Can adding mantras to your self-care routine help with your mental health recovery? For many, the answer is yes. Mantras help us change our thought processes. Changing our thoughts gives us the ability to become more resilient, to change the way our brain neurons fire and to choose to move forward. Science agrees. In a 2009 study, Italian physicians studied the effect on the cardiovascular system of reciting the Ave Maria, the rosary or a yogic mantra.  The result:  Prayer and mantras increased cardiovascular function when recited six times a minute.1

Grief is a curious thing; especially when the mourner has a mental illness.  My mother died a month ago today from a combination of COPD, heart failure, diabetes, brain and bone cancer.  Her breast cancer had metastasized to every organ in her body.  I found out via my aunt 5 days after her death.  I wish that I could say that I was surprised, but my mother had chosen a hard life for years.  The surprise was how quickly she died after the brain cancer diagnosis.  She was diagnosed in May and given a year to live; she was dead in less than 3 months.   My mother and I had what could best be described as an awkward relationship:  abandonment as an infant, a lengthy court battle before my grandparents got guardianship and very limited contact throughout my life.

My goal for the Recovering from Mental Illness blog will be to discuss resilience, offer encouragement and share coping techniques I've found helpful in my own mental health recovery. I will also share my mental health challenges so that we can learn from one another.

I am Paulissa Kipp, creative braveheart, author, photographer, intuitive sage, artist, seeker of light, singer of songs and connection creator - one truth at a time. Law student and fierce advocate for the often overlooked. Amidst this strength is something that most people don't see - not because I hide it - but rather because it lurks in the shadows. I am affected by mental illness - PTSD, Panic Disorder and Bipolar II are my traveling partners. While I fly like the Phoenix, I am also aware that the Phoenix needs to rest in order to rise from the ashes.

I started writing this blog exactly two years ago--August, 2011. It was a time in my life largely defined by change: the end of long-term relationship, a new home in a new location, a memoir being published about mental health and addiction; I was sober after years of drug and alcohol abuse. I was more fragile then than I am now--a little more frightened of the world. Writing this blog--sharing my experiences and you sharing yours-- made my life a little easier. I felt less alone. I have moved four times within the past two years. I have struggled to stay sober and repair relationships and practice the self-care I preach in these blogs. Change is difficult, particularly when you live with a chronic mental illness, but this blog remained stable. It was one of things I could count on when life seemed to get crazy as it invariably did. I learned more about myself by writing this blog---more about recovering from mental illness--then I have living with it since I was diagnosed at the age of twelve. I also learned more about others. I owe much of this to the wonderful people that have read this blog, who have shared their experiences and made us all feel less alone, and also to healthyplace.com for providing me with the opportunity to delve into issues that are important.

When typing the title of this blog, I immediately picture Jack Nicholson's character in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. The 'crazy' one locked inside the 50's-inspired psychiatric hospital. The character considered less crazy than the rest of the patients. But I'm pretty sure his character---based on the glorious book of the same name---probably thought he was sane.  Sort of like how I think I'm stable when I can't move from bed. Side-Note: Yes, that's a brilliant-in-my-humble-opinion image from the film below. First, an Apology. . .

If there is one thing I can count on in my life it's October. Yes, it's obvious that October arrives each year, but when you live with a mental illness, months can represent moods. And that can be scary. That said, I want to focus this post on a conversation I had with a relative who lives with depression in the summer, and thrives in the winter.

When you are diagnosed with a mental illness, it can feel like your life is suddenly on display. You can feel sort of like an exhibit at a museum - one your family and friends and psychiatrist want to tend to. It's not easy getting used to this, but what about when you encounter people, situations, on your road to recovery that make you feel exposed?

I know--I know--the title of this blog, the entire premise of it, is based on recovering from mental illness. But it is not titled anything along the lines of "How I Recovered From Mental Illness!" So, is full recovery from chronic mental illness possible?

So, you've been diagnosed with a mental illness. Now what? You have--perhaps without much grace but with much persistence--come out on the other side. Life is, presumably, better than it was before the diagnosis. But it isn't easy and you are still trying to figure the whole thing out: medications, your new mental health care team, and the future. On the understanding that we have a future outside of mental illness, and it's important to get on with life, to the best of our abilities.