Forgiving Self-Care.

How many times have you been told that self-care is the best care? For me, I think I am somewhere around the million mark for how many times I have heard that I need to take care of myself. Yet when it comes to "taking care of ourselves", we can often find that there is not enough time in the day to do it all.

Sometimes taking care of yourself means saying no... to yourself, to loved ones, to employers, to friends. Albeit this sounds easy in theory, there is a major hurdle that we sometimes don't think about when it comes to carving our time for ourselves by saying no to others: guilt. With each no, a little bit of guilt may creep in. I am THE WORST at saying no to others. I am a super woman until I am knee deep in 'have to dos' and stretched so thin that I am barely human, let alone super woman. When I do say no, I find myself feeling tremendously guilty or fighting a hefty dose of FOMO.

I see this same cycle of yes, yes, yes, breakdown, yes yes yes, breakdown a thousand times over when working with college students and young adults. It is ingrained in our generation to take on each opportunity with gusto. However, in most cases, that is doing more harm that good. We need to say no. We need self-care. Without it, we turn into miserable zombies drifting from one half-assed project to the next.

That's why I took a break from this blog. I needed to say no to something. The guilt of not writing has slipped into my subconscious a million and a half times since March 19th when I last posted. Each time, I tucked that guilt away and remembered one of my favorite adages: you cannot pour from an empty cup. My cup has been drained by travel, job-searching, moving, wedding planning, and a million other things. The guilt will have to wait. My cup needed some filling. It needed some self-care.

So what are you going to say no to next time you need to make time for self-care? How are you going to tell the guilt to GTFO? If you can answer these two questions, you are well on your way to a full cup.

Finding a Therapist.

Recently, I started sharing my story (and my phone number) with college students across the country as I have really started pursuing a new adventure as a college speaker. One of the things that always blows me away is how willing some people are to be vulnerable- if they are simply asked the right questions. Often times, I think we get so wrapped up in our own lives that we forget to stop and truly listen to the conversations that we have with others. One moment can change everything. So what happens when we stop, we listen, and we ask the right questions? Recently, I was at a conference with thousands of college students and had the chance to really be "in the moment". After facilitating a session, a young man approached me and told me his story. I listened, intently. I was surprised at what he told me. He was struggling to find himself- the person he wants to be- beyond depression. We exchanged numbers and I was thrilled to hear back from him the next day. His vulnerability was inspiring.

The conversation with the young man led to me sending him some of my favorite books on learning to love yourself. It also taught me that I had been missing a big part of asking the right questions. Whenever I speak to college students, I always ask "how are you, no really, how are you?" and tell them that it is okay not to be okay. The question that usually follows hours later via text message is "how do I do that?" Time and time again, I have found that the stigma of depression, counseling, mental illness can stop people from getting help, but there can sometimes be one other huge roadblock- they don't know how to seek help.

Seeing a counselor or therapist isn't what you see in the movies- no couches to lay on or ancient clipboards or ugly sweater-vests. It isn't necessarily prying into your childhood or digging into your subconscious. It is a conversation centered around seeking hope. You get to be the guide as you work together to find solutions to what you are feeling.

Finding a therapist is sometimes a process- you want to make sure that you have the same goals, are compatible, and you feel comfortable talking to them- but it is not difficult. If you are a college student, check to see if your school has a counseling center. If you are working through an insurance provider, see who they cover via their website. If you are seeking a child, adolescent, or young adult counselor, I suggest the American Association of Marriage and Family Therapy's "Locate A Therapist" database- that is actually the tool that I used to find my current doctor.

There are so many resources out there. What are some of the ones that you have used?

The Day After The Day About Love.

Valentine's Day is weird. Nearly everyone falls into two camps when it comes to feelings about the day- you either adore it and spend all day wrapped in bliss or you hate it and spend all day lamenting about how awful love is. For ten years, I thought that the only boyfriend that would ever stick around would be depression; we had a horribly unhealthy relationship, but he always stuck around even when I tried to date someone else. When I was ready to take (yet another) break from dating, I just happened to match with a smooth talker who convinced me that he deserved a chance. On one of our first dates, I could not stop myself from spilling every detail of my struggle with mental illness with this introverted, quiet man that had no idea what to expect from the loud redhead that he met through online dating. For some insane reason, he asked me out again and again and again- even after that embarrassing lack of constraint on that date.

About three months later, I woke up with high anxiety and knew that I was close to a breakdown. He could tell something was wrong just by looking at my face and soon found himself holding me as wrapped myself in a blanket burrito and sobbed uncontrollably. With a tear streaked face, I asked him if he thought I was crazy and if he still wanted to be with me. I had been through this before- meet a man, start to fall for him, and then the depression and anxiety scares him away. But this time proved to be different; he pushed the hair out of my face and said “I have been waiting for this. I want to see the real you- all of you. The perfectly imperfect you.”

I fell in love with someone who sees my mental illness as just another thing that makes me unique and wonderful. On the days that feel impossibly hard, he encourages me to try to take one step- get out of bed- and then another- make coffee- and another, until I feel confidently enough to take on the day. He reminds me to take my medication every day- he is a pharmacist after all- and tells me to focus on breathing when I feel an anxiety attack creeping in. I brought my mental illness to this relationship, but that doesn’t mean that it has control over us. My mental illness is a challenge that we embrace together, every day.

In October, we are getting married. My anxiety tends to be a party crasher and will probably show up without RSVPing, but we are ready. In life and love, there is nothing that is impossible when you have the hope and fight in you to keep pushing on.

PS Check out Ryan & Alyssa Photography! They took this amazing picture of us.

Little Women with Big Voices.

The last month has been impossibly hard. Each day, I wake up afraid of what horrible thing that I will see in the media or what outrageous thing has happened in our world. I have felt scared, alone, angry, and useless. I am a worrier- it is in my blood. Living in a Trump presidency feel impossible because there is so much unpredictability that my brain can't help but think of the worst in every situation. Repeal ACA? My anxious brain tells me that I am going to lose my health insurance and not be able to afford my medications. Turn public education into a private money-maker? I am worried about my students, my job, my future children. I hope that my fear is irrational, but I cannot help but worry.

With all of this fear, worry, anxiety sitting on my chest, how could I possibly think about writing this blog, seeking opportunities to further advocate for mental health and wellness, or even contemplate continuing to tell the stories that are buried within me? My voice feels so small compared to the chaos in our world. So I fell silent.

And then, I had a realization... silence is my safety blanket. From the day I was diagnosed until the day I put this video into the world, I had used silence to protect myself from the harsh reality that people may see me differently if they know that I live with a mental illness. For so long I had let being silent keep me safe from judgement, but in doing so had pushed people away, lied to those that I love, and fought my battle alone. In silence, there is comfort laced with ignorance. Staying comfortable means nothing changes.

That is my challenge- in this time of uncertainty and fear, find your voice and use it. Whatever ignites your soul, share it with others. That is the only way we will ever overcome that challenges that lie in front of us.

I Won't Be Silent.

I haven't wrote anything in a while. I have been afraid, ashamed- my confidence shaken. A few weeks ago, I had a conversation with someone that I look up to and they revealed (with no intended malice) that people had been talking about me and my willingness to be open about my struggle with mental illness. Hearing my story made people uncomfortable. In a small Southern town, such topics are not discussed out in the open... they are reserved for back porches and whispered breath.

Nearly a year after I had first shared my story through a video, I was heartbroken, embarrassed, scared, and uncertain. Had I made the right choice? Is my story worth sharing? Am I doing more harm than good? These questions filled my thoughts and made it impossible to even consider writing- wouldn't I just be giving "the talkers" more ammunition?

The last month has been FULL of changes and challenges. I have questioned whether or not my story is worth sharing. I have gotten engaged and started wedding planning. I have struggled with horrible anxiety. I have decided to move (again) for the 7th time in 8.5 years. I have finally figured out "what's next" in terms of my career. It has been easy to put off things like self-care, blogging, pursuing what makes me happy- storytelling.

But today, that changes. I have been so lucky to attend a general assembly for a fantastic group that focuses on the health and wellness of college students. We got to take best worst selfies together, talk about vulnerability and courage, and tackle the insane task of learning to love ourselves. I got to ask my favorite question- how are you... no really, how are you?

The bravery that I saw in that room reminded me of why it is so important to keep talking about the difficult topics. We cannot be silent. We must continue to tell stories to change lives. Because the most powerful weapon against fear is love and learning to love yourself may be the ultimate training for that battle.

From the Psychiatrist's Office.

Today, I had my usual 3-month check in with my psychiatrist and once again had to face one of my biggest anxieties... The waiting room.

This room fills me with dread before I even step foot into it. I know there will be other people there and we will all shift our eyes around the room to avoid eye contact, pondering what has brought each of us here. Someone will sneak a look my way and think "wow, she is too young to be seeing a psychiatrist- I wonder what happened to her." Another person will stare at their shoes with a heart full of shame, embarrassed to be seen in a mental health center. It is an uncomfortable place with tension pulsing through the air.

That is why I always smile at every person who walks through the door.

At first, it was a way to cope with my own anxiety, but it has since evolved into a personal mission of sorts. I want the people around me to know that it is okay not to be okay. I hope that they know that simply being in that office is a monstrous step towards getting better. My smile is my weapon to combat the awkwardness that fills the room.

Today was no different until a conversation began to unfold around me. I was flanked by a middle aged man who arrived way too early for his appointment, and in front of me sat an elderly woman I have seen many times before. They started chatting- small talk really- and then began to unpack the reasons why there were there.

My smile dropped and my heart sank. The woman brought up that she has been seeing our psychiatrist for 20 years. 20 YEARS. I felt tears well up in my eyes as a thought about my future- will I be sitting in this chair 20 years from now? How long will I have to take these medications? Is my future always going to be shared with my mental illness?

The man then asked the question whose answer I needed to hear- "have you gotten better?"

"Oh yes!" the woman exclaimed. She went on to tell us how her medication hasn't changed in 10 years and she is very stable. She told us about her children and grandchildren, about her husband that has now since passed away but gave her the best years of her life, and about the amazing things she had done over the last 20 years.

In this woman, I saw my future. Yes, I will probably always be dealing with my depression and anxiety. But that won't stop me from living a full life. You can be all the things you want to be and do all the things you want to do- even with a mental illness. Life does not end at the beginning of the diagnosis.

Who Were You Before Depression.

Who were you before depression? This is one of the most complex questions I have ever been asked. I don't remember when I started feeling this way. There was never a switch that was flipped, turning on the depression and anxiety- it has been present for as long as I can remember. I have always been a perfectionist... in the 1st grade, I had a complete meltdown because I received a B instead of an A on an interim report. But the anxiety that comes from the pursuit of perfection and the resulting depression when that ideal isn't obtained... I know it wasn't always there. It crept in slowly over time.

I do know when I was officially diagnosed, then re-diagnosed, and then re-diagnosed again. Who was I before the phrase "mental illness" entered my life? When I think back, I try to compare the person that I was when I walked into the doctors office to the person I was when I left.  She was the same person, albeit with more clarity and a tear-stained face. Putting a title to the feelings that I had felt for so long didn't change who I was or how I felt. It simply made it easier to overcome each day's challenges by giving me treatment options.

Who were you before depression? I was me- the same me that I am today.

Having a mental illness didn't change the person I am. Yes, it made me more resilient, reflective, compassionate, and kind; but, at my core, I am still the same person that I was before the feelings wiggled their way in and before my therapist stamped her diagnosis onto my chart. My depression doesn't define who I am. It is simply a part of my life... like an unwelcome relative who refuses to leave, even after Thanksgiving dinner is over. It hangs out, occasionally meddling in my affairs and asserting its position within my life. Yet it has no impact on WHO I am. I am the only one that gets to decide that.

Depression isn't who I am. I am a person, not an illness.

Why I Want to Talk About My Mental Illness.

Whenever I bring up my mental illness, I usually get one of two reactions. More often than not, I am met with noticeable shifts in body language which signal uncomfortably and sympathetic glances that quickly melt into averted eye contact. In my experience, talking about mental illness can make people extremely uneasy- like it is a taboo subject that should be kept hidden in a box shoved to the back of a closet. This type of response will cause shame and embarrassment to rise in my chest... why does this piece of me make people feel so awkward? These feelings caused me to hide my disorder from the public for nearly 8 years. I felt like a liar, an impostor, a fake shell of a person. I felt unbearably alone in my struggle against depression and anxiety. This is why I often hold my breath when I first share my story with new people. I know that I will be met either with the aforementioned uncomfortably or a reaction that leads to a new connection, deeper and more meaningful than one can imagine. Suffering with mental illness can be so isolating, thus when one meets someone who is struggling with the same thing (or something similar), it can feel like a breath of fresh air. FINALLY- someone who I can talk to without feeling ashamed or judged. Ever since I started sharing my story, I have been blown away by the number of people who have reached out to share their own struggle and offer words of encouragement. I have been touched by the countless individuals who have sent a text or Facebook message to explain that they have been struggling to overcome their own feelings and want advice on how to seek professional help.

This is why I want to talk about my mental illness.

I want the stigma attached to mental illness to transform into support for those who are struggling. This idea that mental illness is something that we should keep hidden and those that are affected should suffer in silence is ridiculous. Approximately 1 in 5 adults experiences mental illness in a given year. THAT IS ALMOST 20% OF OUR FRIENDS, FAMILY MEMBERS, CO-WORKERS, NEIGHBORS. Instead of stigmatizing them, we should be supporting them. Instead of shunning mental illness, we should start conversations about it. Instead of hiding our struggles, we should be sharing our stories.

This is why I want to talk about my mental illness. I want people to know that it is okay to not be okay. I want people to know that you can live a full life, be successful, and have a chronic mental illness. I want to end the stigma associated with mental illness.  I want people to know that they are not alone and there are people who are so willing to help and support them. I want people to ask questions, learn about mental illness, and stop treating my depression/anxiety like a taboo subject.

So lets talk.

It's Okay to Not Be Okay.

Over the last couple of weeks, I have taken a hiatus. Friends, students, my blog, social media all took a backseat while I focused on the war raging in my mind. At first, I felt incredibly guilty about withdrawing from the world- like I was letting down the people around me by not giving my time and energy away. This is a feeling that I often struggle with, but have learned to manage. However, this time was very different. No matter what I did, I couldn't seem to pull myself together and turn to face the world again. I felt like a fraud, like a failure. How could I possibly call myself an advocate for mental wellness or promote the concept of "being unapologetically you" when I was stuck in a cycle of self-criticism and shame? I felt like an imposter, pretending to have everything together when, in actuality, I was crumbling inside. It took a very real conversation with one of my most beloved students- a conversation in which she became the teacher and I became the student- for me to realize that I had forgotten the single most important piece of advice that I can give to anyone struggling to find the light they need to push on in this crazy, difficult, overwhelming world...

It's okay to not be okay.

A little louder for the people in the back- IT'S OKAY TO NOT BE OKAY.

Every single one of us is fighting a battle, struggling to keep it together, simply going through some shit. There is no shame in that- it is a part of the human condition. It is easy to fall into the mindset that you must be perfect or at least appear perfect- this is my personal Achilles' Heel. But you will find that there is so much freedom in the moments that are messy and imperfect and real. Those are the moments in which we can be ourselves- unapologetically- with flaws and off days and problems and bad eyebrows. Because, regardless of what the little voice in your head tells you, it is okay to not be okay.

Now go out there and kick some ass. The second step to getting better (after you forgive yourself for being so hard on you) is remembering the brilliant reasons why you are on this earth. You are important, you are deserving, you are wonderful. It may not feel like that today- and that is perfectly okay- but trust me, you are worth it.

Technology & Depression.

As a stereotypical millennial, I can't image what it was like living 50 years ago... no phones, laptops, Fitbits, digital cameras, and the like. Every day, I keep a small tracker (a Spire) close to my heart- monitoring the rise and fall of my chest so that I know when I am starting to get anxious or forgetting to manipulate my breath with long, slow inhales and exhales. This tiny piece of technology helps me stay in control of my disorder. It is astounding what is available to help individuals manage their mental illness... meditation apps, mood tracking devices, and even something as silly as Pokemon Go. Although it is too soon to have significant data focused on the impact of AR games like Pokemon Go on disorders like depression or social anxiety, anecdotal evidence shows that there may be something positive happening. People who have struggle to leave their houses because of the overwhelming sense of fear, sadness, and anguish is too much, are forced to leave their houses and get into the sunshine- a key step in fighting depression. Groups of people are being brought together at Pokestops and gyms- something that someone with chronic anxiety may find hard to do without a little help.

Recently, my life was touched by the death of a student at the college that I work at. It ripped my heart open and crushed my spirit. I could not force the sadness away. My thought became obsessive over the life cut far too short. After a memorial service, I found myself barely able to breath as the air felt far too thick and heavy in my lungs. I decided to walk around campus to clear my mind. I stumbled upon a group of individuals sitting together, playing Pokemon Go. We chatted, laughed, cried, remembered, and cherished a simple moment of retreat from the world.

Later that evening, when I contemplated sharing my experience with the world of social media, I hesitated out of fear of the judgement that may come from revealing that I play the silly little game. Shame is a part of my daily life, as I am often so embarrassed that I have a mental illness. Yet, until then, I was never aware of the privilege that is an underlying piece of the dynamic in place between those who struggle with mental illness and those who do not.

"Get off your phone. Go experience life. Quit wasting your time with a game and go make some friends." What if, instead of judging, we starting listening? The reason I am on my phone is because I am texting the datemate to help me remain calm and avoid a panic attack. The reason I love playing Pokemon Go is that it motivates me to get out of bed and go outside- something my depression loves to stop me from doing. Maybe I am out making friends and using technology to facilitate that interaction as my social anxiety stops me from ever spontaneously starting a conversation.

Next time you feel like judging someone for relying on technology, check your privilege. It may be the only thing stopping them from falling apart. Each of us is fighting our own battle, be kind.

Birthday Inspiration.

Today is my 26th birthday. That is close to 9500 days on this earth. In that time, I have been to my own personal hell and back. I have failed and I have thrived. I have seen death and fought for life. Through it all, the one thing that I cling to like a newborn child to its mother is hope. Hope that things will get better, nothing will stop me from reaching my dreams, my life will be full of happiness despite my disorder, and I will be an active warrior in the fight to make this world a more wonderful place. If today was the last birthday you would ever have, what would you do? Give up and waste away those last precious 365 days? Or find hope that you can make a splash so big that the waves long outlast you? Hope seems kinda nice, doesn't it? Live everyday like it is another day towards your last birthday. Hope with all your heart. Let your light so shine.

Thanks for being a part of my birthday!

Motivation Monday.

What's the Plan, Stan?

Every plan starts the same way- by thinking of the best possible outcome and figuring out what it will take to get there. Start your plan. What does your land of sunshine and unicorns look like? You can do this. It is time to start.

Motivation Monday.

Know the Signs of Depression.

Know the signs. Seek help. Offer help. Let's get better, together.

Motivation Monday.

Beating the Little Voice.

I originally started writing this for a scholarly, monthly e-journal for higher education professionals, but almost let the little voice in my head win: "this isn't good enough to share with your peers". The deadline grew closer and that little voice grew louder and more condescending. Through all the therapy, treatment, and medication, there are still times that the little "you aren't good enough" voice wins. Today, I am fighting back- I am beating the little voice...

I Have a Mental Illness, but I’m Not Crazy

According to the National Alliance on Mental Health, “one in four adults−approximately 61.5 million Americans−experiences mental illness in a given year”. With such a high percentage of our population facing mental illness, it is logical to assume that we will come into contact with individuals- colleagues, students, friends, or family members- who are tackling an unseen disease of the mind. Unfortunately, there is a dark stigma attached to mental illness and those who suffer from it; a stigma that can be broken down into five interrelated components: labeling, stereotyping, separation, status loss, and discrimination (Link & Phelan, 2001).

Labeling

Crazy. Over-emotional. High-strung. Wishy-washy. Needy. Too sensitive. Abnormal. Weird. These are all things I have been called over the last seven years- words that kept me from confiding in others because putting a name to my disorder would solidify the labels that I had so often heard. Because I was so afraid of these labels, I refused to acknowledge that I had a problem, thus avoiding the therapy and treatments that I desperately needed. Labels create an internalized stigma that can stop someone from seeking help. I have depression and anxiety that outwardly appears to be bipolar disorder, but that doesn’t define who I am or dictate my personality.

 Stereotyping

A quick Google image search of the phrase “mentally ill” reveals rows upon rows of thin, disheveled individuals with wild, desperate eyes. It was these pictures that came to mind when I first heard the words “bipolar disorder” escape from the mouth of my psychiatrist. Yet, recently, I was described as someone who “outwardly appears to be the girl next door.  Someone you would hire to babysit your kids or house sit for you while you are on vacation” (Coulter, 2016). This image is a sharp contrast to that of someone you would picture to be mentally ill. The stereotypical “mentally ill” individual is a fallacy; I have an illness, but I do not look sick.

 Separation

Making the decision to share my struggle with mental illness after almost seven years of suffering alone was one of the toughest decisions I have ever made, as the fear of backlash, rejection, and misunderstanding was overwhelming. I was very fortunate that the majority of the feedback that I got after first sharing my story was positive, yet I still received some harsh, hurtful criticism: “you are just doing this for attention” or “does this mean you are going to cry a lot more often?” The concept that mental illness and attention-seeking behaviors are intertwined is ridiculous.  Thoughtless comments like the aforementioned can cause divides within relationships. In a time of need, individuals struggling with a mental illness may find themselves alienated, ostracized, or separated from the people they need the most.

 Status Loss

As long as I can remember, there has been a little voice in the back of my head reminding me that I will never, ever be "good enough", thus feeding into my chronic depression. The most heartbreaking stigma that I have had to endure is that of status loss among the people I love most. My mental illness has always made me feel as if I am in need of repair. A colleague telling me that I shouldn't share my story with others as they may not be comfortable with me, or may not think I was competent at my job, solidified the notion that I was a broken girl who would never be good enough. Fortunately, this colleague was wrong- my mental illness has made me a more compassionate, empathetic advisor. I may be struggling to keep it all together at times, but I am not incompetent.

 Discrimination

The scariest part of publicly sharing my struggle with mental illness was knowing that there would be some discrimination that would follow. Widely publicized incidents like the Sandy Hook shooting and the attack on Charleston's Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church Large have caused fear to rise in the throats of those who hear the words "mentally ill". Large studies conducted in 1996 and 2006 showed that "Americans grew less willing over time to befriend or work with someone with schizophrenia, and more inclined to see people with the disease as violent and dangerous" (Szabo, 2014). Navigating mental illness can be a scary thing, but I promise you, I am not to be feared.

A recent study found that over half of college students are experiencing some form of mental illness (Zivin et al., 2009), thus leading to a reasonable conclusion that, even if you or a colleague is mentally well, you will interact with someone who is not well within the college setting. Mental illness- whether it be fleeting or chronic- needs to be talked about. The more conversations that are had, the less power the stigma attached to mental illness will become; thus, empowering those living with mental health issues to seek help, get better, and persevere.

References

Coulter, J. (2016, May 12). How a Cat and Young Woman Save Lives. Retrieved June 15, 2016, from ConquerWorry.org: http://www.conquerworry.org/blog/5-12-2016

Link, B. & Phelan, J. (2001) Conceptualizing Stigma. Annual Review of Sociology 27(3): 363–85.

National Alliance on Mental Health. (n.d.). Any Mental Illness (AMI) Among Adults. Retrieved June 15, 2016, from National Alliance on Mental Health: http://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/statistics/prevalence/any-mental-illness-ami-among-adults.shtml#sthash.UGAqHdQD.dpuf

Szabo, L. (2014, June 25). Cost of Not Caring: Stigma Set in Stone. USA Today , pp. 14-20.

Zivin, K., Eisenberg, D., Gollust, S. E., & Golberstein, E. (2009). Persistence of mental health problems and needs in a college student population. Journal of Affective Disorders , 117, 180-185.

Wake-Up Wednesday.

Words for the Soul.