The word recovery is often socially defined as the achievement of health after a period of illness. Recovery is thought to be consistent and often connected to a physical illness. Recovery, when connected to a chronic mental illness, is different; the word itself holds more weight. The process from sickness to health is not absolute in nature. It is transient, and can change with the seasons or be triggered by life events.

Reader Deanna asked if anyone has ever experienced remission from Dissociative Identity Disorder. If we’re defining remission as a period of diminished, unobtrusive dissociative symptoms – “normal” dissociation, in other words – then I’d wager there are people who have experienced exactly that. But they have worked hard to achieve that degree of integration and awareness. It didn’t happen spontaneously, which is what I suspect most of us with Dissociative Identity Disorder mean when we bring up this idea of remission. And I also suspect it isn’t really integration we’re talking about, but the apparent disappearance of other personality states. I’m guessing plenty of people experience this latter scenario too; but remission it is not.

"I never wanted him to be like me, or to have any power over him. I just wanted him to leave me alone. To be able to get out safely." ~ comment by castorgirl on Motive for Staying in Abusive Relationship Castorgirl's comment bothered me all week. At first I thought it was because she seemed so blind and innocent, unwilling to see the truth. I wanted her to plainly see the hidden dynamics of an abusive relationship. But then in one clear instant, I remembered being castorgirl. I remember when the only thing I wanted was for him to leave me alone (The Invisible Line Between Verbal and Physical Abuse).

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Tomorrow, my children will both go back to school. (Excuse me while I do a little dance and high-five myself for having lived through--and allowed them to live through--this very long summer.) The school supplies are ready, the new clothes are in the washing machine as we speak--all in anticipation of a new school year. "Back to School" night was Monday, and we've already met Bob's fourth-grade teacher and know who his classmates are. We are completely prepared. Or are we?

I went for four months without medical treatment that I received within four days of my transfer to LaRue D. Carter Memorial Hospital. The major difference between the two state hospitals is that LaRue receives some private funding--which made for better conditions.

I was watching TV last night, absentmindedly flipping through the stations, when I settled on an advertisement for Seroquel. The woman in the commercial is flying a kite. She is laughing without abandon. The sun shines just for her and a border collie stands beside her; he smiles with his eyes and wagging tail. In sum: she looks like she just won the lottery. And maybe she has: it seems that Seroquel has made her well. She can fly kites now. Bravo.

I have spent many months of my life with an inability to feel pleasure - this is known as anhedonia. This means that no matter what happened, no matter how great it was, I couldn't feel happy about it. I couldn't feel happy at all. However, there is something I have learned about anhedonia, even without an ability to be happy, I can be thankful.

What don't you have if you're struggling with anxiety? Emotional health. Not the most earth-shattering statement but pertinent, all the same. Do you really know what's missing, though? I'm not always sure.

I struggle with anorexia even now because eating disorders are complex and deadly illnesses. They manifest differently in each individual. For me, anorexia was not about being thin. And yet it was. That is the paradox of anorexia. I was addicted to starving, driven to be thin. I could never be thin enough, and it took years to break the chains of those thoughts. But have I completely broken free?