Blogs
The idea of healing through writing might feel too good to be true. When I was a kid, I used to sit on my bed in the moonlight and craft fictional stories in my mind. I'd spend Friday nights with fairy lights decked across my room and draft poetry and lyrics about my current situation. I'd journal before falling asleep to release any fear or obsessive thoughts that were clouding my head. Little did I know, I was healing through writing.
I hate pop psychology a lot. And I hate pop psychology a lot for a very good reason: it harms those with mental illness (among others). Pop psychology aims to answer the mind's and the brain's questions with simplistic, easily digestible answers. Unfortunately, the brain and mind don't actually work like that. The body and the psyche require more than what pop psychology has to offer. So, yes, I hate pop psychology.
A month ago, I underwent knee replacement surgery on my right knee. While my knee is healing well, the surgery's mental health impact is almost unbearable.
Everyone's healing journey away from verbal abuse is unique. Numerous tools and resources are available to use as viable methods for healing. What works for you may not be a helpful solution for others recovering from verbal abuse. One of these methods is changing your own ways regarding relationships.
I've learned throughout my life, and in having coped with anxiety for many years, that many of the simplest pleasures in life can be the most helpful for my anxiety. Therefore, taking the time to appreciate simple pleasures is an instrumental part of my life and my ability to cope with anxiety.
Forming healthy relationships in early recovery from alcoholism is tricky. If you go the route of inpatient treatment or via Alcoholics Anonymous, you'll soon learn the phrase people, places, and things. Much of that boils down to avoiding people from your active addiction to help you stay sober. So, how does someone new to recovery approach forming healthy relationships and avoid ones that may lead back to alcoholism and addiction?
I live as a transgender person, and I also have bipolar disorder. While being transgender is not a mental illness, these two things still have a lot in common. Over the years, I've reflected on what these two things share. Today, I'll discuss the commonalities between them and what it feels like to live both as a transgender person and as a person with bipolar disorder.
Who are you? They say you are not your job. Personally, I say one more thing: you are not your relationship. But if you are not your job or relationship, who are you?
When I started taking medication every day, I was worried that it would make me a drug addict. Some might find this fear weird, but it was definitely a real fear for me. My father was an addict, and I was terrified of turning into one, too. My psychiatrist at the time did nothing to disabuse me of that notion either (he probably never thought it would cross my mind). So, let's look at whether taking medication every day makes you a drug addict and how to deal with that fear.
I like to practice gratitude in recovery. This is because recovering from a mental illness is difficult and often comes with dark moments. In my own journey, there have been many times when I've felt discouraged and disengaged and ultimately have asked myself, "Is recovering worth it?" Well, yes, it is worth it, but it's nice to have reminders. I've taken my gratitude practices very seriously in the last few years, and they've become essential to my recovery.
Once a year or so, things will get better and suddenly my mood lifts. However, I’ll soon make another mistake and go right back to my long term severe depression. Thus, it is clear to me that I don’t have a chemical imbalance or some sort of mental disorder. Instead, my depression is completely explainable. I’m a lonely screw up despite decades of effort. These circumstances would make anyone suicidal. I made major attempts three times. At age 20 I had a major anxiety attack the day before my junior year. I went in the woods near my house with a pistol. I held it to my head but eventually chickened out. I convinced myself that things were would get better. Deep, deep
down inside I knew they wouldn’t and that was the case. Most recently I’ve found a large rock outcropping at the exit I take for the gym. I wish
I wasn’t so afraid. I feel regret every day that I didn’t go through with it at 20. So much pain.
Every other suicidal person I’ve met has flawed thinking and can get back on track. In my case, however, my thinking is clear: I am a friendless screwup. The evidence is there plain as day.
Thank you for your comment. I'm so sorry for what you've been through. I wish I could say something to make it feel better, but I suspect that's impossible.
What I can say is that you're right to hope. There is always the possibility of positive change. Getting help -- new help, additional help, etc. -- can be very hard and even disheartening at times, but it can also work, too.
I'm sending you some warm fuzzies. I know how hard it is, but the fact that you're still here speaks to your strength.
-- Natasha Tracy