Blogs
Moving abroad is no easy feat. Saying goodbye to your family and friends and dealing with the culture shock can be difficult. I moved to the United States when I was 19, and it was one of the hardest things I have done. The uncertainty of settling abroad was extremely anxiety-inducing for me. I'm soon moving to yet another country, and from what I've previously experienced, I now feel more confident moving abroad. In this blog post, I'll share some tips for coping with anxiety when moving abroad.
Depression often makes me want to do nothing. Whether it's due to demotivation, apathy, fatigue, or despair, I only want to sleep as much as possible. When I know in my gut that I need the rest, I sleep and feel better the next day. But I usually fight the urge to do nothing because giving in to it makes my depression worse. This seems to be a common issue for depressives, and knowing my reasons may help you figure out yours.
I recently came across the concept of embodiment while scrolling on that quintessential self-care resource known as Instagram. (Please note the sarcasm—I am trying to break said scrolling habit.) But excessive social media consumption aside, this term has resonated in my bones. Embodiment evokes a sense of deep awareness, connection, appreciation, and trust for the body. It feels intuitive and emotionally safe, like the start of a close friendship. It also feels sensory and tactile, like the experience of being unconditionally at home in my own skin. Since this initial Instagram encounter, I have wanted to learn all I can about what it means to practice the art of embodiment in eating disorder recovery.
On August 10, 2022, I wrote about how I reached a milestone in my trauma recovery, specifically, how I managed through a potentially high-triggering event without incident. The most significant milestone will arrive this weekend when I return to where the worst part of the trauma occurred. I'm trying to be proactive in my preparations by taking stock of the panic- and anxiety-mitigation tools I have at my disposal.
Four weeks ago, I started telling the story of a borderline crisis I have been going through ("BPD and Crisis: Part 1"). I promised I'd continue the story, but things keep evolving, and it's challenging to reflect without the benefit of hindsight. However, I will share my initial reactions to learning that my Danish residence permit was unexpectedly under threat.
Seven years: that’s how long I’ve been writing for HealthyPlace and the "Surviving Mental Health Stigma Blog." This time seven years ago, I was embarking on a new journey in writing and mental health. And now, again, I’m embarking on a new journey and saying goodbye to this blog.
Take a moment to think of your favorite media villain. I bet the character that just came to mind is portrayed as having a mental illness with a sprinkle, or more like a heap of dramatization for theatrical effect. Batman's Two-Face struggles deeply from poorly represented dissociative identity disorder (DID), as does Split's protagonist with the 23rd identity of Kevin being The Beast, an entirely fictitious representation that--intentionally or not--paints individuals suffering from DID as violent and inhuman. The cinematic tactic aimed at creating drama and bolstering a storyline comes with an unintended and paramount side effect: stigma.
When I operate within the framework of an eating disorder, my life orbits around fear. I am afraid of consuming three balanced meals. I am afraid of not being able to squeeze in enough exercise. I am afraid of the number staring back at me on a scale. I am afraid of seeing the calorie count on a nutrition label. I am even afraid of existing inside my own skin.
Meditation is helping me manage symptoms of verbal abuse, but there was a time in my life when I could not imagine myself meditating and taking the time to stop everything I was doing. During that phase of my life, I overcompensated for my underlying anxiety by keeping myself busy with tasks. I filled every second of the day with completing tasks. Sitting still was not part of my daily schedule, and I certainly did not try to keep my mind free and clear of thoughts.
I don’t have many friends who live nearby. Part of the reason is that my schizoaffective anxiety makes me feel awkward around new people and at parties. Part of it is because many of my old friends moved to other parts of the country, and a few of them died due to complications with mental illness. But part of it is because I cut a lot of people out of my life. Here's why I cut people out of my life.
Thank you for your comment. I'm sorry you're in that situation. I know how hard it is for parents to watch a child with mental illness struggle. Know this: you are not alone. Many parents are in this untenable situation.
Your options are very limited for the reasons you have listed. Your son is an adult and get to make his own decisions -- even when those decisions are heavily influenced by an illness. And while some might disagree, the US tends to fall on the side of personal rights, regardless of illness.
If your son is a risk to himself or others, you can see about getting him treated without his consent. (In some States, this is also possible when a person is at a grave threat of decompensation [getting sicker].) I know this is a hard thing to do, but sometimes the only thing that will help someone is the treatment they refuse.
I recommend you check out the Treatment Advocacy Center. They have a hotline and a lot of information online about serious mental illness and treatment of those illnesses: https://www.treatmentadvocacycenter.org/
I also wrote this piece about the situation when help is refused (not associated with HealthyPlace) and it lists some additional resources: https://natashatracy.com/bipolar-blog/person-mental-illness-accept-illness/?swcfpc=1
Finally, I recommend you reach out to other parents in the same situation. You may be able to find these people through groups like NAMI (just Google them). Knowing others facing the same issues can help.
I hope your son is able to get help.
-- Natasha Tracy