My Friends Saved Me

In August 2021, after watching my performance deteriorate for months, I decided to quit my full-time government job to deal with burnout and take care of my mental health. Living alone in a basement apartment during the pandemic had made my depression and anxiety worse, and I'd been finding my job increasingly stressful. Leaving without another job lined up was risky, but I felt I had no choice. I'd reached my limit.

I only worked sporadically in the months that followed. On December 31, 2021, unemployed and unwell, I moved to a friend's house in the suburbs of Burlington. I thought I'd only be there for a few weeks while I got myself together. I ended up staying for six months.

I desperately wanted to return to Toronto, where I'd lived for 15 years, but I was having difficulty finding somewhere to crash. I was barely making any money, so I couldn't afford to rent a place. The best I could do was find an apartment-sitting gig for a few weeks in April, then back to Burlington I went.

Unfortunately, the day was coming fast when I needed to move out of my friend's house; she needed the room for a family member. I still had nowhere else to go. My situation felt hopeless. I started getting suicidal thoughts and ended up spending a night in a psychiatric ward in Burlington.

Not long after, however, some friends in Toronto pulled through for me, offering me shelter and employment, and my life took a turn for the better.

Networking Through Social Media Helped Me Find Shelter

Things started looking up after I joined a Facebook group for members of a non-profit organization in Toronto called Workman Arts, which I've been involved with for a long time. I was able to network with fellow artists with lived experience with mental illness, some of whom I'd known for years. I posted about needing a place to stay. Someone immediately invited me to cat-sit for them for a week starting July 13, and I soon had a lead on one or two other apartment-sitting opportunities, too. Finally, I was able to pack up my stuff and return to Toronto.

It's a miracle that I've been able to stay in the city for over four months now. Week after week, fellow artists and past coworkers have offered me a place to stay. I'm currently staying with an old coworker, her husband, and their two cats in downtown Toronto. I've been there for over two months now. I worked with her years ago at an art supply store. I've only had the opportunity to reconnect with her because I was able to get my old job at the art supply store back.

Old Friends Saved Me: They Helped Me Start a New Chapter of My Life

I worked at the art supply store while I was in art school in Toronto, but that was 10 years ago. When I called the store, the manager told me they weren't hiring. I figured I'd stop by the store anyway to introduce myself. I was surprised to see that the manager was one of my favorite coworkers from back in the day.

Thanks to him, I got my job back. Thanks to that job, I was able to reconnect with the coworker I'm staying with now. I'll be forever grateful to my two art supply store angels as well as my amazing friend in Burlington. I may be working a minimum-wage job, living out of suitcases, and sleeping on someone else's couch, but I'm feeling much better now, and that's something that money can't buy. I'm not living alone in a basement apartment anymore, and I have a job where I can dress the way I want, be as loud and silly as I want, and live beyond the confines of a life I felt like I'd inherited. 

I'm forging a path of my own. I wish I knew a way to walk this path that was more financially secure and predictable, but if I knew exactly where I was going and how to get there, I'd probably just be doing what I've always done. I've gone to great lengths to do something new in the name of being happier and living a more authentic life. I finally have that, and I'm willing to fight for it -- with a little help from my friends.

This isn't one of those stock Thanksgiving blogicles where I waste 500 words tossing around washed-up phrases about how "gratitude is an attitude." It's much worse than that. I'm going to try to challenge your notion of gratitude altogether. I said early on in my HealthyPlace journey that I wasn't going to try to convince anyone of anything, but we all knew I was lying. So let me be explicit about this: I want you to leave this post believing that gratitude isn't just for the things in your life that are working. I want you to walk away feeling grateful for the challenges in your life that aren't. 

Why Be Grateful for Your Challenges?

Opposites Don't Attract Each Other; They Create Each Other

If you follow my writing at all, you know I'm a broken record on the concept of duality, but it's for a good reason. Things can only exist in light of their polar opposite. Darkness is understood by the presence of light, life by the presence of death. Something can't exist without nothing, and good requires evil. Reality is built on these opposing forces holding each other up and, indeed, creating each other. If you can swallow this odd pill even for a few hours, the world will look brand new. In the true embrace of duality, resentment, fear, and judgment all fade at the realization that all things have their place. 

Duality, per se, might just blow your socks off, but wait until you apply it to yourself. Everything you think you're not? It's deeply baked into whatever it is you think you are. Your identity requires the things you despise, doubt, or disavow as badly as it requires what you love, believe, and espouse. The odd pill has become a difficult pill, but the medicine is the same. You exist on friction and tension. You are what you aren't. 

Thanking Your Challenges

So what's any of this got to do with Thanksgiving? Well, if you're one of the rare few left in the nation that believes Thanksgiving has symbolic value beyond being the day before Black Friday, then you may actually be inclined to vocalize thankfulness for this and that at some point this week.

When you do, I urge you to consider thanking some of your challenges or even some of the things you think you hate. You might choose your job, your political foes, or your unexpected dentist bill (this one's personal). All of these things that give you headaches and heartburn are making you into what you are. If you can really get down with this, you might even see that the difficulties in your life are the only opportunity you have to move closer to who you'd like to become. Your challenges aren't just a pain in your neck. They're the way forward.      

Getting clean from self-harm isn't easy, and when you're in a dark place, just trying to get better can seem like too much effort for too unlikely a reward. But the work to recover from self-harm is worthwhile—I promise.

Why I Got Clean from Self-Harm

I hurt myself for several years before I decided to get clean from self-harm. It was a decision I made on my own and for myself. No one pushed me into it or even encouraged me because, at that point, nobody else knew what I was doing. But I made the choice anyway, and I even managed to stick to it.

That doesn't mean, however, that I didn't question it. I asked myself, before and many times after, why I was trying when failure seemed an all too possible outcome. 

I knew if I changed nothing, I would only keep getting worse—and I had a pretty bleak theory of how that story would end. So, I decided to try to get better. Even if I failed, after all, at least things would be different—even if only for a little while.

What It's Like to Be Clean from Self-Harm

Now, over a decade later, I'm so grateful to my past self for making that decision. I still have bad days. I still have bad weeks. But I've learned how to weather those days better than I used to, and all of the wonderful things waiting for me on the other side of those storms have proven, over and over again, to be worth fighting for.

I found my reasons in a hug from my mom, the smell of freshly baked bread, and the blue of the sea on a clear summer day—little things, but every one of them is something precious to me, something concrete I can cling to whenever I need an anchor. 

Finding a Reason to Get Clean from Self-Harm

Your reason, or reasons, for getting clean from self-harm may be different from mine. That's okay. It's great, even—the more personal your reasons are, the more effective fuel they will be for your journey.

Your reasons may even change over time. That's okay, too—it's natural for your motivations, as well as your goals, to evolve over the course of your recovery journey.

And if you feel like you don't have a reason, ask yourself—why do you care? If you're wondering whether it's worth it to get better, that means that at least part of you wants to get better; otherwise, you wouldn't be conflicted. Learn to listen to that part. Let yourself dream about how your life would change for the better if you were able to stop hurting yourself. 

Then remind yourself, as often as you need to, that recovery is possible. Even if it doesn't seem worth trying now, take it from me—your future (healthier) self will thank you for the effort.

Facing verbal abuse can be traumatic for anyone, especially when it continues for years, like in my experience. After existing in a world that includes regular abusive treatment, it can be difficult to see past your own painful situation. 

I Couldn't See Past My Pain Amid the Abuse 

When I was deep in the throes of abuse, I found that it took all my energy and mental capacity to get through each day and exist. I had no extra strength to focus on much else outside my situation. Unfortunately, this cycle kept me deep into that situation without looking outward. 

Because I spent my days in a fight, flight, or freeze mode, it was almost impossible to focus my energy elsewhere.¹ This situation made it harder to learn new things while I attended school, complete tasks at work that were necessary, or cultivate friendships. 

Everything seemed harder, and I felt like I would never be one of the lucky ones to find happiness. Unfortunately, that was true for years after I was away from abuse. I couldn't shift my mindset and carried those negative thoughts with me for years. My mental state harmed my life just as much as the abuse did in the past. I was stuck until I could start looking past the pain of what happened to me and start looking forward. 

How I Shifted My Focus to See Past the Pain

Therapy, supportive family and friends, and self-exploration have given me the tools I needed to start shifting my focus from my past pain to new beginnings. It isn't as easy as flipping a light switch, however. I still fall into old habits and dwell on things from the past, but those instances are becoming less frequent. 

Part of shifting my focus went to pouring all my energy into my children. I did everything I could for them. I took them to swimming lessons. I made sure they were in after-school activities they enjoyed. We went on camping trips and had picnics in the park. Focusing on my kids was a way for me to avoid dealing with the anger and hurt I felt as a victim of verbal abuse. 

Beginning to Heal from the Abuse

Although being a mother was everything I had always wanted, I still felt unhappy and unsettled. As much as I enjoy spending time with my kids and doing things with them, they cannot make me happy. That is something I need to do on my own. I had to start focusing outside my negative experiences to find peace in my world. 

Once I began to enjoy things, it became easier to move past the hurt and heal. It's not that I was trying to forget or dismiss what happened to me. Instead, I finally reached a point in my life where I didn't want to wallow in that situation any longer. It brought me no joy. 

I also learned that no one is responsible for keeping me happy or making me feel better. Although my partner does a terrific job of this, I don't depend on him for my happiness.

And part of my healing made me realize that I cannot make someone happy. All those years of my abusers being angry with me for not measuring up or their skewed perception of me is not my fault. Their feelings are their own and out of my control.

So, with ongoing therapy and valuable tools, I am beginning to heal and find the peace I've been looking for my entire life.

Source

1. Harvard Health. (2020, July 6). Understanding the stress response. https://www.health.harvard.edu/staying-healthy/understanding-the-stress-response

When I was a young woman, before my first psychotic episode, I was incredibly independent. I frequently traveled internationally to Egypt and Brazil to visit my parents, who worked overseas. I also took road trips from Seattle to as far as San Diego by myself. Those days of independence are long gone. As someone with a severe mental illness, I need to connect and rely on people more than I ever imagined, but though I have schizophrenia, I am not a burden.

I often read the statement, "You are not a burden," on social media. It would be easy for anyone who needs as much support as I do to think they are a burden, but that's not healthy, helpful, or, more importantly, accurate.

What kind of support do I require? I need the assistance of my medical team (psychiatrist, primary care physician), family, and friends, and I rely on my husband for daily care. My husband accompanies me to my doctor's appointments, monitors my medications, and helps me adhere to a strict sleep and exercise routine. He helps me eat a healthy diet to limit the side effects of antipsychotic medication.

I'm Not a Burden When My Schizophrenia Symptoms Flare

I frequently call my brother when my husband is at work or not in a position to help me, and I have an anxiety attack or other problematic symptoms. My brother has a way of getting me out of my head (making me laugh) and reducing the symptoms that keep me from going about my day. I also have a list of friends I call if my brother is unavailable, and although I don't tell my friends I am symptomatic and need support, talking to them about their lives often takes my mind off what I'm struggling with (at least for a short time). The old cliche that it takes a village to raise a child can be altered slightly in my case to say it takes a village to give me the best shot at enjoying and participating as fully as possible in all the great things about life.

Indeed, I rely heavily on others in all the ways I mentioned and more, but I still don't feel like a burden because no one treats me that way. Those who need the care of others aren't a burden, even if they can't reciprocate. Everyone deserves to receive the care they need, whether from a healthcare provider or friends and family (or both).

Although I never feel like a burden, I have ways to insulate myself from that feeling further. When I can, I center my attention on the needs of others and do things for those around me. For example, when I'm feeling well, I pack my husband his favorite sandwich or ask him if he wants to have one of his favorite take-out meals for dinner. I also do active listening exercises to become a better listener and implement what I learn to hear better what people are trying to say. 

Another simple but easily overlooked way to make others feel good is by remaining grateful for everything people take the time to do for me. I frequently tell the people in my life what I love about them and why I'm so thankful they are in my life. I try never to take the people in my circle for granted. I wouldn't say that my relationships are equal, but they are far from one-sided, which helps me combat the damaging thought of being a burden.

Good day or bad day, being a burden is not true of me, and it's not true of you. 

The combination of confrontation and anxiety is a significant issue for me. We've all had to make that dreaded call to customer service to report an issue. Something has gone wrong, so you're already ticked off, but you do your best to proceed politely. Or, at least, I do. Most times, the issue is resolved quickly and with minimal upset. But then there's that one frustrating experience where nothing goes right, and the resolutions are unacceptable, which triggers so much anxiety that you feel you'll either explode or simply shut down.

The Confrontation that Triggered Anxiety

This past week I downgraded a product I subscribe to from "business" to "premium" due to financial constraints. Before doing so, I got multiple assurances from the company—they only provide digital support via email or live chat—that my information would be intact. I would lose any customizations I made using the business plan, but my data would be fine. Given I only used the business plan for some back-end work and no customizations, I gave them the green light.

After a few days, I went to check on my data. I could tell right away that the downgrade hadn't gone as smoothly as the company said it would. I immediately contacted them through live chat and began the arduous task of explaining my dilemma, their screw-up, actually. 

Already frustrated by having to contact them to fix what had clearly gone wrong, I became riled when they implied that I had been advised that some data would be lost during the downgrade process. In short, they were blaming me. If this wasn't bad enough, they kept apologizing over and over. It didn't help.

I didn't back down. My frustration was now anger, and politeness was off the table. My fingers were bashing letters on my keyboard as I wrote message after message explaining myself to them. They kept asking me to send them a specific issue, and they would correct it, to which I responded that the problems were too many and varied for me to send them piecemeal. The situation worsened with every minute that passed.

Knowing When to Step Away to Calm Anxiety Due to Confrontation

After nearly two hours of trying to rebuild my data, I could feel my anger boil to the point of rage. My stomach churned, I had a headache, I was twitchy and irritable, and my anxiety was through the roof. I became overwhelmed with each chat message exchange. Soon, I could feel my mind detaching from the situation as my psyche prepared itself for a total shutdown.

Thankfully, I don't suffer from a dissociative disorder. However, I experienced symptoms of dissociation during a trauma I suffered last year, though I didn't know it at the time. My therapist helped me understand that dissociation is something the body sometimes does in response to extreme stress.

It was time to listen to my mind and body's reaction to this increasingly taxing confrontation. It was time to step away.

After I calmed down, which didn't take very long, I berated myself:

"How could you let things get so out of hand?"

"Idiot! Why did you let something so unimportant (in the grand scheme of things) get you so riled up?"

Then, I stopped and reminded myself of the positive takeaways:

• I recognized the signs of dissociation and did something about it.
• I controlled the situation by ending the dialog.
• My tolerance for situations such as these has increased substantially. 
• My resilience in being able to bounce back so quickly was something to be proud of. 

This experience reminded me that my anxiety is always there. It is well managed, thankfully, but the next trigger might pop up anywhere at any time. Thanks to therapy and the hard work I've done and continue to do, I am better equipped to handle what may come.

Did you know that the most helpful treatment for borderline personality disorder (BPD) is age? According to a 16-year-long study, 88 percent of patients no longer met the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders criteria for BPD after eight years, while 99 percent remitted after 16 years.¹ I just turned 30 myself, and my BPD symptoms have greatly improved over the past 12 years. This is my experience with BPD since becoming an adult.

My Experience with BPD Age 18-25

I sometimes describe myself in my early adult years as a raging borderline. I was explosive and defensive and in love with falling in love. One moment I needed my partner, or I’d die, and the next, I detested them. I cycled through partners, friends, and states, eventually moving countries. I was incredibly unfulfilled and didn’t understand why the world despised me so fiercely.

No one could control me, and I was proud of that. I would intentionally seek out dangerous situations because they were entertaining.

To name just a few of my typical thrills:

• Hyper-promiscuous, unsafe sexual encounters
• Purposeful addiction to substances such as nicotine
• Pushing my body to the limit with alcohol, pills, hallucinogens, and other substances

My Experience with BPD Age 25-30

As I aged into my mid-20s, I did start to calm down a bit. It’s hard to know whether it was due to my environment, age, or perhaps a combination of both. By the time I was 25, I had moved to Denmark and started college. I still partied hard when I could and struggled with maintaining relationships. Still, university offered me the opportunity to throw myself into something.

I lead a double life in college. On the one hand, my educational career was exceptional, but everything else in my life was dysfunctional. I volunteered in a social development project and put on female political empowerment workshops in a refugee camp in the Sahara Desert. But at the same time, I was homeless and ate nothing but oats and water in an attempt to afford tuition.

As I aged out of university and into my late 20s, my BPD symptoms began improving. I was burned out and suffered from major depression; however, I became interested in who I was and put effort into being authentic rather than mirroring others. I also stopped partying, maintained longer friendships, and became less reactive and defensive.

Though my symptoms were improving, I still experienced severe suicidal ideation. Finally, as I entered my late 20s, I resolved to get the mental health help I needed.

My Experience with BPD at Age 30

I count myself incredibly lucky that I never caught a sexually transmitted infection, went to jail, overdosed, or died by suicide. I’m not sure if it was the people, the country, or my age, but I stand here today at 30 to report that it really did get increasingly better—even if the process was mind-numbingly slow.

How have your BPD symptoms changed over time? Let me know in the comments.

Source

1. Zanarini, M. C., Frankenburg, F. R., Reich, D. B., & Fitzmaurice, G. (2012). Attainment and Stability of Sustained Symptomatic Remission and Recovery Among Patients With Borderline Personality Disorder and Axis II Comparison Subjects: A 16-Year Prospective Follow-Up Study. American Journal of Psychiatry, 169(5), 476–483. https://doi.org/10.1176/appi.ajp.2011.11101550

Most of my thoughts and beliefs about recovery focus on what I can integrate into my routine to help me change harmful patterns. I practice observing my patterns, which manifest in many ways. I observe how I react to stress, how I listen and respond to others, and how I think about myself and others. This is a lot to observe and try to change, and lately, I'm narrowing my focus on my ability to show myself compassion in recovery.

Self-Compassion During Eating Disorder Recovery

Self-compassion in eating disorder recovery is uncomfortable and also a healing balm to the wounds inflicted by disordered eating. Why is that? The nature of an eating disorder is, in my experience, patterns and habits that are difficult to change. I'd know better, and yet I'd keep binge eating, and I wanted so badly to change.

Self-compassion is difficult and important. We, ourselves, are the only ones who know the full story of our internal experiences. If I respond to a situation with compassion for myself, I'm throwing myself my own rope to crawl out of a pit so I can make the next best decision for myself. I don't want to feel more guilt and pain, so I am learning how to not shame or guilt myself about something I did that is now in the past. 

When I was in a cycle of binge eating and restrictive eating, each time I tried to stop binge eating and then did it anyways, it felt like my own worst failure. Cycle after cycle, the feeling of failure and disgust expanded and deepened. When I began the recovery process, I strove to be done with disordered eating and resolve my problems without any more slips. This striving for perfection inevitably brings suffering when I do struggle. 

Self-Compassion in Action During Recovery

Self-Compassion is a beautiful idea, but how can you apply this idea so that it can actually help with recovery?

• Do one small thing -- When was the last time you did something to be intentionally kind to yourself? Make a list of little things that bring joy into your life, and then try to gift yourself a little time to do one thing on that list. It does not have to be a grand gesture or an expensive purchase. Aim for one small thing a day.
• Reset your plan -- When you struggle, it can be helpful to already have a plan in place, as if you are your own emergency contact. After a binge, what is the first thing you are going to do? You could write a list on paper or keep a running list in your head of the things that help you feel supported and cared about after a binge.
• Find an affirmation -- Choose a positive affirmation or a phrase that reminds you to be self-compassionate when you notice you are suffering. Some phrases I use are, "I am attempting something difficult, and I appreciate myself for trying," "I am perfect as I am," and "I am choosing to let go of my self-judgment now."
• Try a self-compassion reset -- When you notice you are in a cycle of negative thinking about yourself, take a few breaths, and name the emotion you are feeling. Think about how this emotion is universal in human beings. Try to practice a moment of self-compassion. It takes courage to be alive in the world.

I hope these tips and ideas inspire you to try experimenting with self-compassion. As I've been practicing self-compassion, I've noticed I have been trying more new things, feeling more joy, and recovering quicker from difficult days. I hope the same for you.

With the holiday rush approaching, I sometimes catastrophize everything that can go wrong while working in retail. My anxiety makes it difficult to enjoy life. But last week, taking a much-needed vacation helped me find joy and relaxation. My mother and I took a holiday-themed bus tour to Dollywood. We didn’t have to pack food or book the hotel, as that was done by the tour company. To learn about how the trip helped me find joy, continue reading this post.

How I Found Joy While Vacationing

1. I felt a sense of community. Before my trip, I honestly wasn’t in the mood to be social. I was hoping that the tour group would be small. But when my mom and I arrived at the bus station, more than 40 other people were traveling with us. At first, the crowded coach bus was overwhelming. Also, I felt a little awkward being the youngest person there by 20 years. But I quickly found that the other tourists were very nice. They also had interesting stories to share. Their enthusiasm for the trip energized and relaxed me simultaneously.
    
2. Discovering the South opened my mind to travel. Growing up in the Midwest, I often felt like people were in a hurry all the time. Many of them seemed rude and entitled. Perhaps it was the nice weather, the novelty of Dollywood, or the Southern hospitality, but Tennessee seemed so much more inviting. I wanted to stay there longer. The pleasant culture made me realize that despite facing the anxiety of the unknown, visiting new places could hold nice surprises.
    
3. I gained a greater appreciation for Dolly Parton. Before visiting Dollywood, I didn’t know much about Dolly Parton. All I knew was that she was a gorgeous country star. But as my mother and the other tourists talked about her “rags to riches” story and her pride in her family, I wanted to learn more about her. So, I started watching her interviews with Jimmy Fallon. Dolly is an example of a genuine, humble, funny, and down-to-earth celebrity. She also promotes education for underprivileged children, and she donates a lot of money to charities. I admire her kindness and passion for education.
    
4. My fear of weight gain decreased. Part of the tour package included several meals provided by the tour company. During the two-day bus ride to Tennessee, I ate at several fast-food restaurants and a hotel while passing through Kentucky. The group stayed at three hotels in total. All of them provided buffets. Also, I indulged in ribs and fried chicken from restaurants that do not exist near my home. In the past, I felt ashamed of myself for gaining weight by binge eating. But during this vacation, I had so much fun that I didn’t have much time to think about my food consumption or my weight.
    
5. I felt grateful for the experiences with my mom. My mom was beyond generous in paying for this trip as a Christmas present. She values new adventures and education while traveling. Having been to the Dollywood Theme Park before, she loved it so much that she wanted me to enjoy it as well. In addition to Dollywood, the tour involved a trip to the Biltmore Mansion. I learned about the history and marveled at the beautiful architecture. At the end of the trip, I looked forward to reminiscing with my mom and sharing my experiences with friends and coworkers.

When I had nothing but my mental health struggles, I had writing. I had no answers. I had no knowledge of how to fix or stop my pain. I only had emotions simultaneously carving out and bursting from my aching chest, so I tried to put them into words. In doing so, without knowing it, I was writing my way to recovery.

Finding Recovery in Different Forms of Writing

I’ve often talked about journaling as something that helped me greatly in recovery, and that’s no less true today than any other time I’ve mentioned it. Journaling allowed me to siphon that ache from within and pour it out onto a page, and suddenly chaos in my head became something I could sift through, see patterns in, and understand. (Or at least I could understand it better.)

My writing has never been pigeonholed to one form, style, or genre. Long before I was journaling my way through my mental illnesses, I was pouring my feelings out in poetry and venting my turmoil through short stories. As much as it falls into the cliché of a teenager writing sad poems and stories, it was my outlet at the time.

Then I shifted how I was channeling my struggles. Candidly writing about my experiences, especially with skin picking disorder, put me on the path to recovery. From blogging on my social channels to blogging on other platforms to compiling an anthology that included my story of growing up with skin-picking disorder, I was putting my writing out into the world. The more rawness in my words, the more the walls of isolation, stigma, and negativity broke down.

Breaking Down Walls with Words

Breaking down those walls through words—no matter what form, style, or genre—allowed me to see beyond the chaos that was otherwise my reality. I’ve loved writing since I was a kid, so although I never consciously conceptualized writing as a pathway for recovery, I’m not surprised it turned out this way. Clearly, this is how I process, and this is how I make the world, including my internal one, make sense.

To my fellow writers, to the people for whom words mean the world as much as they mean shaping it, if you’re struggling with your mental health, try writing about what you’re going through. Whatever form you choose for it, getting what’s going on in your head out on the page may be just what you need to start on the path to recovery from your mental health struggles.