Managing attention-deficit/hyperactivity (ADHD) behaviors can be challenging for many people, especially those in abuse recovery. Often, triggers can amplify a person's reactions to someone's actions or words. In some cases, like mine, my battle with ADHD helped fuel my verbal abuse recovery process.

As an adult, I can see now how my ADHD is in every part of my personality. I've always been very excitable and intense, passing these traits down to several of my children. Although it's endearing, these characteristics aren't always helpful. 

My ADHD Responses in Abuse Recovery

When I was in relationships where verbal abuse was common, I would feel responsible. I would constantly be on high alert, thinking of ways to help diffuse the situation. My ADHD personality loved to jump from topic to topic, searching for the perfect answer to my situation. 

I was, and still am, a doer. I like to do things, although I used to take on too much. I would continuously be overwhelmed, thinking I had to do everything or it wouldn't get done.

Part of that mentality came from my past. I realized at an early age that if I wanted something done, I would have to do it myself. I felt like I couldn't fully trust anyone and carried this responsibility with me as I grew older. 

My current partner used to remark how I could never relax or slow down. I always had to be busy with one task or another. I chalked it up to being a mom. There was always something to clean, someone to drive to practice, or work to complete. I thought my active, busy lifestyle was normal. 

Managing My ADHD in Abuse Recovery

Some of my ADHD traits have been a point of argument in my past relationships. I had trouble keeping up with housework or focusing on dinner. There was always laundry lying around, and I often burned food because I was distracted. These situations would give my abuser reasons to belittle me and make me feel inadequate. I felt like everything was my fault and out of my control. 

Thankfully, I had a team of therapists who recognized how my ADHD was limiting my ability to heal from verbal abuse. Although I've never had a clinical diagnosis, these professionals said many of my habits were in line with ADHD. Once I accepted this, I started using the best tools and resources for ADHD in my abuse recovery journey. 

However, it isn't a simple or easy fix for me to change my behaviors. This is who I've been for as long as I can remember. Although I am still the same person, I turn to more helpful coping strategies when I become overwhelmed. I can relax now and let others step in to help. I've started letting things go instead of obsessing about whether they have been done correctly. 

Managing ADHD during my abuse recovery journey helped me gain back my life. I don't feel guilty for watching TV instead of doing something productive. I can read a book for fun instead of trying to gain knowledge to advance my career.

Of course, I still have days when I take on too much, but they aren't as frequent as they used to be. I'm starting to enjoy relaxing, and I schedule downtime throughout my week because I see the benefits. 

Recently, I've been thinking a lot about queer friendship and how special and wonderful it can be. Part of why I am thinking about this is that when I came out as transgender four years ago, I lost a lot of my non-queer friends. It was really painful. They just couldn't show up for me as I transitioned more fully into my life as Daniel. While it was painful and hard to lose so many friends (and even some family members), this loss paved the way for me to make new queer friends. In these queer relationships, I started to see I could be myself. There was a layer of authenticity to my queer friendships that was missing in my previous life. Today, I'll break down a few of the elements that make queer friendship so affirming. At the end of this post, I will also share tips on how to make new queer friends if you find yourself wanting more in the queer friendship department. 

4 Elements of Queer Friendship I Love

1. Queer friendships can be healing. For so many queer folks, we come from backgrounds that have not been affirming of our identities and who we are. Many queer folks I know have had to break ties with their families of origin or churches of origin due to a lack of acceptance and conditional love. Queer friendships can provide a space to heal from these dynamics and to be ourselves without the worry of retaliation. Many of us experience unconditional love in queer friendships where we are just allowed to show up as we are without an expectation we will change or go back to our previous selves. This is where the healing comes in. For me, after leaving the church when I came out, queer friendships have allowed me a space to heal and reclaim who I am, which leads me to my next point. 
2. Queer friendships are authentic. In healthy queer friendships, there is room to be yourself truly. Many of us are accustomed to having to wear masks of inauthenticity in our relationships, but queer friendships allow room for us just to be us and to drop the masks. For me, this has meant space to try on new pronouns and even new names as my gender evolves and shifts. For those of us who have had to hide parts of ourselves in other relationships, this is one of the ways that healing can happen by authentically being ourselves. 
3. Queer friendships are fun. From pride events to drag shows to queer bars and our strong community events, there is never a lack of fun things to do (although I do want to acknowledge that access to these events can depend on where you live and if it's an urban or rural space). Queer friendships can be really fun. I'll talk more below in the video about spaces where you can make new queer friends and access fun events like the ones I've mentioned here. 
4. Queer friendships allow space for personal growth and evolution. One of the things I've loved about my queer friendships is that there is room to grow. I don't feel I have to be static or stay the same in my queer relationships. If my gender or my sexuality shifts, I don't feel I have to explain myself. A healthy queer friendship embraces fluidity and growth. 

Tips to Make Queer Friendships

Are you reading this and wishing you had more queer friends? It's okay — I've been there, too. In the below video, I will share some tips for making new friends in the queer community. 

There are two final things I want to note. Not all queer friendships are healthy and perfect, and not all fit the above descriptions. I have certainly had queer friendships that I had to end because of unhealthy dynamics or because one of the above elements wasn't present. We are not perfect and queer friendships are subject to unhealthy dynamics just like any other relationship system. 

Also, while most of my friends are queer these days, not all of them are. I don't want to imply that queer folk can't have happy and healthy relationships with people who are not queer. Of course, we can. One of my dearest friends has been by my side since long before I came out as Daniel, and our relationship is many of the above things, too, even though our identities are quite different. 

Routines and visual schedules can help a parent with dissociative identity disorder (DID). Growing up, my life was marked by unpredictability. I found myself perpetually in a hypervigilant fight-or-flight crisis mode. When I was diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder, I thought I would spend the rest of my life in this mode. When I found out I was going to be a parent, the idea of parenting the way I functioned for most of my life terrified me. Little did I know I would soon discover the power of routine and visual schedules as a parent with DID. 

Using a Routine Fosters Safety for DID Parents and Family Systems

As a parent with DID, I have an internal and external family system. My external family system consists of my daughter and my partner. My internal family system is made up of my alters. Since getting married and becoming a parent, my internal family system has gone through some adjustments that caused my alters and I to have to establish safety and communication with each other.

Parenting, inherently stressful for many, presented unique challenges for me. Stress acted as a potential trigger, causing me to become ungrounded, lose track of time, and experience flooding within my internal family system. As the voices within grew louder, regulating my external and internal worlds became increasingly challenging. Amidst this struggle, my therapist and I embarked on a journey to enhance communication with my internal parts and establish a routine as a foundational pillar for parenting with DID. The rationale was simple but profound: routines benefit children as they create predictability, ultimately reducing stress. 

We deliberated on what these routines would entail and crafted visual schedules to help with parenting with DID. These visual schedules became anchors, grounding me in the present moment. They not only provided a roadmap for the day but also facilitated communication with both my daughter and my alters, conveying what to expect next. Over time, this anchoring effect fostered a profound sense of safety, introducing predictability into the day's environments for both my internal and external family systems. 

Routines as a Grounding Tool to Aid Parenting with DID

A benefit to exploring various daily routines and scheduling tools when parenting with DID is the possibility of finding a tool that works for you and your system. My system found solace in a calendar app and a visual schedule. The calendar app allowed me to seamlessly integrate appointments, synchronize work tasks, and add essential elements to my day. Utilizing the visual schedule, I could further organize tasks into folders, providing a detailed breakdown that proved particularly helpful as alters could engage with the visual schedule in ways that were helpful for them as well. I have alters of various ages and abilities. The calendar app and visual schedule allow me and my alters to communicate about the happenings of the day through words and pictures. Communicating in this way helps my internal family system feel safe and function as a whole team.

Over the years, I've found living with DID disorienting. However, in my search for tools, I've learned routines and schedules can serve as helpful grounding tools when parenting with DID, aiding in the reorientation to the present moment, especially when time has been lost. This made me ponder the question: can routines and schedules be helpful for others living with dissociative identity disorder as well?

I have found that being too overwhelmed can lead to a loss of executive function. Basically, my head gets filled with life's troubles and illness, and then it can't think complicated thoughts. That's the crux of it. The thing is, complicated thoughts like those involved in planning and problem-solving are pretty crucial for getting through your day. So, how do we deal with the effects of overwhelm on executive function?

What Is Executive Function?

According to a paper by Adele Diamond in Annual Review of Psychology, 

"Executive functions (EFs) make possible mentally playing with ideas; taking the time to think before acting; meeting novel, unanticipated challenges; resisting temptations; and staying focused."¹

Diamond goes on to say that the core and higher-order executive functions are:

• Inhibition (self-control — resisting temptations and resisting acting impulsively)
• Working memory
• Cognitive flexibility (including creatively thinking “outside the box,” seeing anything from different perspectives, and quickly and flexibly adapting to changed circumstances)
• Reasoning
• Problem-solving
• Planning

Executive functions aren't required for every kind of thought. For example, spelling a simple word doesn't require them, but they are required for more complicated thinking processes, such as considering the ramifications of what you're about to say or do or solving a problem you are facing at work. These types of complicated thinking processes are critical to success in our everyday lives.

While executive functions can be impaired for a variety of reasons, they are known to be impaired for those with:

• Addictions
• Attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD)
• Conduct disorder
• Depression
• Obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD)
• Schizophrenia

Overwhelming and Executive Functions

According to Diamond, executive functions are the first thing to go and suffer the most when you are stressed, sad, lonely, sleep-deprived, or not physically fit. 

In my case, I find that I get overwhelmed by the symptoms of my illness — bipolar disorder, or, more commonly for me, depression in bipolar disorder. My brain can't form a simple thought without it being interrupted by a depression effect. Moreover, my brain feels full and foggy. Trying to get a thought through my brain is like trying to navigate through muddy pea soup. It's slow and winding, and thoughts frequently get lost and confused.  

It's no surprise, then, that executive functions are dramatically impacted by overwhelm. Because executive functions require being able to hold a thought in your brain while making considerations about that thought, it requires more effort than your standard simple thought.

Overwhelm impacting my executive thought makes it very difficult for me to accomplish much of anything, particularly considering I'm a writer, and writing requires being able to focus and hold many thoughts in your head at one time.

Improving Executive Function When You Are Overwhelmed

There are formal programs that work to improve executive functions overall. Those are mostly aimed at people who have chronic issues with executive function. That's not what I'm talking about. 

In my case, what I need are immediate coping skills for executive function decline because of overwhelm. Here are some coping skills I try:

• It is important to do whatever I can to decrease my feeling of being overwhelmed. This may include meditation, exercise, rest, contacting my doctor for a medication alteration, eating better, etc. I need to solve the problem of why I'm overwhelmed in the first place, and the only thing that may do that is improving the underlying condition.
• Drinking extra coffee can help. This is a tiny thing that can help a tiny bit, but if I'm desperate, I'll try it.
• Sleeping better is critical. Sleep loss, when overwhelmed, will do nothing but make it worse.
• Breaking tasks down into tiny, tiny parts can allow me to make decisions and plan things.
• Asking for the help of my loved ones can help. They can provide a reality check for what I'm doing and help guide more complicated thoughts.
• Asking for help from a therapist can help defuse the feeling of being overwhelmed. Sometimes, what I need is a place to unload my overwhelm and come up with new strategies for dealing with its cause.

In short, when you are overwhelmed, and it's impacting your executive function, you need to deal with the underlying condition (such as depression), the reason you are overwhelmed in the first place (such as a life event), and the impact of the executive function loss. This is not easy. Nonetheless, it can be done a little bit at a time, and eventually, it can get better.

Source

1. Diamond, A. (2013). Executive functions. Annual Review of Psychology, 64(1), 135–168. https://doi.org/10.1146/annurev-psych-113011-143750

Recently, I posed a challenge to myself to see if I could tolerate one day without a fitness tracker. This experiment should have been simple: Just set the device aside, then continue with all my normal activities for about 12 hours. The key phrase here is "should have been simple." But to be honest, it was so painfully difficult. Here's why I took on this endeavor—plus the humbling lessons I learned from one day without a fitness tracker. 

Why I Chose to Spend One Day Without a Fitness Tracker

My fitness tracker is usually attached to me like another appendage. I have lost count of how often I glance at this device out of sheer unconscious habit. I am hooked on watching the number of miles, steps, calories, and other exercise metrics increase over the course of each day. I crave the instant relief and intense pleasure that comes from being in continual motion. But as someone who is also in eating disorder recovery, I cannot ignore an obvious, uncomfortable truth. This reliance on my fitness tracker is both compulsive and unhealthy—it has been for a long time.

Over the past few years, I have tried to rationalize this behavior in all sorts of different ways. As it turns out, I am quite an easy person to convince. I've been able to reassure (or, more accurately, deceive) myself with classic eating disorder justifications like this one: 

"I consume enough food to sustain a high level of exertion, so what does it matter if I'm constantly active? After all, it isn't harming anyone—I am just passionate about exercise." 

Famous last words, right? A week ago, this "harmless" fitness tracker obsession escalated into a moment of reckoning when I hurt the person I love most—my own husband. Unintentionally, he elbowed my fitness tracker off the edge of our bathroom counter and into the sink, immersing it in water. For the next several hours, it was entirely unresponsive, which sent me into a panic. Anxiety took over, and one thought spiraled on an interminable, torturous loop: 

"How will I know if I'm active enough?"  

I could not have cared less that my husband's error was purely accidental. I lashed out at him with so much vitriol that it shocked both of us. At that moment, I realized my habit was far from innocuous. It was inflicting harm, and now I had a responsibility to course-correct the behavior. So, I embarked on my experiment—one day without a fitness tracker.   

Here's What I Learned from One Day Without a Fitness Tracker

I completed this challenge successfully (albeit with much inner turmoil), so in the following video, I want to share a few valuable insights I learned from one day without a fitness tracker:

(Note: This video is restricted to 18 and older because of Youtube's policies on eating disorders.)

Is there a certain behavior, habit, or compulsion you want to overcome to continue making important strides in eating disorder recovery? Whether it's learning how to tolerate one day without a fitness tracker or pursuing another milestone that scares you, each incremental action step can lead to such a meaningful outcome. Please feel free to share some of your own recent lessons from recovery in the comment section below. 

Opening up about borderline personality disorder (BPD) symptoms can present unique challenges, and disclosing this condition to immigrant Filipino parents adds another layer of complexity. My BPD symptoms include intense mood swings, fear of abandonment, and unstable self-image. Opening up about my borderline personality disorder symptoms with parents who come from a culture and generation that stigmatizes mental health issues is a delicate and, at times, painful process. 

As my family dynamics were rooted in beliefs about resilience and projecting unwavering strength, when I started opening up, I did so with caution. Opening up about BPD symptoms in such an environment was at first met with skepticism and confusion. The first time I thought to open up about my BPD symptoms happened mid-panic attack, and I regret not being more mindful in my approach.

Opening Up About BPD Symptoms: Communication Through Resources

One significant hurdle is the clash between Western psychiatric concepts and traditional Filipino values. While BPD symptoms are acknowledged in the mental health realm, translating it in a way that aligns with my family's cultural values has been essential. Emphasizing that seeking help is a testament to strength and a commitment to personal growth has reshaped perceptions. I found success by sharing easy-to-understand resources with my family, eventually leading my mom to express her commitment to research and support in my mental health journey. These days, I can openly text my mom with updates on my recovery.

Opening Up About BPD Symptoms: Seeking Guidance from Culturally Aware Professionals

The value of community support is paramount. Encouraging my parents to connect with support groups or seek guidance from culturally aware mental health professionals provides comfort. Knowing they are not alone in supporting a loved one with BPD symptoms offers reassurance. Whether they embrace these suggestions or not, finding solace and success in working with a therapist who understands the nuances of Asian and Western family dynamics has been crucial for me. It's made a world of difference to connect with culturally aware professionals who can touch on the roots of my trauma with added insight into how family dynamics may have contributed to my mental health.

Opening up about BPD symptoms to immigrant Filipino parents has entailed delicately navigating cultural nuances and traditional beliefs. Approaching the conversation with sensitivity, providing educational resources, and emphasizing the potential for positive change have paved the way for understanding and support within my family unit.

Check out my video below to hear my journey in opening up about my BPD symptoms to my immigrant family members. 

Healing from my trauma required me to tell my trauma story — but not to over-identify with it. When I first began my healing journey, I would talk about my trauma to anyone who would listen: new friends, strangers on the Internet, distant family members, etc. In a way, telling my trauma story — and owning what I'd been through and how I got myself through it — empowered me. It gave me a sense of purpose and a feeling of pride; it also gifted me with much-needed validation. 

Sharing your trauma with safe people can be an important part of processing what you've been through. However, there are some dangers to over-identifying with your trauma story.

The Dangers of Over-Identifying with Your Trauma

As noted above, telling my trauma story was empowering for quite some time. I began to view myself as strong, worthy, and resilient rather than shameful, weak, and flawed. However, I eventually reached a point where it was all I could talk about. I over-identified with my story and trauma so much that it nearly became my entire personality. Little did I know that this habit — which once served me — was now keeping me small.

For years, I fed into the idea that I was permanently damaged and unable to lead a fulfilling life. I almost basked in my victimhood, as it excused my behavior and toxic thought patterns. Any time I faced adversity, I would tell myself, "You're struggling because you went through x, y, and z as a child."

Rather than taking accountability, I blamed most of my issues on my trauma. Of course, this isn't to say that my trauma didn't greatly impact my life and my nervous system — it certainly took a toll for decades. However, I was the one who continued to fuel the narrative that I would never overcome it.

Not only did I crave validation and sympathy when telling my trauma story (which is natural and perfectly okay in small doses, by the way), but I also willingly surrendered my own power. I recounted the story in a way that painted me as a vulnerable victim who couldn't possibly save herself — and I started believing it. If you choose to sit in your victimhood, over-identifying with your story for too long, you might end up doubting your ability to get better. You might even find comfort in those negative emotions and beliefs because they're so familiar. 

Telling Your Trauma Story Without Over-Identifying with It

I am in no way implying that you shouldn't tell your trauma story, and I'm certainly not demonizing victimhood, either. In my case, if I hadn't self-validated my being a victim, I never would have deemed my trauma "bad enough" to receive help. I never would have sought therapy and professional guidance. I would have kept brushing it under the rug. The issue arises when you adopt a victim mindset that renders you helpless.

You can tell your trauma story in a way that empowers you. This starts, as most positive habits do, with mindfulness. Be self-aware when sharing your story. Ask yourself: Do I feel more empowered or more ashamed when recounting my trauma? Am I lessening the intensity of my emotions associated with this memory, or am I fueling them? Am I opening up to safe people, or am I allowing the wrong individuals access to my most intimate, vulnerable memories? What are my intentions behind telling my story — to help myself (and others) process and heal or to gain more validation and justify unhealthy behavior?

Based on the answers to the questions above, you might consider shifting the way you speak about your trauma. Sharing your darkest memories should help you address the pain they inflicted, not deepen the wounds — and certainly not paint you as powerless.

For more information on how to tell your trauma story without over-identifying with it, check out this video:

My name is Kris McElroy, and I am the new author of the Dissociative Living blog. I received a diagnosis of dissociative identity disorder (DID) in 2013 when I was 28 years old. Since then, I have been navigating the complexities of living with DID, especially in relation to parenting, coexisting with alters, professional pursuits, and interpersonal relationships. I aspire to foster a shared understanding through the exchange of our experiences as we navigate the journey of dissociative living together.

Kris McElroy's Diagnosis of Dissociative Identity Disorder

My mental health journey began during my freshman year of college, a decade prior to receiving my diagnosis. I navigated through a tumultuous period marked by numerous diagnoses, more than 30 medications, cycles through various treatment programs, and the persistent struggle to establish lasting stability. As my understanding of dissociative identity disorder (DID) deepened, it became apparent that, although formally diagnosed at 28, I had been contending with symptoms and living with the condition since childhood, stemming from chronic severe trauma.

My initial encounter with DID unfolded within the confines of a psychiatric office situated in a hospital's psychiatric unit. Experiencing disorientation, confusion, and fear, I found myself there without clarity regarding the events of the preceding three days, providing conflicting personal details to different staff members. These episodes were growing in frequency, each occurrence leaving me unsettled. A DID diagnosis was determined during my stay in the general inpatient unit, leading to my transfer to the trauma disorders inpatient treatment program.

The subsequent three years were dedicated to active participation in a specialized dissociative disorders trauma program and intensive therapeutic intervention. During this period, I applied for and was granted social security disability, sought support for independent living, and strategically distanced myself from sources of trauma. My primary focus shifted towards grounding, crisis management, and engaging in internal family systems work.

Learn more about me and my goals for Dissociative Living in this video:

Dissociative Living is Possible for Kris McElroy

Most days, when I wake up, I still can't believe how far I've come living with DID. I've been a volunteer for two years. My wife and I will soon be celebrating our four-year wedding anniversary together. I am a parent to an amazing three-year-old. I have re-entered the traditional workforce and have been holding down a small part-time job for almost a year. My alters and I are still learning to work together by attending weekly therapy sessions to continue growing our communication and widening our window of tolerance. We are in this together, taking it one moment at a time.

Verbal abuse can affect many areas of life, including your view of body image and diet. Because this abusive tactic targets your self-esteem, experiencing negative comments about your weight can directly impact how you manage food consumption. In short, verbal abuse can affect your diet choices.

Although I've managed to maintain an average size most of my life, there were times when I was overweight. During these periods, I was vulnerable to remarks I received about my body.

Verbal Abuse Can Alter Your Self-Image and Diet Choices

Some comments were purposely hurtful, while others came from individuals who were not verbally abusive and had good intentions. However, my heightened anxiety made me more sensitive to any mention of my size or food. They included ones like these:

• Are you still running every day? (I thought they were saying I looked like I had stopped exercising and was out of shape.)
• There's only enough food for everyone to have one plate. (I thought they were saying I would eat too much.)
• Are you having chips for lunch? (I thought they were judging my food choices.)
• Do you know how many calories are in that? (I thought they were saying I looked like I should have restricted my calorie intake.)
• I could never eat that stuff. It's too sweet for me. (I thought they were saying my food choices were not healthy.)

Although these individuals may have just been trying to strike up a conversation, my history of verbal abuse continued to affect my reactions. The way my brain processes comments can be exaggerated, creating more anxiety and a lower sense of self-worth. 

Healing from Verbal Abuse Changes Dietary Choices

It can be challenging to move on from verbal abuse when you're sensitive to topics like your weight or food choices. I've realized that I can control what I eat, even if I can't control someone's behavior. For some individuals, developing an eating disorder might be one way to combat the verbal abuse they've received regarding their size. 

Unfortunately, I've taken drastic measures in the past to try and lose weight and limit my diet when I thought I was too heavy. After years of therapy and proper dietary coaching, I've realized that there are healthier ways to manage my food consumption without beating myself up about it. 

A few strategies I've used to keep those negative feelings at bay while struggling with my weight were: 

• Drinking a full glass of water before every meal
• Putting my fork down between bites
• Increasing my fruit and vegetable intake
• Monitoring my daily activity
• Allowing myself to enjoy small treats in moderation

I still struggle with that voice in my head that mimics the verbal abuse around diet I had received. When I overindulge in unhealthy foods, I have to push away thoughts surrounding my lack of self-control. I can hear my abusers from the past mocking me for taking another piece of cake, but I'm slowly getting better. 

If you find it challenging to follow a healthy diet because of sustained verbal abuse, you aren't alone. Getting the support you need is vital to building better habits and improved self-worth. 

Schizoaffective anxiety and recovering from surgery are a particularly bad combination. Yesterday, I was picking up some packages from the mail room. The mailroom is down a flight of stairs from our apartment. Only one package of four free COVID tests would fit in my tote bag, so I had to carry the other one by hand. I have a system for getting the mail on such occasions since I just had double knee surgery, and it’s hard for me to get up and down stairs. Schizoaffective anxiety in recovery makes it harder because I'm scared.

My system is that I use my cane in one hand, and I hold onto the railing with the other. The tote bag is so that I can put the mail in it but still hold onto the banister.

Well, since I had an extra package in my hand, it was hard—but not impossible—to hold onto the railing. So, despite my schizoaffective anxiety, I decided to take a chance and go up the stairs with everything.

All seemed well at first. But as I got closer to the top of the stairs, I felt scared. I don’t know if this was my schizoaffective anxiety kicking in. It was almost as if I could feel all the stairs below me breathing up my back. I was so afraid I would fall. I was terrified when I had to take my hand off the railing to reach up as I progressed up the stairs. Finally, I got to the top of the stairs. Right before I got there, I threw the package I was holding in my hand into the hallway that led to my door. What a relief.

My Coping Skills for Schizoaffective Anxiety During Recovery

I was shaken about my surgical recovery after that because of my schizoaffective anxiety. Luckily, I had a glass of ice water on the table and Scarlet’s Walk by Tori Amos in the CD player. I tried to calm myself down with that, but finally, I needed to take a tranquilizer prescribed for anxiety. I also had a chocolate from a box that was a Christmas gift. Then I put on a ring that comforts me because it’s from my great aunt who passed away, and I ate a small serving of apple sauce. It took a lot of ritual to carry that one extra package.

My psychiatric nurse practitioner and I are working on lowering how much of the tranquilizer I take in one day. I’ve already gone from three pills a day to two. Other than that, I just wish I didn’t turn to food for my schizoaffective anxiety during recovery. That’s why music is so important to me—listening to music takes the edge off, and Scarlet’s Walk is one of my go-to albums for when I need to calm down. Hopefully, in the future, I won’t need to rely on tranquilizers or food when my schizoaffective anxiety acts up.