One concept that’s helped me a lot in recovery from mental illness is this: recovery is not linear. It seems simple, but understanding this helps me be aware that the recovery process may have peaks and valleys. It also helps me be aware of the changes that bring on peaks and valleys, like big life changes.

How Big Life Changes Can Impact Mental Health Recovery

This year, I had a big life change: my long-time boyfriend and I got our first apartment together. There was a lot of adjusting for me from a mental health perspective, like grieving leaving my cat behind at my mom’s and just the general anxiety of adjusting to a new space and a new lifestyle. Even though this was something I’d long been looking forward to, it hit me harder than I expected.

I’ve been in a state of recovery with my anxiety and depression for a good while. Still, these life changes impacted that. Thankfully, anxiety and depression didn’t overtake me too much, and I’ve been okay since. But it got me thinking: we often think of big changes as detrimental to the progress we’ve made.

In the video below, I discuss this in more detail, including how big life changes might be positive for your mental health recovery.

Accepting that Mental Health Recovery Is Not Linear Helps Me Cope with Big Changes

Acceptance is a big piece of my recovery process and even how I exist with my mental illness. Still, it wasn’t until I got to thinking about how my acceptance of mental health recovery is non-linear that I realized the role it plays. Because I accept that recovery isn’t linear, when a low point in recovery does come along, I can focus on whatever is happening instead of thinking that it might destroy my recovery. As far as I’m concerned, it won’t.

Big Life Changes Are Inevitable But Don’t Have to Derail Mental Health Recovery

If there’s one thing I hope you take away from this blog post, it’s that big life changes — or any changes in general — don’t have to derail your mental health recovery. Changes bring discomfort and uncertainty, true, but they can also be positive. Even if they’re not positive, you can still work through them and get through them without completely undoing the work you’ve done.

Welcome to a syndication of Snap Out of It! The Mental Illness in the Workplace Podcast with Natasha Tracy.

This week, Snap Out of It! talks about attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) and binge eating disorder (BED) at work with Jason Hamburg. Jason is the Vice President of Neuroscience at Takeda Canada Inc. Jason wasn’t diagnosed with a mental illness until he was 44 years old, and he can attest to the fact that while he dealt with his mental illnesses in his own ways, those illnesses definitely held him back. Jason characterizes these illnesses as impulsive and compulsive, and the difference in experience before and after treatment was striking.

ADHD and Binge Eating Disorder in the Workplace

Jason talks to us about what happens to people with ADHD and/or binge eating disorder in the workplace, the illnesses’ effects on a lifestyle overall, and his own experiences with binge eating and ADHD. This is a conversation chock full of expert knowledge and patient experience. You don’t want to miss it.

Snap Out of It! is available across podcast platforms. For more on this podcast, check out http://snapoutofitpodcast.com.

I've felt quite overwhelmed by the events happening worldwide and within my community. Between social media, the news, and life, the noise never lets up. Luckily, there are practices we can observe and measures we can take to quiet the noise. It all starts with small actions leading to a more overarching goal. This methodology applies to many aspects of our life, and fighting mental health stigma is no different.

If we look at stigma square in the nose for the ugly monster it is, it can be very overwhelming and even spur negative consequences to our mental health. But, if we take it apart and work from the feet to the head of the beast over time, we trick our brains into seeing a more reasonable and less scary fight. The question then becomes, how do we tackle stigma one limb at a time? How do we start small with tackling mental health stigma?

Dissecting the Big Picture of Mental Health Stigma into Small Actions

Who do storybook villains and horror film characters historically prefer? It's not the most intimidating or equally-matched foe; it's the fearful, the vulnerable opponent. Mental health stigma is nothing more than a monster feeding off a variation of those traits: ignorance and intolerance. It's the most dangerous kind of beast, but it's not unbeatable.

It all starts with breaking down the big picture and examining the smaller pieces of its composition. Ignorance is a huge part of mental health stigma. Let's start here--at the feet, if you will--and work our way up.

One way to combat ignorance is to boost awareness. Maybe the next step is brainstorming how to spread awareness of the complexities and nuances surrounding mental health that are not nearly talked about enough in some communities. Or maybe it's taking a more overarching approach and spreading mental health awareness in general because, let's be honest, that, too, is not talked about nearly enough. Start a local gazette discussing mental health, host an informative learning session, or even call up a friend to start a conversation. Our smaller actions can significantly impact the bigger picture if we allow them to do so.

And just like that, we've created specific goals with corresponding action steps to achieve them. Maybe it's not enough to tame the beast altogether, but I guarantee it is enough to knock it off balance.

Daily Habits to Help Fight Mental Health Stigma by Starting Small

There is no doubt this topic is dense. It can be exhausting to unpack stigma. After reading my pieces, I prefer to leave you all with actionable tips and, more importantly, a sentiment of hope. With that said, here are some deceivingly small actions we can all implement daily that have a real impact on the fight to end mental health stigma. 

• Start a conversation. Often we shy away from discussing topics that may spark controversy. As a people-pleaser, I'm guilty of this myself. As difficult as it may be, starting these open discussions are a way to give knowledge to others and gain insight in return. Whether a friend or a stranger in the produce aisle, creating the space to talk about mental health is an excellent way to identify areas of ignorance and fill them with information and personability. As I mentioned, safe places like this don't exist in some communities. Be a pioneer, a trailblazer against stigma.
• Amplify the message. We live in the age of social media. As tricky as it can be to maneuver, social media excels at message amplification. Use it to spread the word. Maybe start with reposting meaningful mental health posts. (Tip: Keep it snappy and concise so people will be more inclined to engage.) Although seemingly minute, these practices can incite a ripple effect of knowledge and allyship in our communities, ultimately working to end stigma.
• Celebrate the small wins. If you take nothing else from this piece, I want it to be that you are already on the right path to fighting mental health stigma. You are optimizing your available resources for good. Even if it started as a personal journey (which is fantastic, by the way), you are pouring knowledge into yourself and your community simply by showing up. Celebrate that. Celebrate yourself. You are doing phenomenally. 

I constantly move—so much so that I feel anxious if I have been sitting for more than about 20 minutes at a time. In fact, even as I type this sentence, I am doing calf raises while standing in front of my computer. On most days, I run or walk an average of 20,000 steps, and if I fall below that threshold, I frenetically pace around the living room while I watch TV at night. I happen to be someone with a lot of natural energy, but I often wonder: Am I just active, or is it my exercise addiction? Moreover, how can I strike a healthy balance in this area?    

I Will Be the First Person to Admit I Have an Exercise Addiction 

In a previous article, I talked about coming to terms with exercise addiction. I am aware this obsessive urge to live in a state of continual motion disrupts all the other facets of my life. I will be the first to admit it's problematic behavior. I can spot the controlling nature of my actions. I understand it's not rational to glance down at my step counter every few minutes. I realize that missing a workout should not result in waves of insecurity and self-loathing. I know the human body benefits from rest as much as it does from activity. Still, here I am, looking for any excuse to run, pace, or do calf raises at my desk.

Of course, movement is healthy—crucial, even—in moderation. But I cannot always use the I-am-just-an-active-and-energetic-person excuse as a cover for my exercise addiction. I have to be honest with myself when the itch to move crosses a line into compulsive exercise territory. I also need a plan to hold myself accountable when all I want to do is indulge in this compulsion. I can start by asking: "Am I in an active mood right now, or is my exercise addiction trying to rear its head?" Then, I must take responsibility to funnel the urge I feel into other pursuits—ones that align with balance, recovery, and wholeness.  

I Am Learning the Difference Between Activity and Exercise Addiction 

Do you ever find yourself asking, "Am I just active, or is this behavior an exercise addiction?" Trust me, I can commiserate—but I also know it's possible to restore a sense of balance in this area of life. How are you learning to spot the difference between an active lifestyle and an exercise addiction? What healthy steps do you take when those compulsive urges rise to the surface? Please share in the comment section below.

This story is a bit embarrassing to share. But people really feel the stories are helpful, so here you go. I want to admit that I can’t shower without my husband, Tom, in the bathroom with me.

Why This Schizoaffective Doesn’t Like to Shower

Before we get into that bit of gossip, I’d like to begin with a personal history of me and showering. I’ve never liked showering, but I’ve done it because I don’t want people to think I’m gross. I mean, I already have schizoaffective disorder. Why give them more ammunition against me? I do like baths a lot. But I always find it hard to wash my hair in the bath.

This brings us to the past few years. I normally take a bath six days a week, shower, and wash my hair once a week. When I’ve showered, I’ve had my husband in the bathroom with me or nearby in the bedroom. He’s the cheerleader. I’ll say, “Now I’m washing my hair!” And he’ll say, “Yay, Biddit!” (Biddit is my nickname.)

Arthritis Changed This Schizoaffective’s Bathing Routine

Then the onset of osteoarthritis hit my knees earlier this year. It made it extremely hard to sit down in the bath, and then Tom had to help me get in and out of the bath or at least sit by and watch in case I started to slip and fall.

It also became painful to stand in the shower. So, we bought a shower stool. Now I never take baths, only showers. I miss baths terribly. That and going for walks are the two biggest joys my arthritis has taken from me. There are practical, non-schizoaffective reasons for Tom to be with me while I take a shower. It’s a little difficult to get in and out of the shower. It’s definitely not as hard as getting in and out of the bath, but it’s still a bit of a balancing act. I feel better having someone there. Also, if I drop something during the shower, like my bottle of grapefruit shower gel, I can’t get down on my knees to retrieve it. So it’s nice to have Tom there to pick it up.

But the other thing is that I’m uncomfortable in the shower. As I said, I don’t like showering. I feel claustrophobic in the shower while, in the bath, the curtains are pulled aside, and I feel out in the open instead of being closed in. Also, when mermaids were trendy, I would pretend to be a mermaid in the bath. Pretending my legs are a fin is easy because I don’t have a thigh gap. Anyway, I’ve always loved mermaids.

Right now, I feel I need Tom in the bathroom when I shower because the shower kind of scares me for both physical and schizoaffective reasons. Maybe it’s stigma and ableist to say there’s something wrong with that.

It does show what a wonderful guy Tom is to me. I definitely owe him. And love him. Maybe it’s not embarrassing after all.

Being the victim of verbal abuse can bring with it many dynamics. My overwhelming sense of responsibility is one contributing side effect of suffering verbal abuse through the years. This emotion includes feeling accountable for the abuse I endured, thinking that I have to be responsible to make everything better, and I am unable to trust that other people will do the right thing, so I must handle everything myself. Unfortunately, the continuous feeling of responsibility eventually leads to survivor burnout and an overwhelming sense of inadequacy. 

Abusers Often Transfer Responsibility 

One tactic my abusers used was transferring personal responsibility to me when negative situations arose, or they made a mistake. This transfer of ownership for actions is often known as blame shifting. They did not acknowledge they played a part in the dynamics, leaving me feeling guilty and ashamed and that I had to change the situation by altering my behavior or actions. 

Some of these moments are still fresh in my memories, and years later, it's more obvious how abusive they were. 

Examples included:

• "If you didn't do (a task), then I wouldn't have to yell at you."
• "It's your fault I get mad, you know." 
• "If you leave, I have no reason to live." 

Sadly, these and other comments were prevalent throughout my childhood and adult years from multiple people in my life who were supposed to love me. These days, I cannot imagine talking to someone I love in the same manner. 

Responsibility Hangs Over Me

Leaving an abusive situation is complicated. Often, it takes individuals more than once to break free from abuse. Unfortunately, once I was on my own, the responsibility for everything fell on my shoulders. Although I was thankful to be away from my abusers, I was the only one I could count on. 

I worked multiple jobs to get enough money to pay rent, buy groceries, and sustain myself. This responsibility was crippling in some ways. I couldn't make the jump to trust others to help me or even believe them when they made promises to me.

This crushing feeling of responsibility has interfered with personal relationships where I felt I couldn't be vulnerable enough to ask for help or be worthy of support. Therefore, I would continue to tackle everything on my own. 

I've slowly gained an understanding of my emotions and what feelings come from being the victim of verbal abuse. Although I still struggle with an unrealistic expectation of personal responsibility, I know now what situations are out of my control and what I should tackle as I work through my healing journey. 

Self-injury can feel like your only option for relief from whatever you're going through—but it's not. Exploring healthy alternatives to self-harm will allow you to find better, more effective ways to cope.

Examples of Alternatives to Self-Harm

The biggest lie we tell ourselves, knowingly or unknowingly, as self-harmers is that we have no choice. When you feel backed into a corner, it's hard to believe that there are alternatives besides self-harm.

Just because it feels true doesn't make it so. In fact, you've got a lot of options to choose from. The tricky part is finding the ones that work best for you—but more on that for a moment. For now, I wanted to share a few examples to help open up your mind to these (and other) potential alternatives to self-harm:

• Confiding in a trusted friend, family member, or mental health professional
• Spending quality time with people whose company you enjoy, even if they're not "in the know"
• Moving your body in a fun way, e.g., hiking, swimming, dancing, yoga, sports, etc.
• Treating yourself, maybe with a nice, long bubble bath, your favorite meal, or a night in with your favorite book or movie
• Journaling, creating visual art, or writing fictional stories—whatever helps you sort through your feelings
• Listening to music, either to vent what you're feeling or to gently shift gears into a more pleasant state of mind

I've used all of these and more. For me, writing, listening to music, and walking have all been cornerstone alternatives I use anytime I start to feel overwhelmed or triggered.

Finding the Right Self-Harm Alternatives for You

The thing to remember here is that we're all different. Though we may both be self-harmers (or maybe you just know and care for someone who self-injures), my life story likely has at least a few twists that look nothing like yours. I'm willing to bet our bodies aren't identical, either.

In short, our journeys into self-harm are different, and our paths out of it won't look quite the same. What works for me won't necessarily work for you.

So, how do you know which alternatives to self-harm will actually help you get—and stay—clean? In many cases, a therapist or other mental health professional can provide invaluable guidance to help you find the answers you're looking for as efficiently and effectively as possible. But if that's not an option right now, I've got a few tips for searching out those answers on your own.

Do you have any other tips or alternatives to self-harm you'd like to share? Leave a comment below—the more good ideas we can come up with together, the better.

Did you know that burnout is common for individuals with borderline personality disorder (BPD)? In this article, I talk about how I used hard work as an unhealthy coping mechanism and what happened when it all came crashing down, and burnout came for me.

From Wonder Woman to BPD Burnout

I used to love working too hard. I always had new goals and dreams that were larger than life. I was Wonder Woman. All this came to a head when I was about 25 during University. Students were to group up and write a 60-page mini-thesis every semester. Being Wonder Woman, I usually took over the research projects and assigned most of the work. I read all the assigned literature for my courses and performed well in exams.

I coordinated a student political project and traveled to refugee camps in Africa. My university career was very successful, but my physical and mental health was the cost. I was constantly worried I wouldn't make enough for next semester's tuition, leading to homelessness and a poor, almost non-existent diet.

Then, one day, everything just stopped.

Suddenly, I was unable to work. I couldn't function. If I tried to work, I would get sick. If I tried to read, letters and words would scramble. One day, out of the blue, I just stopped being able to function.

Coping with BPD Burnout

As it turns out, Wonder Woman was a coping mechanism. She regulated my emotions and gave me an identity. When she was gone, I was subjected to the full force of my disorder, and I became sadistically self-critical, reckless, and suicidal. I can still feel the effects of burning out to this day and will likely never operate at that capacity again. Wonder Woman still comes around from time to time when I need her. But I've come a long way standing on my own two feet.

Have you ever experienced burnout with BPD? Let me know what it was like for you.

The word "neurodivergent" is flung around social media and is now very politically correct. For example, it's supposedly okay to call a person "neurodivergent," whereas calling them "mentally ill" will get you social media-canceled. But if people insist on using the term neurodivergent, then let's at least know what it means and how one might use it properly. 

What Does Neurodivergent Mean? Defintion of Neurovigerence

According to Harvard Health Publishing, 

Neurodiversity describes the idea that people experience and interact with the world around them in many different ways; there is no one "right" way of thinking, learning, and behaving, and differences are not viewed as deficits.¹

People who think, learn, and behave are known as neurotypical,² whereas those who think, learn, and behave in non-standard ways are neurodivergent. These non-medical words are there to prevent people from saying things like "normal" and "abnormal" (although I would argue there's nothing scary about those words).

You could compare this to handedness (or handdiversity, if you like). Most people are right-handed, and people who are left-handed interact with the world differently. Neither is superior nor "right" or "normal." Neither is considered a deficit. It's worth noting that handedness is something one can adapt to, does not require treatment, and does not impinge on one's quality of life.

What Conditions Would Neurodivergence Apply To?

Most commonly, people with attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) are considered neurodivergent. One could easily argue that those with ADHD experience and interact with the world in different ways affecting the way they think, learn, and behave. Some people would argue that the ways they do this are not deficits. 

However, take a look at a select list of ADHD symptoms in adults:

• Chronic lateness
• Impulsive behaviors
• Problems in primary relationships
• Anger management difficulties
• Poor time management
• Poor prioritizing skills
• Low motivation and procrastination
• Difficulty holding onto employment
• Low frustration threshold

Then take a look at the effects these symptoms commonly have on adults with ADHD:

• Academic underachievement
• Poor professional performance
• Few professional achievements
• Financial issues due to poor management skills
• Substance abuse
• Multiple driving violations and accidents
• Marital problems, including multiple marriages

These symptoms do point to a different way of interacting with the world. They do point to a difference in the way they think, learn and behave. However, I think arguing they are not deficits is a stretch. There is a reason why people get treatment for this illness, and it's not because it's merely about "differences." It's about harm. It's about harm to the person's life.

Of course, every case is different, and some people with ADHD may not see such severe effects on their lives. Their differences truly may not be deficits. Are only they neurodivergent, then? A select group within a group?

The other condition wherein neurodivergence is commonly assigned is autism spectrum disorder (ASD). However, the effects of this disorder, too, run the gamut. Those with ASD sometimes have jobs, relationships, etc., that are quite normal, while others have a version of ASD that makes it impossible for them to communicate with the world almost entirely. If you couldn't live on your own, if you couldn't take care of yourself, if you couldn't communicate, how is that not a deficit?

So, is the degree of your illness the defining factor of actual neurodivergence? I would say, probably.

Is Bipolar Disorder an Example of Neurodivergence

The argument against bipolar disorder being an example of neurodivergence is even stronger. One defining factor of bipolar disorder is that it has a negative effect on your work, school, and personal life. That is literally in the definition of the disorder.

You put on top of that things like an 11 percent fatality rate in those with bipolar disorder,³ and you'd be hard-pressed to convince me there are no deficits there. 

Using the Term Neurodivergent

I understand the use of the term neurodivergent is an attempt at more inclusive, stigma-free language. I get it. But I have this weird thing about definitions and using words correctly. And according to the definition by the smart folks at Harvard, those with mental illnesses or severe neurodevelopmental disorders don't qualify, and, in my opinion, it minimizes the experience of these people.

I'm all for recognizing that people are different. For example, some people are visual learners, while others are auditory learners. That is an actual example of neurodiversity. But for those of us who have to claw and scratch every day just to stay alive, this term does not apply, at least not with the given definition.

Instead of inventing words or mutilating the ones that exist, I would much prefer we just use clear language and face the challenges of that head-on. As I always say, wordplay will not save us from prejudice and discrimination. It takes much more to do that.

Sources

1. Baumer, N., & Frueh, J. (2021, November 23). What Is Neurodiversity? Harvard Health Publishing. https://www.health.harvard.edu/blog/what-is-neurodiversity-202111232645

2. Definition of neurotypical. (n.d.). www.dictionary.com. Retrieved October 25, 2022, from https://www.dictionary.com/browse/neurotypical

3. Soreff, S., MD. (2022, February 18). Bipolar Disorder: Practice Essentials, Background, Pathophysiology. https://emedicine.medscape.com/article/286342-overview

Nobody likes cleaning. Wait. That's not right, because I've known people who enjoy cleaning as it provides a sense of accomplishment or something else I can't comprehend. Not me. I hate cleaning. I especially hate the big jobs. They give me anxiety. Of course, I procrastinate, the job gets bigger, and my anxiety increases. So, I procrastinate some more. And I do it again and again. It is a circle of procrastination and anxiety that eventually must be tackled.

Sometimes Cleaning Can Relieve Anxiety and Stress

I reluctantly do my weekly chores, including laundry, dishes, vacuuming, dusting, sinks, toilets, etc. And sure, if we're expecting guests, extra cleaning is a prerequisite. In this case, we call it "making the fake house," a phrase borrowed from an episode of the '90s sitcom Everybody Loves Raymond, implying that the mess we customarily live with is unacceptable for guests. But on the whole, cleaning is the last thing I want to do. 

For some people, cleaning may help relieve anxiety and other types of stress, myself included. For instance, when my dog died, despite my aversion to it, I spent several hours scrubbing the floors and washing baseboards as an outlet for my raw grief. In contrast, the urge to clean and ready my home for our new arrival was overwhelming when I was pregnant. I was on a stool washing windows when I was eight months pregnant with my firstborn. I think it's called nesting. In both cases, however, my need to clean seemed more primal than intentional. I acted on impulse.

Why Do I Get So Anxious About Big Cleaning Jobs?

My husband and I share our household chores. He does the vacuuming, cooking, and shopping; I do the dusting, dishes, and laundry. He cleans his bathroom, and I clean mine. However, my bathroom has a double shower stall which he prefers to his tub shower. The shower stall is extra spacious; I don't begrudge him that. But I have to clean it. Despite using a squeegee on the glass after showers, the hard water in our area builds up, and the glass must eventually be cleaned. Then there are the tiled walls and the stall's floor. It's a big job that I try to do once a month or so. More "or so" than once a month, I'm ashamed to say. 

Naturally, I procrastinate. I spot clean. I soap down the glass to give it a lift. Days go by. Then weeks go by. I know that "big clean" time is approaching. My anxiety escalates with every passing day. It happens a little bit at first. Then it happens more and more. Here is the conversation I had with myself last week about this very task:

"Why does cleaning the shower stall bother you so much?"

"I don't know."

"It's just cleaning. You'll be glad you did it afterwards."

"I know. But it's such a big job."

"It'll take an hour. Maybe a bit more."

"Yah, but then I'll have to do it again in a few weeks."

It was a whirlwind of back-and-forth until I finally sucked it up, got my supplies, and got the job done. And boy, did that shower stall sparkle. I was thankful that neither my husband nor I had to shower until the next day. Every time I went in the bathroom during those few unsullied, pre-shower hours, I stared at the shine and smiled. I'm sure there was a dopamine hit of some sort. I still wouldn't call it fulfillment or satisfaction, but my anxiety about this particular big job was reset, if only for a while.

Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder and Cleanliness

My father, who suffers from undiagnosed obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), is hypervigilant about cleanliness. When my siblings and I were young, along with our weekly chores, about which he was mildly tyrannical, he set us about doing some obscure tasks.

I remember one time, Dad made us wash the floors of our cemented crawl space—which was already very orderly because it had to be—pushing everything away from the walls so we could scrub where the floor met the wall. It seemed stupid to us kids, but we did it. We had to do it. We dreaded the next big job he would assign us.

It wasn't just us, though. Mom and Dad took a week of vacation every April to do the spring cleaning. Everything came out of the cupboards, closets, and cabinets to be cleaned, including the cupboards, closets, and cabinets themselves. The house smelled like vinegar for weeks afterward. That was some vacation. 

Keeping things clean and tidy helped reduce Dad's anxiety, but not in the fulfillment/satisfaction kind of way. It relieved his OCD, which eased his anxiety. It didn't eliminate it. Nothing could, undiagnosed as he was. If only we'd known about OCD back then. As kids, we might have better understood what drove my dad to be who he was. As an adult, Dad could have been diagnosed and treated. It was a much different time.

Writing this blog post spotlights the "why" for me. Could my dad's cleaning hypervigilance be why I hate cleaning and get anxious when big jobs are looming? After reading through what I've written, I'd have to say it seems obvious. Understanding why I get anxious about cleaning, the big jobs, in particular, will help me manage the expectations I have of myself, leading to yet another form of self-compassion. This is another topic to discuss with my therapist, I guess.