Blogs
Have you ever wondered whether your burning desire to shop has a link to depression? Well, you may be right. Read on to know if excessive spending is a sign of depression.
Borderline personality disorder (BPD) affects me in many ways. If you really know me -- we're talking roommates and family -- you'd catch onto the petulance, those bursts of childlike fury that bubble up out of nowhere. On the outside, borderline personality disorder has me spinning with emotions, intense reactions, and a sprinkle of unpredictability. However, what seems to be a mood affliction is actually a batch of survival tactics that collectively comprise the framework of my personality. Read on to learn how BPD really affects me.
I recently came across an article online that made a point that thinking about food in terms of body fuel can be harmful to those in eating disorder recovery. I agree with this premise to a certain extent. As someone who has dealt with anorexia for over 15 years, I understand how viewing food only as a basic, utilitarian mechanism to keep internal organs operational can reinforce the binary mindset an eating disorder often thrives on. A balanced, healthy relationship with food encourages pleasure and satisfaction as well. But I do not believe it's helpful to reject "food is fuel" as a concept altogether. Personally, I love the reminder that food is fuel — here's why.
I realize I need to be my own hero, but it's hard. As someone with a highly self-critical brain and a history of trauma and posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD), I often struggle to take control of my own healing. In my experience, it's tempting to turn to others during difficult moments (which is completely okay and necessary sometimes) rather than turning inward and finding my own resilience. Self-sabotage takes merit over self-love and self-care, and before I know it, I'm spiraling into anxiety and grief, looking elsewhere for someone to do the work for me — to be my hero.
I'm coping with grief in sobriety. Years before I got sober, I sat in church basements and listened to folks talk about the pink cloud. They claimed that by removing alcohol and other substances from their lives, they suddenly viewed the world through rose-colored glasses. The pink cloud of sobriety is supposed to feel euphoric and sparkly. But for me, the opposite was true. If anything, sobriety has been a grief journey accompanied by a rollercoaster of intense emotions.
Severe or otherwise, dealing with brain fog as part of COVID-19 while preventing the spread of the virus requires diligence and effort when we don't feel like doing anything other than resting and recovering. How can we stay optimistic and motivated while dealing with brain fog and illness and waiting for wellness to return?
My husband, Tom, and I are celebrating our 15th wedding anniversary in September. He’s been very supportive of me in my struggle with schizoaffective disorder and anxiety every step of the way since we met. Today, I'd like to celebrate my husband.
For me, self-love is part of healing after verbal abuse. Individuals who experience verbal abuse may have low self-esteem, which can trickle into other areas of life. Without healthy confidence, people may neglect to care for themselves or regularly put themselves second to others. Understanding how to reintroduce healing self-care and self-love into your life can be challenging after breaking free from verbal abuse.
It's difficult to know the difference between introversion and social anxiety. When I was younger, I considered myself to be a shy person. However, I also knew I was an introvert and that I struggled with anxiety. Unfortunately, this also contributed to difficulties that I experienced in social situations and missing out on opportunities.
Recovery from addiction includes fear of the unknown, which creates skewed internal messaging. Challenging these feelings for validity is the best way to uncover their reason. After the haze of alcohol disappears, we face many complicated emotions, and our pesky brain will try to regress into old thinking. This skews whether these assumptions are valid -- all it takes is some self-evaluation to sort out which fears in recovery are false.
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