(When) it's time to ask for help

In one week I will be taking a medical leave of absence and checking into an intensive outpatient psychiatric program. While I don't know all of the details of the program yet, I know that it involves various types of therapy sessions several days a week, and will last at least a month. This is hard for me to admit; it's hard for me to share. I have just as many preconceived notions about what this program will look like as you're probably having right now. (Movies involving hokey portrayals of group therapy sessions come to mind.) But, despite my preconceived notions, and despite the anxiety I have about participating in something like this, I know it's what I need to do. I know it's what I need to do if I have any chance of getting better.

Read More

Snuggling with puppies (or what helps on the bad days)

In my last three posts I shared what it's like (for me) to live with anxietydepression, and trichotillomania. To summarize: living with mental illness involves some very bad days, where it's really hard to function. But, in this post I want to shift gears and talk about what I actually do on those bad days to make functioning a little easier—besides therapy and prescribed medications, which I fully support and recommend. I'm also hoping (selfishly) to get a little advice from you, dear readers, on what helps you get through those bad days, so that I can add more "tools" to my toolbox. The list below is categorized by illness but, obviously, there will be some things that are helpful across the board.

Read More

A breakthrough, part 3: trichotillomania

Sometimes, I pull my hair out. I'll search my head for hairs that don't feel right, and I'll pull them out, throwing them away. I don't want to pull them out. I mean, sometimes I want to pull them out, but I don't know why. Sometimes it feels kind of relieving...like I've found something that isn't supposed to be there and I've tidied it up. Sometimes I don't even realize I'm doing it. And sometimes it feels shameful. 

Read More

A breakthrough, part 1: anxiety

Flying through the air from 11,000 feet feels more wonderful than I ever thought it could. The wind holds me up, smashes against my body, and I feel safeSafe through the 10 seconds of free fall. Safe with the swift jerk of the parachute deploying, and safe during the 5 minutes under canopy, gliding nearly at eye level with Mt. Hood, above the Oregon farmlands. So, why is it I feel safer up here than I do with my feet planted firmly on the ground?

Read More