Signs of Stability

This month, I am on track to finish a bottle of shampoo for the first time since I started buying my own shampoo. I have finished an entire pen for the first time. I just finished a stick of deodorant. I'm about to finish my second tube of toothpaste ever.

These are little things. They are things that I might not admit to every person that knows me (except, well, here I am.) They are little things that are very big to me. These are the little hallmarks of emotional, physical, and mental stability that I haven't had in a long time. If I ever had them. I'm showering on a regular basis, I only own two bottles of shampoo right now, and I'm going to use this one all up before I buy a new one. The same is true of the deodorant. I kept track of one single pen for multiple months, and journaled at least a little bit almost every day. I'm brushing my teeth almost every day, a habit I only started in October of last year.

I am maintaining habits, I am staying focused, I am able to take care of myself and keep track of my belongings. I haven't lost half of everything I own since last August! Stability! It isn't perfect, my stability isn't complete, but damn. It's nice to settle into my own life a little bit.

You Should Have Seen The Day When...

Sometimes mental health recovery is scary because there are people now that have only really known me as this more stable, more together version of myself. And I worry sometimes that the bad days will come back and those people won’t know that this is still good and that’s still nothing and really you should have seen the day when...

When you maintain at what feels like a 3, and they’ve only seen up to about a 4, and you hit a day where you’re maybe at a 6, how do you say “but at least this isn’t an 8”? How do you say “I used to live at a 5, I promise this is better”?

It's Just Hard

Learning about your own avoidant coping mechanisms is hard. It means a lot of self-correction, a lot of turning against your first inclination. It means leaning into your feelings and letting them happen and sometimes telling other people you wouldn’t normally tell. It means not making a joke or running away. It means breaking habits that feel like they’re protecting you. It means making yourself vulnerable and saying the right thing even when it scares you and you don’t believe it because that is actual therapeutic practice.

It’s hard. It’s so hard, and it’s so much work. I don’t have the uplifting part right now. It’s just hard.

2017 Recap

2017, you were a lot to handle.

I lost 2 jobs, was diagnosed with 1 mood disorder and 1 developmental disorder, had my apartment broken into and flooded, lost about 90% of everything I've owned since the beginning of high school, and cried a literally uncountable number of times.

I gained new friends, added love to my life, discovered medication and therapy that works for me, was reminded just how much my fantastic friends care about me and want to support me, got into my second apartment ever, rediscovered art and crochet, have spent a lot of time learning how to be alone (and how much I don't really like it), gave back to my community, and have spent time discovering myself and being respected for who I am. I was given the chance to celebrate birthdays and milestones. I have worked so hard to learn honesty and how to prioritize myself, and how those things are related. I proved to myself that I am a good man in a storm (literally and figuratively) and that I can handle most crises with grace even when it hurts.

I got to see Whitney for the first time since May of last year. I got to watch Robyn graduate from college. I travelled to Chicago, New Jersey, Denver and South Carolina. I got to see pictures of Charlie playing in the snow, and I got to watch as Benjamin opened the blanket I got him for Christmas and immediately buried his face in it. I turned 23 with a week-long celebration. I dyed my hair blue. I watched my sister grow. I stayed up until 5:30 in the morning talking to Veronica and Wes. I saw Welcome to Night Vale Live. I petted so many dogs. I heard my mom call me Derek for the first time. I put real money in savings for the first time ever. I got tattoo number 5. I woke up every single day, no matter how impossible that seemed the night before.

A year is too long to characterize as good or bad. It is made up of thousands of moments that sting and glow and temper and corrode. I look back with recognition of trauma, and I look back with celebration of joy. I look forward with hope, trepidation, and overwhelming determination.

"Zombie" - Fuck That

I’m so so so fucking tired of the “meds will make you a zombie” trope. Every time I hear someone who is not on meds for mental illness talk about how meds make you into a zombie, I want to scream. It’s a narrative that keeps people from life saving treatment. It’s a narrative that shames people for seeking that treatment and depending on it.

Medication can help. It can also hurt. You know who can figure that difference out? Your doctor and you. That’s it. If it’s not working, talk to your doctor. If you don’t like how it feels, talk to your doctor. If you don’t want to rely on medication, talk to your doctor and your therapist about alternative treatment options and coping mechanisms. If your doctor isn’t listening, fuck that doctor.

But don’t stay away from meds just because some shitty neurotypical person in your life or shitty neurotypical TV show or book tells you that medication will make you a zombie or take away your edge or make you less of who you are. Your illness is not who you are.
But don’t stay away from meds just because some shitty neurotypical person in your life or shitty neurotypical TV show or book tells you that medication will make you a zombie or take away your edge or make you less of who you are. Your illness is not who you are.

Your Health, Your Treatment

Remember, kids, the point of mental health treatment isn’t a uniform standard of “normal,” it is an individualized version of success often centered on harm reduction and risk mitigation.

Your symptoms don’t have to go away, the parts of your personality that you like but are part of your illness don’t have to go away. They just have to be managed so they can’t hurt you. (The parts you hate and that hurt you and you feel serve no good purpose can be worked against. Can be worked with. You get to define that version of success too.)

Learn to recognize the signs of mania and figure out how to still have fun, but set boundaries to keep yourself and your loved ones safe. Keep all the bubbly energy and creativity of having an adhd brain, but learn how to manage hyperfixation and keep your distractible nature from standing between you and your passions.

I feel like a lot of people struggle with “but if I get treatment, I won’t be myself anymore!” which is an absolutely understandable fear. I’ve faced it myself. But the point of treatment is not perfection or making you a zombie or even making you normal. It’s about making things not so hard, not so scary. And if you feel like your treatment is making you not yourself, and you’re unhappy with that? Talk to your dr or therapist or psych. Redefine success.

Also remember, if you ever need support asking for help, finding doctors, making that final call when you want to make an appointment, let me know. I’ll do what I can.

Struggles

I am once again confronted by one of the constant struggles of mental illness- I can recognize the pattern, or the skewed thought process, or the challenging behavior... but that doesn't mean it stops happening. Recognizing "that's an irrational thought pattern" doesn't automatically make it stop being the default thought pattern.

Knowing might be half the battle, but y'all it's really only *half* the battle. And the part between knowing something is broken and getting it all put back together is tough.

Fragile

My response to fragile days, at least right now, is to reach out. Not for help, but with love. I reach out to the people that matter to me and let them know it. Even though I'm afraid. Even though I'm really scared that my love is too much and I'm fretting over saying something wrong. I'm scared, and I want to isolate, but instead I'm throwing flowers. Sending little paper boats down the river and hoping that even though I can seem to feel good about myself today, maybe the people I love can.

Today I'm scared, of everything, of everyone, of doing something wrong. But maybe I'll brighten someone else's day. Maybe my impact on the word today can still be good.

It Doesn't Serve Me

I'm finding myself enamored with the phrase "it doesn't serve me" when trying to make good decisions, set boundaries, or treat myself well. It makes it so that things are not a question of good or bad, healthy or detrimental, right or wrong... all of which can be difficult to quantify or convince myself of.

But does something serve me? Does it improve my life? Is it useful for me?

• Ex: I could spend a lot of time berating myself for a small mistake, but does that serve me? No. It won't change the decision, it won't help me learn from the mistake. It will only serve to make me upset, to hurt me, and to make me freeze in my growth.
• Ex: I am angry with Person A for doing [this thing], but that thing happened 6 years ago, and we haven't spoken since. I will never gain further closure on this subject. Does it serve me to hold onto or ruminate over that anger? No. It takes my time and energy and makes me relive the pain of whatever happened. I don't have to forgive them, but I don't have to give them any more than I already have.

Medication Awareness

These are my nighttime meds. Allergy pill, pill to help my brain process dopamine correctly (no longer taking this one), mood stabilizers, sleep meds. This is a “for the foreseeable future” sort of regimen. This, plus my adhd meds in the morning, help keep me stable. They’ve made my life so much easier in the past 6 months than it has been in years. Medication is saving me grief and heartbreak and anxiety and struggle at work and hurting those close to me.

On some days I struggle with the idea that I’ll be taking these meds or some like them for, as I said earlier, the foreseeable future. But I felt the same way about glasses when I first got them. It is difficult to adjust to looking outside ourselves for something crucial to our safe and comfortable existence. It’s scary and frustrating that we can’t do these things for ourselves, but sometimes we just can’t.

If you need meds, remember that they are just something that helps. They're another aid. They're like therapy, glasses, orthopedic shoes, or vitamins. They're like wearing a coat in the winter because your body can’t create and maintain heat by itself in those conditions. It’s not a weakness, it’s not a burden. It’s just another tool.