Rural Mental Health 911

There I was, minding my own mental health business when someone I know (read my husband of the last 20 years who is growing on me) suggested I travel with him through rural South Africa.  He is doing a review on the state of rural health, whether there are sufficient doctors, nurses and other necessary stuff for health to be delivered in a context where everyone – let alone people with mental health challenges – are vulnerable.  At first I wondered why on earth he would want me, the multiple mental illness disordered someone to travel with him, as I’m not really the kind of gal you can take pretty much anywhere (and who has consistent unreasonable demands that cannot be met).  For example, I was completely outraged that they did not have a cappucino (extra shot of espresso with cream) at a petrol station in the very rural parts of the Eastern Cape Province of South Africa.  I mean honestly, rural health is a challenge, but no proper coffee?  This could lead to war and I am the most concerned for these coffee poor people. Anyone with mental illness within a 500 km radius is clearly suffering – if you can’t get over your pill hangover with proper coffee what can you do??

More seriously what struck me was a number of stark, non mental health friendly realities that exist in this environment.   Firstly (in no order of priority):  everything is FAR (like really far) and that means that healthcare (regardless of the reason) is difficult if not impossible to access.  If I think about the times that I needed to go to hospital, urgently (cryingly / psychotically etc) needed to see my psychiatrist / psychologist, the mind boggles at how you would access these kinds of services in rural areas in Africa when you are EXTREMELY vulnerable. Second:  I know for a fact (and it’s confirmed by research) that mental health / illness awareness is low if non-existent.  Coupled with this, as we all know, there are also many mental illnesses where insight into your own illness is low (and most likely to be some of the most severe illnesses).  Thirdly:  even when you know you’ve I dunno, felt sad and manic your whole life, and would like treatment, you are likely to be made to feel worse by way of reception from your local family / community / health workers (or all of the above) whom you may or may not be able to access after travelling loads of km’s with money or food that is in very, very short supply.

And then my personal favourite:  let’s assume you’ve been able to jump all these hurdles: if you need to be hospitalised, a “bed” is usually on a first come about to die basis, so if you’re not in the act of death and / or dying there usually isn’t a bed,  an actual psychiatrist on call, or available, approriate medication to treat you with what is often considered to be a rather minor, made-up ailment.   I have personally been told on admitting that I was suicidal and needed hospitalisation that I should come back later.  Insert witty comment here, as I have no words.  This was certainly my experience in urban areas, so I imagine that in rural areas, this must be very, very much worse.  Added to this, Emergency Medical Services in the Province has been known to go on STRIKE.  Yes.  All available ambulances were on a um, go slow.

If I lived here, I would participate in the strike and my own mental health by asking them to put me out to pasture with the cows, and hope that I be struck with lightening as a manner to reset my clearly broken brain and body.  Better than waking up without coffee, to have to walk / hike far to a facility that would be too full, or to be “turned away” by an ambulance that wasn’t working that day.  Am I making fun of this situation?  What would I suggest in this deplorable state of affairs?  I really don’t know.  I don’t know how many people with mental illness live here, what they need, and how we can help and make sure that things change.  After all – we live in the country with one of the most enabling constitutions in the whole world – and further rights that are enshrined in our bill of rights.  Unfortunately though – in the past couple of days, I have seen that this means very little if anything – to people who don’t even have their basic human rights respected, let alone access to health.  We need help, we need to make a noise, and not stop until it changes.  And YOU need to be part of it. African Mental Health Matters Too!  Be part of those who support us as opposed to those who don’t.  I 4 M’s Bipolar Mom.

The Bipolar Writer Needs Your Help!

As some of you know (and others don’t) I am ready to publish my memoir! Seriously. I have edited and moved chapters around, and I honestly believe that I prepared for this next step. I have a great cover and manuscript. The issue? Do I self-publish or try to find a publisher?

I have done a lot of research, and I found a company to publish the physical copy of my book. I have watched endless videos on self-publishing on Amazon and other online self-publications. What is right? What is wrong?

I want to do this right because this is my first official novel (and though its non-fiction and I consider myself a fiction novelist) this is important to my brand and me. My memoir The Bipolar Writer is so important to me, so I want to do this right and not rush into something I will regret. I will admit that I am apprehensive about where to go. I thought self-publishing was the right path, but I have doubts. I am turning to my family (YOU) for any advice you can give me.

James

unsplash-logoRémi Walle

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Hello Depression, My Old Friend

I’ve come to feel it once again.

I’ve been here before, then again later, and again after that.

I am speaking, as the title indicated, of Depression. Do you know it? Do you know its seeping, creeping darkling tendrils? Its suffocating mass? Its overwhelming prevalence in your life?

The funny thing is that I want to feel it. I draw Depression over myself like a comforting blanket, speak through its muffling effects, and even run my thoughts through its percolating filter.

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I’m afraid. And as much as I fear the mental state I can get to with Depression, I fear the unknowns of real life much more -especially the variables known as people. Actually, that’s not fair. A lot of my negative thoughts result from a constant need to numb any feeling at all.

When my mind is awake and aware, the reality of my pointless life rises up in walls around me. It doesn’t stop there. Depression curdles my thoughts, reminding me of how much I have in life and how I should feel bad for feeling bad. I should also stop thinking selfishly at all. Sure; I don’t ever address my own happiness, but I’m more functional that way.

When around people, every little gesture or tone or blink sends my anxiety off the charts. I talk too much, or too little. I don’t smile enough. Maybe I smiled too much? I know they hated me because they did that little side-smile and nervous laugh. Why oh why did I talk about social injustice when they just wanted to talk about Joanna Gaines?

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Reeling at the stimuli I quickly opt for substance abuse, staying up late, stopping my mind, and squashing my innermost desires.

I forget all the good advice and hide beneath my cloud of encroaching gloom known as Depression.

And only when I am at the bottom of the pit do I notice things might not be ideal. When my mind shouts, “NO YOU’RE NOT” over the top of a compliment. When I yearn to not exist. When, in short, the thoughts altered by Depression go beyond what I think is ‘real’ and definitely enter ‘lying.’

That’s when I begin to fidget a bit. Perhaps, I consider, this Depression thing isn’t such a great comforter after all.

And yet, I don’t fully shake it. Instead, I feel I go round and round the cycle again.

I told my counselor once that I don’t know why I keep at it. I said that maybe I was waiting for ‘rock bottom;’ for a major event to shake me out of this. “You don’t want rock bottom,” she reminded me. She’s right, of course. I don’t.

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I feel I need to take my own advice and stop pretending I don’t need to. I need to keep at it and not assume all’s well enough to get lazy. I need to actually do what I just said.

What do you do to push away the blues, and remember that they need to stay away? How do you stick with it?

Photo Credit:
Megan te Boekhorst
Alexandra Gorn
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José Ignacio García Zajaczkowski

Why Do We Do What We Always Do?

I’ve been a little down lately.

For anyone who ever feels the effects of depression, that’s code for: crying sporadically, feeling worthless, and avoiding people in general.

On the plus side, I’ve been doing some thinking. How? A detached, more logical human often steps aside from the involved, emotional creature on the floor and studies her like an anthropologist.

Here are some of my observations:

  1. When feeling bad, I try to feel worse.
  2. I really just want someone to love me, so I hurt anyone who gets close enough to even talk.
  3. Although self-care and routine would help, I intentionally do not sleep and avoid cognitive behavioral therapy-like activities.
  4. I often think nothing will get better, though a hormone shift completely alters my perspective.
  5. Despite knowing to avoid vices, I dive right in.
  6. I tell myself mean, cutting, disparaging, rude, abusive, sarcastic, reproachful, cruel phrases that I also say are all true. They’re not.

In short, mein patient, I haf observed that I not only shoot myself in the foot; I also get the arm, gut, and a hopeful shot near something vital. Why?

Fear. Self-protection. Habit.

Fear? I fear change and the unknown so much that I sink back into habits and negative feelings because they are more familiar. I do not know the outside.

Self-protection? What I do know of the outside is painful. People are rude and hurt me, even by not paying attention –especially by not paying attention. Things I hope for will not come true, I will feel sad, and the world is full of disparity.

Habit? Besides those reasons, I do not have enough motivation to believe that the small steps others (including myself) recommend will make a positive change. I inch a toe out just a teensy bit toward a better habit, see little or no difference, and crawl back to my mud.

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So what’s a person to do?

In actual practice, I repeat my ingrained cycle over and over. I avoid self-motivation by constantly blocking ways that might help. I deny outside help, even shutting the door on physical interventions as simple as a hug. I’m not sure what I’m waiting for in doing this.

Yet, occasionally, the outside observer and the person on the floor become one. I blink, look around, and realize this isn’t such a great place to be. Others may have this happen the morning after a night of drinking or doping, the moment sedatives wear off, or at that terrible time of early morning when you still can’t sleep and know any effort to try will not be enough.

No wonder we’re depressed.

I believe what I’m waiting for is an outside intervention. I’m hoping that a knight in shining armor will show he cares enough for me always, perfectly, consistently. Motivation is his noble steed. His blade is The Real Truth, and his shield The Defender of All Who Might Hurt Me. He never gives up, never takes, “No,” for an answer, and is never distanced by the rude things my inner voice says.

And, until he charges up to little, fat, depressed, muddy me; I am determined to keep up the bad habits.

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This expectation is not reasonable.

So, what’s a person really to do?

*Sigh* I think I need to cut out the crap. In some cases, literally; like not giving into unhealthy vices. I also think I need to really commit to the cognitive behavioral therapy stuff. I talk about it, endorse it, and encourage others to do it. Then, I …don’t.

As a New Year’s resolution this November day, I am going to check out some free resources and get on it. If you might possibly relate to fear, self-protection, and habit-driven behaviors, I recommend coming along, too.

I am worth better than this, and so are you.

Let’s keep fighting.

An Inconvenient Truth

So I am well aware that someone else penned (and owns) the Title:  An Inconvenient Truth, and their’s was shocking and thought provoking.  Earth shaking, land sliding, terrible tidal waves. Ground breaking.  Thought provoking.  And I think yes, me too.  Me too a lot.  I have earthquakes,   I have landslides, and tidal waves every single day.  And as I’ve said before, some people think this is invisible.  That my internal storms don’t exist.  Don’t matter.  Aren’t serious enough.  Are invisible. Can be shaken out of stuff, made worse by the we pretend mental illness doesn’t exist environment I and other people with mental illness live in.  And I’m here to say it’s time for a very serious climate change.

Perhaps important to start by dispelling a few myths about mental illness that are held:

We aren’t criminals and don’t like jail:  Anyone who has been inside a jail – criminal or otherwise – will tell you it isn’t a pretty place.   There is very little that promotes mental health or rehabilitation to be a better person, including the I don’t know, being locked in vibe.  This is the same for psychiatric hospitals.  In the hospitals I’ve been to and paid for (yes, I paid for this) there is fancy chicken mesh on the balcony least you take a one floor plunge.  There are bars on all the windows. Someone tells me when to go to bed, when to stop smoking and asking why I’m crying too much.  Wow.  Let me have a panic attack about the fact that you are treating me like a kid when I have so painfully been treated like I wasn’t, when I was.  Aside from that – we don’t have Summer Camp  in Africa.  Please don’t Camp Counsellor me, with psychiatric medication, that I pay for, in a hospital.  No.  If I want to sleep, please leave me alone.

I am purposefully acting like a pool of sadness slime:  People with mental illness are often told they are lazy, sleep too much, need to get up, need to be productive.  Need to wake up when they haven’t slept, when they really, really, really while everyone else was snoring, wanted to.  I don’t own a sufficient amount of disgust to convey on this.  I’d have to muster up CENTURIES of disgust to spit in retort. Contrary to popular perception:  I don’t like depression, and I’ve not come across a person with mental illness who does. I am NOT purposefully crying the day away, not able to move, inhaling candy, cigarettes and anything generally unhealthy on purpose.  Basically, I am not pretending to be sad, I am not pretending that my depression is deeper than it really is because I actually really don’t want it.  No-one who really experienced depression actually wants it.  Also the “are you having an eyeore day” joke isn’t cute.  I don’t have a raincloud that follows me, eyeore stands upright and eats thorns not chocolates, so there is NO similarity.

Emotionally Extra:  Since I was little, I used to think and feel in exclamation marks.  And I had neither the capacity nor the vocabularly to express myself.  And in retrospect, my ability to voice what I felt and was feeling reduced, not increased, because of the frosty reception I received when displaying the mental illness of me.  Each time I was told I was extra, that I told neverending stories and that I shouldn’t wear my heart on my sleeve.  As a little girl that was a shocking idea.  Didn’t my heart need to be in my chest to function?  And so because I was the problem, people have continually given me “advice” about how to contain myself, cry less, smile more.  Smile and wave even.  At times where I felt like I could barely put one foot in front of the other.

So I have news – I will no longer be told I’m an incovenience.  I will not listen when I am told that I am extra.  No.  Instead, I am here to start a hurricane of hope, a landslide of lithium (cause why not) and a group of people who are decidedly extra that want to be extra with me too.  Because like the movie An Inconvenient Truth – the reality is, that people with mental illness are becoming the majority.  Depression will overtake – according to projections – deaths due to some other life threatening illness.  The point is I’m not inconvenient, I’m not extra, and yes I can eat candy like no other, smoke dangerously asleep, and topple beautiful mugs in a store when you (and I) least expect it.  That doesn’t mean I deserve to be treated like an inconvenience.  No-one does.  Stand up people with mental illness.  Let’s create a new storm that floods out stigma.  Rains out discrimination.  I know I want to.  Be part of those who support us as opposed to those who don’t.  I am 4 M’s Bipolar Mom.

Photo Credit: unsplash-logoTy Feague

Speak Up! And Your Voice Will Help You

Sometimes I wonder what world optimists live in. It can’t possibly be the same as mine, because mine is one of twisting mists, overcast skies, and lurking shadows.

Besides the possibility of parallel universes, this phenomenon is likely a matter of perspective.

What is perspective?

Duh; it’s how you see everything. And, I mean everything. In fact, perspective is how you see, hear, taste, touch, smell, and sensedeadpeople everything. It’s like eyeglasses you wear on all your senses.

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Now, I know you’re a smart cookie who already knew all that. But, did you think about how perspective applies to mental health? Specifically, did you think that this means other people will have no clue how to relate to what you are sensing all the time?

While you are lying in bed, certain that nothing will ever change and that people are crap, someone else is skipping around and wondering how to spend such a glorious day. That person may even be in your house and driving you crazy with the skipping.

I know. I’m married to a skipper.

I often resort to sticking a leg out as he passes -but, my counselor suggests I ought to engage in fewer sabotaging behaviors like that.

What I and you really need is for others to understand what we are going through. We want them to help us because we often can’t help ourselves. We want acceptance and love. We also don’t always know what we want besides to just feel better.

This is where perspective comes in.

Many, many posts here at The Bipolar Writer Mental Health Blog of Amazing Stories and Poems and Posts and Mental Health Issues and Such If You’re Still Reading This Title I’m Amazed deal with the perspective of mental illness sufferers. I’ve learned a lot, and consider myself part of this little group -though from a safe distance because I also have social anxiety.

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These stories help others to understand. But, they are only the first step.

For other people to get us the help we need, we need to walk at least one more pace. Now, don’t get stressed and close this article and go binge on chocolate. I’m always about keeping things doable. My steps are always baby steps.

All I’m saying is that, after you share your perspective, you need to ask for the help you need.

Not sure what I mean? I wasn’t, either, till recently.

I began counseling just over a year ago from a very dark, confused place. I hadn’t even found this lovely blog. No one seemed to relate to my anxiety or concerns or negative self-talk. If anyone talked to me about my issues, they handed out aphorisms like useless bits of random jigsaw puzzles.

Fast-forward to a lot of sessions (and money) later, and I had an epiphany. (That means an inspirational thought. Look how much I’m teaching you today!)

I had been attending counseling sessions, waiting for her to know exactly what to do based on the few answers I’d given to questions. I expected that she felt my anxious hesitancy about groups, that she was always looking at the glass half-empty, and that she also saw life as an endless drag of sameness.

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Nope, she didn’t.

Apparently, she skips, too -though, less than my husband. And I needed to tell her what I was sensing.

“I need you to give me exact phrases I can say when I feel that way,” I finally admitted.

Or, “Today, I need to talk about how to talk myself out of a depressive cycle before I spiral and don’t want to even get up.”

Or, even, “Can you please explain what you meant by that term?”

Thing is, the counselor has a different perspective. She has hers. You have yours. That random guy walking past has his. That woman over there has hers as well.

In regards to mental health professionals, we need to approach sessions the way we would a regular doctor visit. If you were at the doctor’s office, the dialogue might run as follows:

What are you seeing the doctor for today?

-Oh, you know; I was walking up the stairs and stubbed my toe really hard. I think it’s broken.

Applied to our mental health, the dialogue would go like this:

And how are we feeling today?

-Oh, today I woke up feeling like even the sun hated me and I had a major panic attack at the thought of riding the bus.

As my husband says, we’re paying the counselor to fix the problems. It’s her job.

If you are smarter than a random blog-writer like me, you may already be past the step of telling your mental health professional what you need. So, smarty-pants, have you gone on to apply this to talking with your partner? Close friend? Mother? Busybody neighbor?

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Don’t go crazy -crazier– admitting all your problems to strangers. Let me tell you: one Facebook post can alienate your neighbors. I am, however, advocating appropriate responses that help friends or nagging neighbors to give you the breathing room and support you might need.

If you’re feeling a bit down and think no one loves you, try texting a friend and telling him or her that you need to feel better. It might be a good night for movies.

If you think you could just use a good laugh, call someone who tells jokes.

If you’re feeling too much pressure from demands, ask if you can’t have a few things due at a later period.

When I attended a local mom’s group we talked about the Audacious Ask. The idea was that we needn’t be afraid to ask other people for help. We were challenged to ask a friend or neighbor for something we needed for us, even if we were stressed that they wouldn’t want to.

My counselor agrees that we all have different perspectives. She also says mine can be tweaked a bit up the positivity scale, but that’s a topic for another post.

In the meantime, I challenge you to use your new power of perspective to ask for what you need.

Don’t be afraid. If your friend came to you, wouldn’t you want to help?

Photo credits:

Josh Calabrese
Kyle Broad
Bryan Minear
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Today, September 10th

Today.

A day of prevention

I must mention.

Raised voices chant.

Families grieve

for their loss.

The suffering hide in silence.

A world unites

to claim a day

in honor of those who fallen.

Many acclaim a selfish

act

yet they do not know the impact.

Alarming statistics rise each year.

There lies a fear.

A discussion never had

leads to a life uncertain.

Afraid you’ll see beyond

the curtain.

Thoughts of death torment

with promises to solve.

Enduring an unexplainable pain

wishing to end it all.

One doesn’t deserve to bear

such spiraling sadness.

There is no secured solution

for this tragic act.

Communication ranks high on ways

to prevent suicide.

For those suffering there is hope

and for those family members,

have the conversation.

It saves lives.

Depression for Dummies

Hi. I’m Chelsea, and I am married to a wonderful, talented, intelligent man who is pretty dumb when it comes to mental illness.

Perhaps you know someone like this. Your bright, helpful person may be a friend, parent, brother, sister, or boss. As well-meaning as he or she might pretend to be, this acquaintance just doesn’t get it. Worse, he or she is often so inept that whenever effort is made, you feel he or she constantly places a clumsy finger right on a fresh bruise and pushes.

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But our friends and family don’t have to be idiots. Honestly, we really need love and support for our mental health and we can be tough nuts to crack.

In light of that, I’ve developed a helpful guide. I call it The Depressive Feelings/Better Responses Guide (of Science). Just whip this puppy out whenever you want to whip them upside the head and you’ll both feel better:

  1. When someone says that he is feeling depressed, a cheery life aphorism like, “Life isn’t all bad,” “Don’t worry; be happy,” or “The sun’ll come out tomorrow” isn’t helpful. At all.
    Instead, try, “I understand that you are feeling depressed.” This may easily be followed by, “I’d like to help alleviate some of your stress. Can I clean your whole kitchen for you?,” or “…I happen to know that chocolate is half-off at the store. I’ll be right back with a pound or two.”
  2. If a depressed person says she feels hopeless; that everything in life is hard: the incorrect response is to point out how easy her life is. Please oh please do not say, “But you don’t have any serious issues like cancer or your arms falling off.”
    A better answer? “Let’s address your concerns one at a time. Maybe you could write a list, then we can come up with a solution for each one.”
    Or simply listen, without criticism. Some people just really need an ear to dump in.
  3. How about fatigue? Do you tell someone with depression that he shouldn’t be tired? That he should get to bed earlier? No, silly. He knows he should get to bed earlier; worrying about how he needs to sleep is one of the things that kept him up.
    Validate the feelings of the tired person. A passable idea might be to describe a cool idea you read recently -about writing all of one’s concerns on a paper by the side of the bed at night. Maybe you have a really boring book you could lend him.
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  4. Let’s say she is feeling poorly about herself. Her self-esteem is in the toilet of the deep, dark dungeon of the evil underworld troll king’s nephew. Do not advise a person with depressive tendencies that, “You’re a great person,” or how many talents she has and how she has the potential for so much more.
    Telling a depressed person of wasted potential will bring on a crying fit. You’re just backing up the mean little voice already in her head (herself).
    One of the best things to say is that you like her, that you like a specific thing about her (say, her ability to come up with Britney Spears song lyrics at the drop of a hat). Try to turn the focus on something else, especially if that is on a happy memory.
  5. When someone with depressive tendencies withdraws from life, reach out. You need to act if he does one of the following: not answering texts, appearing less-frequently online, and even telling people, “Goodbye.”
    If you can’t go, try to get his family or other friends to physically check in. Even a vocal phone call is better than a text. A visit is better than an e-mail. A long, in-person conversation is better than a social media message.

I have a difficult time with about everything in life due to a negative perspective and very little self-motivation. I need my husband, my few friends, and my family. Theirs are the hands that reach into the cave of my mind and pull me to safety.

With specific directions like this, we can work toward loving the hand that reaches. At the very least, we won’t feel like slapping it away.

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Picture credits:
Pixabay
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Unsplash

The Next Leap

Being a part of a mental health movement makes me proud. If you know any of my stories you know I am not full of pride. What mental health movement? The one you experience reading The Bipolar Writer. We are a part of something bigger. We are here to stay and we are going to teach along the way.

But …

There is also a bigger problem.
How can we teach and not preach?

How can we educate when not everyone wants to be taught?

How can we communicate?

We write most of our symptoms, what can sound like complaining when in reality we are expressing ourselves. We say what it is we do not want to hear but what about what we do want to hear? What are the “normals” allowed to say to us that we are ok hearing? You hear me?

Think about it

What is it that we want to be told?

Communication is s two-way street. It is easy to spout off what we don’t want but that’s when it sounds aggressive and talking about our diagnosis can be misconstrued as whining. There has to be an approach where we meet in the middle. This discussion must be had for a stop to the stigma. So I ask you,

What is it you want to hear when you are experiencing an “episode” or if you are feeling depressed, manic or paranoid? Let’s communicate what is ok to say and encourage the conversation to merge confusion and understanding. I believe it would be a great leap towards eliminating the stigma. It would most definitely be a beneficial conversation.

I’ve posed this question on my personal site and the response was good but I believe this should be asked of a larger audience. It is an important question. If you are a normal reading this, what questions could we answer for you to understand? By no means am I trying to separate us because we are one in the same but the reality is we are separated.

Lets #speakup! and #stopthesilence. Here is your opportunity to be heard once and for all.

Be kind.

Be considerate.

Be proactive.

Struggle with Self-Doubt

Fall and Get Back Up

When we fall, we get back up because we do not really have a choice otherwise.  This is human nature.  It isn’t as easy as it sounds though.  I can only speak on behalf of my experience and my experience is tainted with mental illness.  I believe this to be true in those who do not live with mental illness as well but I can not say for certain.

Life is difficult when we begin new adventures.  Many roles are expected to be filled which can become haunting.  Say for instance you want to author a book.  You simply can not just write the book and be done with it.  It has to be edited, published, and promoted.  Nowadays in the world of media, we must exploit ourselves to be seen or heard.  Not only our success but our failures are witnessed by thousands.  There are many contributing factors that are a part of whether we stand or we fall.

Trying to strive towards success with a mental illness has proven sketchy for myself.  Again these pitfalls may be experienced by those without mental illness but for myself, these are amplified.

Self-doubt

Self-doubt has reared it’s ugliness more than I’d like to admit.  To the point that I do not want to continue.  I can not seem to get past it.  I struggle to find the beauty in my unique style.  I want to stand alone but can not find the courage to do so.  Luckily there is a voice inside my head that will not be silenced, coaching me to rise up, to continue, to move forward despite what I am feeling.  I know in my heart that what I strive to do has a purpose, I just haven’t come across the way to implement it.  Which leads me to the next setback.

Lack of trust

This falls along the same lines as self-doubt and all that I will mention does yet it plays a separate role.  Lacking trust in one’s abilities causes great strife.  Once I make a decision, I go back and forth between whether it was the right or wrong decision.  This makes it almost impossible for me to move forward or get back up, so to speak.  In reality, there is no right or wrong way to go about things especially creative ideas but for myself, it is easier said than accepted.

Resources

There are ample amounts of resources made available.  This becomes an overwhelming factor.  As I seek guidance, I am given too many options to chose from.  This is sensory overload for me.  My decision-making skills are limited if not non-existent, making deciding a challenge.

These three examples all play off one another making it almost impossible for me to move forward with my decision to begin a creative business.  New adventures open new horizons which I am entitled too yet I am my own pitfall.  Low self-esteem and lack of confidence are what it boils down too.  These are characteristics that have prevented me from getting back up time and time again.  I am my own worst critic.

Today I would like to reach out and ask for some suggestions to get past this phase.  It is impacting my goals in a negative manner,  one that I am not comfortable with.  I once was a self-proclaimed quitter but for the last year or so I have set out to do things with an “I will not quit” attitude and I refuse to turn back now.

What are some things that you have tried that worked in helping you overcome self-doubt?  Do you now trust your abilities?

Any and all feedback is appreciated.  Thanks- Candace