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.

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.

This is My Brave.

This Is My Brave, Inc., a 501(c)3 non-profit organization (http://thisismybrave.org) is the leading platform for individuals to share their stories of living successful lives despite a diagnosis of a mental health disorder through artistic expression (spoken word poetry, original music and essay readings) on stage in front of a live audience. We're opening up the conversation about mental health disorders in communities all across the country and beyond via our YouTube channel.

We're shining a light on mental illness because it has been in the dark too long. We're ending mental illness stigma, one story at a time.

"This Is My Brave - the Show" - 2016 Greenville performance

May 5, 2016 The Kroc Center, Greenville SC

Donate to This Is My Brave, Inc. to help us continue to shine a light on mental illness: http://thisismybrave.org/donate/

My Depression Diet

Have you ever felt guilty after eating something you just know you shouldn't eat? Maybe tried slipping into your favorite jeans to realize that they are just a little too snug and then regretting every donut you have ever eaten? What about looking at yourself in the mirror and seeing nothing but every flaw? Now imagine those thoughts screaming at you non-stop, getting louder until you can't hear anything else. Welcome to your body with depression.

Recently, I decided that I was going to cut all refined sugar from my diet. Why you ask? Because I had convinced myself that cutting refined sugar would bring me closer to finding a mind-body connection, something that I have been seeking to reach ever since I started therapy again almost 2 years ago. The result was far from any sort of connection- I was grouchy, miserable, and craving Diet Coke, my kryptonite. But I did gain something: control.

Reflecting back on the day that I decided to cut sugar, I was knee-deep in stress from the end of the semester, working on my biggest project of the year, and confronting a nasty problem at work. I felt like I was losing control, so I looked for the easiest thing I could have power over: what I ate. This isn't the first time I have manipulated my diet or denied myself food in order to feel like I had some tiny bit of control in my life. This has been my relationship with food for the last 10 years. This has been my depression diet.

Although I have never been diagnosed with an eating disorder nor would I consider my eating habits to be distinctly unhealthy, I do acknowledge the fact that living with depression has forced me to be hyperaware of how I am treating my body. In the pursuit of the unattainable perfection I have always sought, I have tried to push myself towards a body that is perfect. Any pants above a size zero won't do, wearing a size medium shirt crushes my self-esteem. This has sometimes led to trying "get skinny fast" tricks or working out to my body's limit. Not being able to reach my dream body type overnight then led to deeper depression and a stronger feeling of helpless, thus pushing me to seek out ways to find control. It is an unending, unpleasant, and potentially dangerous cycle.

I believe that there is a way out. Learning to respect your body is one of the hardest things to accomplish when trying to overcome a mental illness. I have been angry at my body for cursing me with this illness, for not living up to my outrageous demands for perfection, for betraying me with its weakness. I have starved it, punished it, and disrespected it. But this body- stricken with depression and anxiety- is strong, resilient, and beautiful. It deserves to be loved as such.

I am still learning to love the body that I have lived with for 25 years. I am starting to give my body the respect it demands. Simply being aware of my eating habits and not letting myself get wrapped up in the numbers on the scale or how my jeans are fitting is the first, tiny step. Forgiving my body for its faults and pushing it towards new challenges is the next. Eventually, I hope love will come.

In the meantime, I am never, EVER giving up Diet Coke again.

3-Fold Truths.

Sometimes a routine eye doctors appointment can lead to the worst of anxiety- this is my story about how a quest for new glasses turned into a fear of blindness. Thank you for any good vibes you can send.

PS- Sorry about the rude puppy and growling in the background. Minnie sometimes feeds off my anxiety and can get a little rowdy... but that is for another post.

Bad Eyebrows.

Sometimes, depression can sneak up on you- coming out of nowhere to hit you like a semi-truck. It starts leaving its hints of its arrival days or weeks before it actually settles in. Little things like taking an extra 10 or 15 minutes to fall asleep or not really being hungry come meal-times. For me, there is one thing that always gives away the impending arrival of my old friend depression- bad eyebrows. When I start to fall into a low period, I find myself caring less and less about how I look- I won't take the time to do my makeup or fix my hair or most drastically, pluck my eyebrows. All of a sudden, I will look in the mirror and realize that those two furry caterpillars on my face are the sign that I might need to take a mental health day to take care of myself. How do I feel? Where am I on the scale- 1 being happy and 10 being depressed? Have I experienced any triggers recently? Have I been taking my medication?

They say (whoever 'they' are) that you should never take advice from someone with bad eyebrows. However, I am going to challenge that as I sit in front of my computer screen with some pretty terrible eyebrows that haven't been attended to in about 2 weeks and ask you to take some advice from someone who is still learning to figure out how to navigate the world of depression. Learn what the signs of depression are for you. Whether you have chronic depression or just tend to fall into small bouts of it from time to time, knowing what the signs are will help you get better quicker. You can step in front of the sadness, frustration, and apathy to start addressing what may be causing those feeling. You can can overcome.

Find your equivalent of bad eyebrows. It may make all the difference.

Beyond Brave.

It has been a little over a week since I told the story of my first suicide attempt at the Greenville show of 'This Is My Brave'. It has taken me all this time to figure out how to put my thoughts into words-the fear of backlash that had me holding my breath for days, the numerous stories shared with me as a result of the show, and the overwhelming support and love I have since received. In the audience at the show were several of my most favorite human beings- my mother, my father, my boyfriend, my boss's boss, and 2 of the amazing faculty I work with. While we rehearsed earlier in the day, I couldn't stop shaking and was so anxious that I actually thought about bolting from the room. I couldn't stop thinking about how risky this was- what if my story changes the way that people think about me? What if my parents are angry at me? What if my coworkers see me as incompetent? What if, like so many times before, the audience sees my story as a ploy for attention?

As the time to take the stage drew closer, I sat in the lobby of the venue, practicing my breathing exercises and repeating the silly manta I use to calm myself- you are the sun, you are the moon, you are the stars. I was surrounded by an odd medley of people- a Jewish rabbi with bipolar disorder, a 17 year old beauty battling anorexia, an anxious mother of 2 in whom I saw my future self. As we stood to go to the stage together, an overwhelming sense of calm came over me- I was ready to share my story and I was going to do it with the support of these amazing individuals around me.

Doing 'This Is My Brave' was one of the most daunting things I had ever done. Yet, from that experience, I feel that I have developed a deeper sense of understanding of my own disorder- it isn't something to be afraid or ashamed of. Instead, it is something to share with others, to use to help people suffering through the same diagnosis. There is so much power and strength in being able to talk about what haunts us- we are all battling demons... why not help each other overcome them?

Your story will save lives.

Since the show, I have been blown away by how many people have reached out to me to share their stories about their struggles with mental illness. 'This Is My Brave' opened the door for others to find their courage, to know that they are not alone, and to reach out for help through friendship. I have been touched by the love and support I have received. Individuals that I barely know all the way to friends that have been with me most my life have reached out to express how proud they are and want to know how they can help. My biggest fear going into the show was that my father would be upset by my story- a story that I kept hidden from him for nearly 7 years. Instead, 'This Is My Brave' allowed us to have our first direct conversation about my disorder, address some previous miscommunications, and grow closer as a family.

Finding the words to describe my experience has been challenging, but I think I may have it: 'This Is My Brave' isn't about finding bravery. Each and every performer on that stage found their bravery the moment they decided to get better, in whatever form that may be for them. 'This Is My Brave' isn't about sharing what makes us brave. For many of us, the stories we told are just a snapshot of what we are dealing with. Our battles will never end, yet we have the courage to continue to face them. 'This Is My Brave' is about challenging normalcy and helping others tackle whatever they may be going through by letting them know they are not alone.

Be brave. Always be brave.

In the Middle of my Brave.

Happy Mental Health Awareness Month! Lets spread the word to stop the stigma around mental health. What are you going to do to challenge yourself this month?

This is My Brave... Almost.

Next Thursday, I am taking my first leap of faith and sharing part of my story with strangers at the Kroc Center in downtown Greenville. The show is May 5th at 8pm and tickets (plus more information) can be found HERE.

April Fools.

"Am I a fool? I don't think I'm a fool. But I think I sure was fooled." - Kenneth Lay

This year, I almost got through April Fools without incident. That is, until about 6:00pm, when I received a text message from my boyfriend (who happens to be a pharmacist at a children's hospital) that explained that he was involved in a medicine error that caused a child serious brain damage and could have cost him his job and license. Looking back, this was probably hysterical as I texted him asking if everything was okay and then sent a slew of expletive-riddled tirades about how mean he is after he broke the news that it was all a joke. I mean, any logical person would have probably seen through his ruse because how likely was a 1-in-a-million error like this to happen on April Fools Day.

However, there is something different with an anxiety brain. Instead of thinking "oh, he must be joking", I immediately jumped past the thought of April Fools and started running through every worst case scenario in my head- how would I support us both financially? What about the dreams that we have created together?  How can I manage my depression and the inevitable depression that would come from a situation like this? What if he becomes suicidal?

As I sat in my living room- waiting for the punchline, my stomach twisted into knots, I felt like I would vomit, and I started breathing exercises to avoid a full-blown panic attack. None of this is logical, yet it is something that I experience often. An email that come across as scolding, a text message that seems too short, or a frustrated glance can trigger feelings of anxiety- what did I do wrong? Is there something wrong with me? Is everyone mad at me? Am I annoying? April Fools Day is my least favorite day throughout the year, as it seems to play into my anxious mind and thus turns me into a hot mess express headed towards dysfunction junction.

My poor, sweet, amazing boyfriend then felt the needs to apologize over and over again, as he never intended to trigger my anxiety. He felt bad that he upset me; I felt bad that he was feeling bad. This amazing human being, who supports me through thick and thin, loves me for all of me, and tries his best to understand my mental illness, tried to play a little joke that (on anyone else) would have been hilarious and my anxious brain turned the entire thing into an ordeal.

One positive thing has come from this whole experience- forgiveness. Although salty for a few hours, I did forgive the datemate for freaking me out. He forgave me for the harsh things I said in a state of anxiety. But most importantly, I forgave myself. Many times I have found myself replaying similar situations and getting angry at myself for being overreactive or overemotional. I have anxiety- it is going to cause some awkward situations, but that's okay. My anxious brain doesn't control me- I can forgive myself and I can live a life bigger than my mental illness.

An Episode.

What's in a Name?

Curiosity, Courage, and Cake. Sounds like a new show on TLC, doesn't it? Unfortunately, for those of you that still have a hole in your heart after the cancellation of Here Comes Honey Boo Boo, this isn't a new TV show. Its not the latest cupcake cookbook; its not the tagline of the next Alice in Wonderland movie.

It is a way of thinking that has helped me overcome some of the most difficult challenges I have faced in my short, but chaotic lifetime. I created this website to help others discover how a little bit of curiosity can change your entire life... a whole lot of courage is necessary if you are gonna make it out there... and there is nothing, NOTHING that can't be made a little bit better with cake.

"There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you." --Maya Angelou

Every experience, interaction, moment in time helps to define who we are and where we will go. Sharing stories is how we, as a society, shape our reality. Sometimes, it is easy to boil all of what has shaped us down into three little words- curiosity, courage, and cake- and other times, it take a novel. This is my story.