Mental illness recovery looks nothing like I expected it would. Talk of recovery painted pictures of cures for mental illness that removed all struggle from my life and made everything—and I mean everything—better. What I’ve found is that recovery is different from that perception, and the truth is I’m okay with that.

Mental Illness Recovery Expectations Versus Reality

The beauty of what I’ve found mental illness recovery to really be like is while it’s different than my expectations, I’ve still gotten (most of) what I was actually seeking beyond the surface-level description of “better.”

This might be clearer if I break it down.

What I get out of my mental illness recovery

• My mental illnesses don’t impact me as much anymore.
• I’m no longer ashamed of having mental illnesses.
• I’m able to live a full and satisfying life even though I still have my mental illnesses.

When it boils down to it, those are the things I wanted when I was looking for cures or ways to erase my struggles from my life. I wanted to alleviate the impact my mental health struggles had on me, I wanted to stop feeling ashamed and stop hating myself for having these illnesses, and I wanted to be able to live—to truly live, not just exist.

What’s different about mental illness recovery than I expected

• I still have depression, anxiety, and excoriation (skin-picking) disorder.
• I still have bad days (plenty of them) that can leave me struggling to function.
• I accept and don’t feel the need to get rid of my illnesses anymore.
• I’m okay with talking about having these illnesses even though I still actively deal with them.

The way I see it, recovery is presented as this idea of complete erasure of mental illnesses (expectation). Instead of efforts to work with what we’ve got and address it that way, it’s about cutting away the struggle as if it was never a part of us and didn’t change us in any way. 

The truth (reality) is that mental illness changes us emotionally, mentally, and even physically, so we can’t just pull it out and chuck it as if it never existed.

Mental Illness Recovery Gave Me My Life Back

Is the way I experience recovery better or worse than what I expected? I can’t actually say. I’ve never had a taste of the vision of recovery we’re presented with, after all.

What I can say is that this version of recovery works for me. If a better version does come along, that’s awesome, but until then, I’m happy with mental illness recovery that’s given me my life back.

Living with mental illness for many years, learning to love myself has been an ongoing challenge. I've read many books on the topic and discussed it with many therapists, but the key to self-love has remained a mystery. Something I didn't take enough notice of, however, was the fact that I've spent years not doing the things I love the most.

Self-Love Grows When You Do What You Love

In 2021, I made the radical decision to leave my nine-to-five life to attend to my mental health and devote more time and energy to my writing. Doing so helped me realize that writing is the greatest love of my life, and spending more time doing it expanded my capacity to love my life and myself.

Check out this short video on self-love and doing what you love.

See Also

• Find Joy in Life and Do the Things You Love
• Doing What You Love Beats Depression

Mental health stigma in the workplace is often overlooked. We are fortunate to live in an increasingly wellness-driven world where it's easier to identify institutions that fall short in the fight for mental health acceptance and wellness. How are companies falling short, and how are some raising the bar? And how, as a workforce, can we continue to push progress?

Mental Health at Work Post-Pandemic

It's no secret that mental health stigma in the workplace exists. In light of the COVID-19 pandemic, however, many employers are beginning to acknowledge and, even better, prioritize employee mental health. "A New Era for Mental Health at Work," published in the Harvard Business Review, sums it up nicely:

"In 2020, mental health support went from a nice-to-have to a true business imperative. Fast forward to 2021, and the stakes have been raised even higher thanks to a greater awareness of the workplace factors that can contribute to poor mental health, as well as heightened urgency around its intersections with DEI."¹

Let's unpack this quote. Although the COVID-19 pandemic increased mental health struggles among employees, it also presented an opportunity to normalize the topic. Suddenly, employers started implementing "mental health days" and prioritizing mental health awareness. My company even has an employee resource group dedicated to mental health--and you guessed it, I'm a member. 

With all the progress companies are making towards a more inclusive and conscious work environment, mental health stigma continues to be a barrier in the workplace. A November 2022 Kaiser Permanente survey indicated an astonishing

"65 percent of missed workdays can be attributed to mental health conditions."² 

Although some companies, like my own, are making tremendous progress, we are only as strong as our weakest link. There is still more work to be done. How can employers and employees do their part to mitigate mental health stigma?

How Managers Can Decrease Mental Health Stigma at Work

Managers can set the tone for what is expected and acceptable within their teams. "With great power comes great responsibility." 

Managers must step up and lead with tolerance. According to the Harvard Business Review, here's how:³

• Model healthy behavior through prioritizing self-care and setting work-life boundaries to set a precedent for subordinates to follow. Normalization counteracts stigma.
• Build a culture of connecting through regular check-ins. For example, I check in with my manager every month and my direct supervisor daily.
• Look into modifying existing policies and practices. As illustrated by the statistic regarding missed workdays due to mental health conditions, companies may need to adapt to changing times by taking a deeper look into flexible work hours, paid and unpaid leave, and time off.

How Employees Can Decrease Mental Health Stigma at Work

As direct reports, we, too, can combat mental health stigma in the workplace. As I mentioned, I joined my company's regional mental health resource group and now participate in mental wellness events and discussions. If this is not available, think about starting one at your company.

Participate in or start a book club. I highly recommend Think Like a Monk by Jay Shetty. The book examines mental wellness and monk practices that can do wonders for overall wellness and groundedness.

A little can go a long way if everyone pitches in a bit of time, compassion, and acceptance. The opportunities are endless, and the best part is we can start implementing these changes today.

Decreasing mental health stigma in the workplace is far from a quick fix, but progress is being made. In the words of the late great Nipsey Hussle, until every employer and employee embodies mental health consciousness, "the marathon continues." 

Sources

1. Greenwood, K., & Anas, J. (2021, November 15). It’s a New Era for Mental Health at Work. Harvard Business Review. https://hbr.org/2021/10/its-a-new-era-for-mental-health-at-work

2. Mordecai, D. M.D (2022, November 30). Mental Health at Work - Exploring Wellness Issues | Kaiser Permanente. Business Health Care | Choose Better | Kaiser Permanente. https://business.kaiserpermanente.org/insights/mental-health-workplace

3. Krol, N., & Greenwood, K. (2021, August 31). 8 Ways Managers Can Support Employees’ Mental Health. Harvard Business Review. https://hbr.org/2020/08/8-ways-managers-can-support-employees-mental-health

I have schizoaffective disorder, and I am very socially awkward. I don’t know if my schizoaffective disorder is what makes me feel that way.

Medication for Schizoaffective Disorder Made Me Socially Awkward

I do know that, at one time, the medication I took for my schizoaffective disorder increased the experiences that made me feel socially awkward. I was overmedicated, and I was mostly silent in social situations until I would just blurt out statements that were often inappropriate or had nothing to do with the conversation the people around me were having.

One time, I was at a party with some family friends, and the discussion was about one woman’s deceased son. Even though I had been close friends with him, the only thing I could think to say was that he had thrown up in my car once. The room went silent. A few minutes later, embarrassed about my faux pas, I told his mother it was like having a rock star puke in my car. This was not an exaggeration; her son had been a rock star to me. But I’m not sure the added comment made her feel any better.

Since my medication made me socially awkward, I changed it a few times until I got the right mix. Until then, I went through a phase of bringing up illicit drugs in conversation whenever possible. This was strange for me since I didn’t do illicit drugs. But when I realized how uncomfortable it was making the people around me, I stopped.

The puzzling thing about all this is that I still dated a lot until I met my husband. But now I have very few friends. I’m still in contact with some old friends but haven’t made new friends in years--I’m talking almost 20 years.

I’m Socially Awkward Because I Don’t Like Meeting New People

A big part of the problem is that I just don’t like meeting new people. COVID didn’t help--when I used to go for walks, I considered strangers that passed by “harbingers of death.” Even now, when I pass by people who are smiling, I think they’re laughing at me, or at best, I wonder what they have to be so happy about.

Another reason I don’t like meeting new people is that they don’t feel “safe” to me. My family, and especially my husband, make up a circle of people who are my safe people. A few friends fall into the category of safe people as well. I have one friend who moved to the West Coast, but we’ve literally been friends since we were five--how could she not be one of my safe people?

So, I may be socially awkward, but I’m blessed to be surrounded by family and friends who love me and whom I love. As I said, I don’t know if my schizoaffective disorder is what makes me socially awkward. But I don’t think it helps.

Recently, I've had to visit doctors regarding my physical health. Usually, I am fine with these mundane appointments, but one particular incident left me shaken and upset. However, it wasn't because I wasn't prepared or something went wrong. Instead, I felt unseen, unheard, and minimized by how the specialist talked to me during my visit.

My Abusive Past Affects Me Even Though I'm Good at Recognizing Triggers 

I was to see a specialist I had never met at this specific doctor's appointment. I was nervous since it was a procedure that was previously unknown to me, and I felt my anxiety rise as the date got closer. I reached out to the office with my concerns and was assured that there would be a consultation before the procedure and I could bring a support person if needed.

This clarity helped ease my mind as I petitioned a friend to make the trip to the doctor's office with me. I knew that things I couldn't control or the unknown created great anxiety for me, so I was doing everything I could to manage these triggers. 

My Abusive Past Affects My Vulnerability and Ability to Read Cues

Unfortunately, once I arrived at my medical appointment, I was met with resistance immediately as my support person accompanied me. Thankfully, we both professed that I had already cleared it with the office staff to have someone present with me during the procedure. 

The entire appointment seemed too rushed for me, as I was under the impression that I would get to talk about the procedure before it happened. My anxiety heightened as I kept asking questions and prolonging the doctor's tasks. Then, the specialist met me with some resistance that immediately put me into flight mode. The specialist's comments made me feel unworthy and like I didn't know or understand anything, and I was making a big deal out of nothing. 

My support partner was there by my side as I cried, and she reiterated that I needed time to talk about the procedure and not rush through the appointment. Ultimately, I felt like the doctor was gaslighting me, minimizing my fears, dismissing my anxiety, and trying to push me through something I needed more time to process. 

Recovery Is a Slow Process

After leaving my appointment, I can see now how my verbal abuse past still affects routine activities, like doctor's appointments. Although it may not be a common occurrence, it does still happen when I face a professional who is short or dismissive with me, bringing back those feelings that I thought were gone. 

Recovering from verbal abuse is not quick or static. You may feel fine for weeks, months, or even years. However, you may still face an individual who resurrects these emotions of vulnerability and spirals you back into your past. It's important to recognize that this is a normal healing process, and working through each instance as they come can help you move forward to a better, healthier future. 

Not everyone who self-harms does so out of anger. Even when self-injury is fueled by rage, participating in self-inflicted violence doesn't automatically make you a violent or aggressive person.

Self-Inflicted Violence Doesn't Make You Aggressive

I can't speak for everyone who self-harms, but I can speak for myself. There were times when I was truly furious—at myself, the world, or both—when I hurt myself. Sometimes, I let the rage take charge. I won't go into detail, but the point is I could be pretty vicious to myself.

But self-inflicted violence isn't necessarily a sign that you're becoming a violent person overall, even if you hurt yourself out of anger. Yes, I lashed out sometimes—but only with words. I was hurting. It's not uncommon or unnatural to lose your temper when you're in a bad headspace. I never lashed out in a physical sense when I was self-harming, nor have I done so since.

Physically lashing out isn't that uncommon, either, depending on several situational factors—not the least of which would be the severity of your actions. There's a wide gulf between punching a pillow and punching a person, for example. I would go so far as to argue that even an isolated incident or two wouldn't necessarily mean you're generally violent, though, at the very least, it would be a red flag that you need some extra emotional support (sooner rather than later).

In short, hurting yourself doesn't automatically make you more likely to hurt other people or act more aggressively toward others.

Understanding Self-Inflicted Violence

The thing is, self-inflicted violence is a bit of a misleading term. Self-harm isn't necessarily savage or brutal; some acts of self-injury are quite subtle and relatively minor in severity, at least in a physical sense. Emotionally, of course, any kind of self-harm is a significant warning sign that all is not well and that help is likely needed to make things better.

For myself and many others, self-harm isn't an act of aggression so much as an act of desperation. It can be punishing, yes, but it can also be rewarding—or at the very least, a relief. This is one reason why so many people find it hard to stop once they've started. Our brains play a trick on us that convinces us self-harm is the only way we can feel better, and the longer we rely on it, the harder it can be to believe that there are other—much better—options.

So if you're worried that engaging in self-inflicted violence will make you, or someone you love, more aggressive, know that this will not necessarily be the case. Instead, I urge you to focus on the more important concern here—self-harm itself. However you or your loved one may feel about the matter, know that self-injury is never the best solution. Self-harm recovery is always possible.

If you need convincing, feel free to leave a comment down below. I read—and do my best to respond to—every single message.

I have three children -- two daughters and a son. They're adults now with busy lives and stresses of their own. My adult children are exceptional individuals. I love and respect them as I know they love and respect me. Why, then, do I get anxious when I need or want to speak to them, ask them about their lives, or talk about something important to me?

My Anxiety Asks, 'Why Do My Adult Kids Keep Me at Arm's Length?'

Being born and raised in the '60s, kids were better seen, not heard. It was a time of corporal punishment, dispensed at home and in the classroom, and respect for your elders was demanded. Good behavior was rarely recognized because it was expected. If rules were broken, punishments were doled out swiftly with the textbook admonishment of, "I hope you learned your lesson." Our feelings weren't considered, and speaking our thoughts was a no-no.

Behaviors and attitudes had drastically changed by the time my husband and I had our kids in the late '80s and early '90s. Eager to do things differently than our parents and their parents before them, we raised our children to be respectful while also being strong-minded and curious. We taught them to push boundaries and question the status quo, even at home. We raised them to be independent thinkers, to stand up to injustice, and to exercise empathy.

Upon reflection, it seems like a pretty good upbringing. At least it does to me, a kid who wasn't even allowed to ask, "Why?"

But it seems that how we raised our kids, with the encouragement and freedom to think and feel out loud, may have instilled a certain apathy in them. Not towards other people necessarily, but toward us—their parents—insomuch as they seem indifferent to what we have to offer. They keep us at arm's length.

Anxiety in Relationships with Adult Children

When I was a similar age with a young family and stresses of my own, I listened when my mother and father spoke to me. Their experience and wisdom commanded attention. While I may not have agreed with their perspectives and sometimes secretly rolled my eyes at their old-fashioned values and approach, I deferred to them. I gave them the metaphorical floor.

It is not so today.

I feel that this generation's adult children—the less than 40-somethings—have much less tolerance for what parents have to say.

When one of my adult children shares an experience, I must cleverly reverse-engineer my response so as not to steal their thunder. In as straightforward a way as possible, I relay my disguised expertise and am still sometimes met with, "This isn't about you, Mom."

It's become a very "I might come to you if I need you and don't tell me how it is or was for you unless I ask you" kind of existence, which makes for a one-sided, walking-on-eggshells relationship. As a mom, this is very hard.

It's not disrespect, although sometimes it can come off that way. Instead, it's like a lack of appreciation for my (parental) experience and knowledge coupled with little or no desire to entertain my thoughts and ideas.

Casual conversation is easy. Talking about the grandkids is a piece of cake. But broaching a subject with substance with my kids can be a source of anxiety. Here are some of the thoughts I have:

"I don't want to insinuate myself where I'm not wanted or needed."

"Why won't she talk to me? Is it something I've done or said?"

"I don't want to trigger him."

"How will he percieve my questions and comments?"

"If I share my experience without prompting by her, will I be accused of making her situation about me?

"If I tell her I miss her, will she call me needy again?

"If I share how I'm feeling, and I cry, will he think—'There goes Mom, swimming in her emotion pool again.'"

While I know of at least three other moms my age with adult children who claim to have similar feelings, I realize that my generalized anxiety amplifies how I feel and react.

I will still question why my kids communicate with me the way they do—or don't, as the case may be. Maybe it's not apathy at all. Perhaps it's because we live in a time of information overload. Why rely on a parent's wisdom when a dozen YouTube and TikTok videos by perfect strangers can validate your experience and provide reliable solutions to similar issues? Perhaps it's because psychotherapy is more readily accepted and available. Who knows?

For now, I remain steadfast in my desire to be there for my kids if and when they need me. With the help of my therapist, I hope to better understand where my insecurities come from and replace my anxious thoughts with more adaptive ones, the most significant thought being:

"I am enough."

When people commit to a program of self-improvement, we call it progress. When people commit to executing this program on January 1, we call it a New Year's Resolution. For many, excitement surrounds the making and thinking of these resolutions. For people affected with adult attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), feelings can be mixed.

I've made many New Year's Resolutions in the past. I've vowed to get fitter, get more skills, get more sleep, and get better. Like billions of other people, I've been excited in December at the thought of an imminent January, a January that is bound to be more prosperous and enriching thanks to all these resolutions.

However, as someone with ADHD, it's easy for me to go overboard on the resolutions. Instead of vowing to change a few cosmetic parts of a decent life, I've often rolled out the vellum paper and drawn a comprehensive blueprint for an entirely new life — razing the current one to the ground in the process.

ADHD Makes Resolutions Difficult

So enamored at the prospect of making a New Year's Resolution, I've often imagined affecting fantastical changes. These changes would start in January, build throughout the year, and continue apace to the following December, at which point only minor tweaks and changes would be needed.

This rush to make a glut of seismic changes is a consequence of two things. One, my ADHD predisposes me to fixate on novelty. That means I used to get a rush just thinking about living a new and improved life without ever having to make it a reality. Two, previous iterations of me have required a root-and-branch change.

However, here's the problem: this combination of needing to change and trying to make too many changes isn't conducive to success. Before I was medicated, I simply couldn't do a fraction of the things I needed to do in order to make positive, lasting changes. In a cruel twist, I'd start making changes, realize the magnitude of the situation, and--in short order-- watch my positive actions and good intentions vaporize as I settled back into an underwhelming life with an untreated condition.

My Resolution for 2023 Is Simple

So, my New Year's Resolution for 2023 isn't about climbing Everest in a pair of shorts. My resolution for 2023 is to continue doing the handful of things that bring me happiness. I'll write, exercise, and make daily efforts to become a better poker player.

Symptoms of exhaustion and burnout can be obvious or subtle during binge eating disorder (BED) recovery, especially during the holidays. It's important to recognize your signs of burnout so you can navigate stressful times without neglecting to take care of yourself.

Symptoms of burnout might surface as sadness, anxiety, or detachment from the people around you. You might feel like you have no time or energy to do what you want. Maybe you notice you've lost hope or enthusiasm about recovering from an eating disorder.

I've noticed when I am starting to get burnt out; I tend to get sick. I lose the energy to do my normal routine for several days. I start sleeping in, canceling plans, or overeating to comfort myself. This sudden change gives me more time to rest, which is what I needed before the burnout set in. 

Burnout and Binge Eating Recovery

We're amid the holiday season, and I need to set realistic expectations for this time of year to avoid burning out and losing positive momentum in eating disorder recovery. 

In past years, the emotions that come up during this season when I visit family bring up old habits of turning to food for comfort. If I have no energy to focus on finding other ways to acknowledge my feelings, then I set myself up to struggle. I must anticipate the stresses that will come up and make a stress-relief plan for myself in advance. Often, this includes saying no to extra obligations when I know I'm overloaded.

In this video, I introduce the strategy of anticipating burnout and acting before burnout sets in. 

I've had a busy schedule in my work and personal life. I have noticed that when my schedule becomes so busy, I often find that my anxiety worsens. Because of this, I need to take steps to calm myself during these busy times.

Why Being Busy Makes Me Anxious

This was something I began to recognize throughout the years, but it became critical to address when I noticed that my anxiety was related to health issues. The work I do, though, is very important to me, so it also became important that I figure out how to cope with this anxiety.

I've had to really pay attention to my thought process when I feel anxious. It sometimes starts with thinking about things that I'm responsible for and things in my schedule that are coming up. And then this will also lead to obsessively checking my calendar and reviewing what I've organized for myself.

But I've also noticed that this anxiety is related to perfectionist standards. I tend to set extremely high standards for a lot of the things that I work on and accomplish in life, and when I don't reach the expectations I have for myself, I feel anxious. Constantly thinking about these standards leads me to feel greatly overwhelmed.

Ways to Deal with Anxiety Because of a Busy Schedule

And so, to maintain a busy schedule and juggle several responsibilities on my plate, it's been vital for me to identify ways to stay calm and cope with my anxiety to prevent me from feeling terribly overwhelmed.

One of the strategies that I use is blocking out time to deal with things. I block out time not only for meetings, presentations, etc., but I also block out time to deal with specific tasks. And I take those blocks of time very literally. For example, if I am planning to work on a specific project, and perhaps it is a project that I am worried about, I only allow myself to think and worry about it during the block of time I set aside for it on my calendar. This takes some practice, but it has been effective for me.

I also use mindfulness techniques to help me stay grounded. This involves simply focusing on what is in front of me at the moment and refraining from allowing my thoughts to drift towards worry about the future or thinking about the past. This keeps me from spiraling deeper into anxiety.

Lastly, I've noticed that the self-care strategies that I have been working on have been helpful. Focusing on exercise, nutrition, sleep, and other areas of self-care has been vital in helping me keep my anxiety at bay. This also includes taking time out for me to do things that I enjoy and being intentional about building resilience.

What strategies do you use to help you lessen anxiety related to a busy schedule? Please share them in the comments below.