, right? We're the ones who over-react, freak out, The irrational ones that blow things out of proportion, misinterpret, over-analyze. And maybe, maybe, we sometimes are (except the crazy, that's just bullshit). But not all the time. Nobody is right or wrong 100 percent of the time. Nobody. Barring physical abuse (I'd safely say we can put that in the "always wrong" category), can you think of a single situation in which you can say it's always, without one possible exception right or wron?. Not almost always or virtually never or mostly always or "I could make a good case for this", but literally always or never? I cannot. And I'd challenge you to do so and find others who agree.

Right and wrong is opinion, subjective. Not fact. By definition, that means that there are two sides, or can be. Let me give you an example. Person A comes home from work. Person B says something not overly positive, but basically benign to me. Person A flips. Completely flips. They start yelling at Person B. Person B throws their hands up and calls them a crazy asshole and claims they did nothing. Anyone from the outside looking in, with no background might say, "Geez, all they did was ask if they could wash the dishes when they got a chance!" But maybe every single day, when Person A comes in the door, before they can even put their bags down after a long day, before Person B even asks how their day went, they ask them to do some chore or task. And they expect the person to happily do it, to agree without . If  Person A so much as hesitates before agreeing with a smile on their face, Person B gets upset. If Person A says they've had a long day or they're tired or has some other reason they don't want to/can't agree to the task right now, Person B tells them that they're lazy and never do anything to help and starts demeaning them. But to hear Person B tell it, they just asked nicely if Person A would mind doing the dishes and got reamed.

And maybe, to give Person B the benefit of the doubt, they've done nothing. And maybe they didn't deserve to get yelled at. But maybe Person A just found out that their company is downsizing and they may get laid off, and the same day found out that their favorite aunt has terminal cancer, and that their car needs $8000 worth of repair for something that's not covered by their warranty, which is especially stressful now that they may get laid off.  Perhaps, the last thing they needed when they got home was to be asked to do a chore around the house. All they wanted to do was have a glass a wine, get a hug and a "we'll get through this together" from their partner, and get to bed early because they're too anxious to do anything else. And instead of a hug and a "we'll get through this," they got "can you do the dishes". Did they over-react to that particular request? Yes. I'd probably say they did. But given the circumstances, is it a bit understandable? Again, I'd say yes. Had Person B asked how their day was going first, they'd probably have done the dishes themselves. And if they did, and their response was still to expect Person A to drop everything and go do the dishes, they may have gotten what they deserved.

Those of us with mental health conditions are easy targets. Because of our panic, anxiety, (hypo)mania, and depression, people are more willing to believe that we're at fault. Of course we are, we're the one with the problem. And because, when we're provoked we get more panicky, anxious, depressed, or (hypo)manic, we do react, it becomes increasingly easier to blame us. It's the old back a frightened animal into a corner while jabbing at it with a stick, and then blame it when it bites trick. Eventually, the animal becomes so nervous around you that it may lunge out even in when unprovoked. Sure, the animal is nervous, and this nervousness plays a part. Yes, it technically went after you, and that's not a good thing. It did have a role in the scenario. But it had its reasons, whether you care to understand them and work with them or not. And those on the outside who are less insightful will fall for it. They'll believe you were innocently standing there, attacked needlessly by a wild animal. Those of us dealing with the condition may even believe it ourselves at times, at our lowest points where we lack belief in ourselves, when we're easily molded and preyed upon. Until eventually, we regain our strength and see the truth for what it is. We'll acknowledge our part, but we won't take the whole blame. We, the "crazy" ones, understand there are two sides.

If someone's stories or account continually involve them always being right and the another person always being wrong, if they're constantly making themselves to be the "good guy (woman)" and the other person to be the "bad guy (woman), be wary. Because basically, they're full of it. Or they have such a lack of awareness that they truly always think they're right. People that see the world this way have a narrow lens, and don't want to see it through any view point but their own. They don't want to say "what can I do to help" or "what could I have done differently" or "perhaps there are two sides to this." They want things to all come together to support their view, whatever that is. And if their view changes, so do the "facts" that support it. A person who's telling the full truth may get exacerbated with others. But they'll eventually give them some sort of credit. They won't portray them as crazy monsters. They'll be able to understand their own part in things. They may speak of others' faults, but they'll also acknowledge their own. And those are the people who you want in your life. Because right now, you may be "right" because you agree with the only version of the story the person is willing to tell you. But give it long enough, and you'll be the one who's "always wrong." Because nobody's perfect, and when Person A is out of the picture, Person B will need someone else to blame when something goes wrong.