#I've been stressing about inventory the past few months

[zephyrine-gale]

What days are you going to be at anime expo? And what location if anything is already set in stone? Sorry if it's rude to ask! Your stuff looks really cool <3

Thank you!

I'll be there on all four days, so July 1-4. The convention is in LA!

[dausy]

Tomorrow, my spouse leaves for the field for the next month. Not sure when he will be home exactly but I think it's going to be a day of very anxious energy like it usually is. Its been a very stress past 2 weeks for him. He started this job apparently walking into an unorganized mess.

meanwhile, I got my first paycheck from my job which I promptly speant a chunk of on new art supplies. I would like to be able to talk about my job but theres not really any privacy on the internet. I think its going fine, it has a few red flags but the work imo is actually kind of fun and not bad and I think the hours are fine. Its also close to where I live and I'm getting plenty of sleep. I have had a couple snags with scheduling though and the biggest issue for me that makes me feel like a failure is that I am not bilingual. Obviously being able to speak the predominant language of an area is important for safety but I was not raised in a bilingual environment and I can't go back in time to change that. At the same time I want money and I only have a particular set of skills so..I've studied spanish for years but I've never had to use it in real life until now. I feel like I've learned a lot in the past couple weeks though but this girl still can't get her brain and mouth to work in sync. I also get told on the daily that my accent is cute.

Next week I'm working in pre-op which is my favorite area normally. I can do it frontwards/backwards/blindfolded and I can guarantee I am a better IV stick than what I've seen started on these patients. However, again, its the language. I'm about to learn a brand new set of vocabulary.

otherwise I've been hanging out with my spouse consoling him in his "final days" so I haven't had time to sit and paint. I'm actually currently suffering from that "I have too many idea but feel like I need to do the first ideas first before starting a new project" and its clogging the creative process because the first projects are not coming out.

a couple things I want to do is I'd really like to make me a personalized enamel pin which I know is all the rage but I want just one for me. I'd also really like to start a new sketchbook of little random doodles that could potentially be like journal stickers. But I feel like I need to finish my illustration journal first or it'd get neglected.

I want to try out, like pretend, if I were to have a stall at a farmers market what would my inventory be. Seems like theres plenty in the local area. I one of these days as well would like to visit the neighboring town because they apparently have a huge one and they have 2 local art supply store. I'm not really brave enough to go out and travel on my own.

[prismadog]

Found Family AU: Divided [Emptober 16]

so...obviously I'm a bit behind on the whole Emptober thing if I'm just now working on 16 but ya know what? I don't care. I needed a little break from this - the stress of trying to catch up was well...stressing, but now that the month is over, I don't have to worry anymore about getting these done on time because I'm going to be late no matter what :D isn't it great?

also, I've been playing a lot of java lately and working on an outline for an actual fanfic featuring our beloved little gnome Shrub and her demon Dad XorXor! I'm gonna start writing that out soon after I finish chapter 4 of "to Love my Enemy", and like always, I'll be making a link posty thingamajig to the story once its uploaded. but that's not gonna happen for at least a little bit longer.

anyway, moving on to the Emptober prompt. I decided to take a step back from our usual characters and instead write about someone else...someone who's related to the demon - no, not Alinar, though, I do have another day or so for him set aside.

-

Divided

He enters his room, footsteps soft against the floorboards, and drops face-first like a ragdoll on the cyan double bed.

Why?

He asks silently. He turns his head so he's not suffocating himself - not that it matters much, he'll just respawn anyway...but it's always such a tiring experience and he'd rather not deal with that right now. Though, maybe a few minutes in the void that is respawn would help him get his bearings?

He's Aeor's Champion.

He, Scott Smajor, Elfking of Rivendell, brother to the monster that plagues the land -

Is a Champion.

Scott rolls onto his back and pulls the sword from his inventory - the blade catches on the lamplight and almost glows in his hand.

Why?

Why did Aeor have to give him this?

Why did Aeor bless him with these antlers?

Why does he have to take arms against the demon - against his brother?

The sword is beautiful - white steel with gold engravings in the tongue of elves, a blessing from their benevolent god. It's a long blade but light, the handle fits perfectly in his calloused hand.

It's like the sword was meant for him.

which, it technically is.

Aeor gave him this sword just a few hours ago when he asked for guidance, when he asked the Stag for a cure - a way to heal the demon and return them to their former self, to the brother he knew only in a past life.

The Stag gave him...

this.

Aeor...He's supposed to believe in peace, equality, preserving life.

This.

This is not the way he expected his God to help.

This sword is a death sentence.

Why?

Why does he have to kill the demon? Why does he have to murder his long lost brother?

Isn't there a better way?

There has to be right?

He can't really be expected to kill Xornoth...

can he?

Sure, the demon is bad - really bad, a terror on this world that only wants to corrupt and destroy -

but...

They're also his brother -

And if his assumptions are correct, they're also Shrub's father, which seriously, what?

That monster being the father of his sweet little gnome friend, how? what? She's too kind to be the child of a ruthless, merciless, entity that only wants to hurt others - what about that time she stabbed Joey for calling Xornoth 'Daddy?' his brain "helpfully" reminds him.

He ignores the thought.

How does that even work?

Xornoth is a demon, might technically still be an elf underneath the darkness and corruption, and Shrub is a gnome. Did his brother really get out an - no. not going there. He does not need to think about his brother in that context. Nope.

Scott sighs, returning the sword to his inventory, and rolls onto his side to free up his wings and let them stretch out behind him. Really, he should be stowing it away in his ender chest but he can always do that later.

The sky outside his windows has started to darken, the stars are glittering like diamonds in the sky. It looks peaceful.

"Can I really kill Xornoth?" he asks the silence of his room, his own voice barely a whisper.

Alinar didn't hesitate to banish them.

So why is he hesitating now?

He and Alinar are one in the same.

Shouldn't he be able to do this?

Shouldn't he want to do this? To be the hero that slays the beast?

Alinar wouldn't hesitate.

Alinar would do what he must to protect his people, even if that means murdering his own flesh and blood.

So why doesn't Scott?

He is Alinar.

Alinar is him.

Why doesn't he want to kill Xornoth? To free the land from corruption?

Why does he want to cure the demon of its ailment and embrace the brother he never knew?

Why does he feel like asking Aeor for guidance was a mistake?

[rae-redacted]

Holy shit. So my co team leader, A, supervises this one guy, C, who wasnt a problem while we were in the office because he wasn't actually on our team and we only interacted in very limited situations. C has been at this company for 20 years and was known as being "weird" for a variety of reasons including but not limited to womanizing, alcoholism, and gambling.

But after covid sent us all home, he suddenly had to work on our contract. I'd already had B, my own constant nightmare, so when my boss, L, asked if I wanted to take C, I said absolutely not. That meant A had to.

Over the last 4 months, C has not only not improved, but he has actively slowed productivity by an inordinate amount and everyday I got screenshots of the excuses and justifications he gave A for the his poor performance. A was not shy about telling him off, but he never took any of her comments or corrections or anything, and he continued to put out garbage work.

Over the last few weeks I stressed to A that it was woefully unacceptable, and she needed to tell L about his work, but she just never did it.

This past Thursday was the last straw for me. I was sick of seeing her so frustrated, so unbeknownst to A, I told my boss about all the shit be was saying that day which, in his effort to shift accountability, had devolved into an hour long diatribe on his "other job" aka "gambling addiction."

L had known about C's manipulation tactics (he had done a weird love-bombesque thing earlier in the week) but had no idea how bad it was until she looked at his self-reported production stats and saw that he was reporting "400-500 pgs" daily (we work for a court reporting firm and we have things in pages...most of my coworkers only get 250 or 3 on a really good day while A and I do 800+ regularly). HOWEVER, given C's alleged production, he should have been further in the inventory queue. Turns out he'd been doing work two or three times (incorrectly each time) and counting each pass as new pages.

So now, unbeknownst to C, L will be reviewing all his work and god I hope she fucks him up so badly. That asshole has multiple times on conference calls said shit to the effect of "I need to be the leader here. Set a good example. I've been here so long that I'm held to a higher standard," all the while literally turning in work that anyone would be embarrassed to hand to the fucking federal government.

Ugh. This guy is the absolute worst.

[melipixie]

NaKniCroMo 2019

Week 1: Meet the Maker!

Day 1: Share your goal

Gearing up for my first NaKniCroMo! This month, I've got a few goals in mind. Some may or may not happen, some of them may go through some sort of metamorphosis and become something else, I'm just gonna be forgiving with myself and make this a month of fun, not stress. Here we go!

Goal #1: Write my first big pattern using this yarn!

I want it to be a skirt, with a fairly open motif, through which I can show off my FinFolk Productions mermaid tail scale leggings! What you see there that is already crocheted is too big, and also I don't like how it's turning out. I'm going to frog it and start again, with better math this time! My FMIL got me this yarn for Christmas and I hope there's enough of it for this project. But if not, I know how to rip, and I have some other ideas in mind 😉

Goal #2: Two pairs of slippers out of this yarn.

The blue tones are for my grandma, and the purples are for my aunt. They both need new slippers, so this will be the first quick project of the month! I expect them to take just over half the week total for both pairs.

Goal #3: Hoping to make at least one amigurumi per week, like these guys here!

This will help me build my inventory for the upcoming craft show, which I will talk more about later, hopefully. But if not a weekly amigurumi, then at least something to help build my inventory, like some hats or gloves or who knows!

Goal #4: Stash busting! I hope to make at least two medium-sized granny squares from my unused scraps every day. If I manage to make 60, that should be enough to make a blanket for our bed. Right?! My fiance seems to really like granny squares, so I would like to surprise him with a blanket by the end of April. We'll have to see how this goal goes, though, as I hear it is common to drastically underestimate how much yarn one needs for a blanket, and my entire past year has been one big decades-old stash being busted with small project after small project 😅

Anyway this first post is long enough, once I complete my goals for Day 1 I'll take a photo and update from there!

If you like my work here, please consider checking out my Etsy shop, FinsNStitches. Link will be in the reblog!

[frogsandfries]

On "our" minds

My partner brought to my attention that this past spring, we (mostly me) had wanted to get into some craft shows by the holiday season.

It's basically the holiday season--at least, it's the time when crafters and vendors would be reserving booths and tables at shows. And we haven't even ordered a single batch of stickers. Let alone purchased any tables, table coverings, displays, storage. Nuthin.

Between working myself into a burnout and maximum stress about the apartment--how unpredictable rent is and how relatively expensive it is and can be. And then how fucking exhausted I've been working myself up from forty hours to fifty plus. I almost forgot my plans to release my Halloween collection. For a few days here, I've just been slacking away at updating the collection, but I think I'll hit a dozen or so stickers in time for Halloween, and maybe I'll start on next year's collection like I thought I would this past summer.

Ohhhhhhh....... so, we started talking about what it would take to get a booth, what it would take to get my views and visits and purchases up. We talked about doing some guerrilla marketing. I told my partner, we'd need packaging and some kind of display, and these days, you need a card reader as well as a cash box, unless the venue is specifically going cashless. If I'm going cashless, I should have a shop, we'll need to set up inventory, obviously anything that doesn't sell in person would continue to be available. So honestly, if I could get a card reader, we could probably use Etsy or whatnot.

I think I'll see what's out there as far as pins, buttons and stickers, but I think for starters, even if I have like, a thousand dollars to put toward merchandise, I may only be able to print a few designs in a few styles-- so only a few sticker designs, a few keychain designs and a few pins or buttons. I think for buttons, I'm leaning toward wood rather than metal or acrylic, at least at first, because I know proper enamel pins are going to be extremely expensive AND demand that my designs be entirely retooled with solid colors and possibly even limited color palettes--so Halloween cupcake grandparent mouse, for example, would lose the delightful plaid design, and the cupcakes would have to be simplified. Plus, wooden buttons are just such a cool concept, super lightweight, with the natural wood texture.

I might just grab a few designs in a single product line every couple of months. I just get so overwhelmed at the thought of acquiring packaging and/or backing cards, designing backing cards and stickers, getting some kind of box or envelope for in-person and shipping purchases. And then you have to mount all the pins, put everything in some kind of protective pouch, get stickers or something to personalize your packaging...... Obviously, once it's all in front of me, it's a super-easy matter of just putting it together, but.......so much shopping. And what if I put in all this effort, and I don't feel like I have any success? Do I try again somewhere else? Do I double down? Furthermore, where am I going to get a card reader? How much is that going to cost?

I know the obvious solution is to just take everything one step at a time, acquire a little bit of storage for merchandise, a little merchandise, a little packaging. From there, I can design some backing cards and business cards, get some more product, get some of the other things that I'll need to go live.

Solutions that are not solutions?

Wait until I feel like my portfolio is big enough.

Wait until the last minute to do everything and panic or burn myself out, especially to the point of threatening my actual job.

Nowwww............... which designs? I have a few different collections, some that I'm kind of putzing through, and some that I'm tearing through with gusto. I bet I could costume swap more of the princesses, or even graduate from chibis to a more...... not mature, but...... interesting? Detailed? Going from chibis to like full character designs is kind of a different line or collection though, and leaves this collection unresolved. Luckily, I don't think at a craft fair or whatnot, anyone is going to come after me for a copyright strike, so I could probably put a little more time into that collection. I'm sure that collection wouldn't go amiss out in the wild.

[gayyogurt-blog]

What I've learned about caring for my mental health since having a breakdown

What I've learned about caring for my mental health since having a breakdown

October 10th is World Mental Health Day.

You can't tell by looking at me, but three years ago, I had a complete breakdown-or an emotional health crisis. A lot has happened in the time since. I've taken a few steps forward, then twice the amount of steps back. I've been split apart and put back together. But most importantly, I'm still here, still navigating who I've become in the aftermath of something so earth-shattering, and still hoping to be seen.

If you've never witnessed, experienced, or heard of a mental health breakdown, it's an acute manifestation of an already lingering anxiety, depression, or bipolar disorder. The result is an inability to function in everyday life, feelings of hopelessness, and/or a feeling that you will never be “normal” again. It's an isolated state because you've either hidden the warning signs from loved ones, or denied them yourself. Even when managed, my anxiety and depression have me white-knuckling a cliff so as not to drop. If you know what panic feels like, then imagine a breakdown as a heightened version of that state-like trying to see through your car windshield while driving in a monsoon. That feeling doesn't let up until you've quite literally cracked up.

My experience, which happened after months of ignoring red flags, was a combination of stress, undiagnosed disorders wreaking havoc on my everyday life (specifically OCD and PTSD), occasional suicidal ideation, and the smallest of triggers (an argument that quickly went awry). In an instant, my panic inflated from 1 to 100. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't see past my rapid heartbeat. I not only felt like the room was collapsing in on me, but the whole world. This definitive moment-one so burned into my memory that I can recall an internal sound, like the heated sizzle of my short-circuiting brain wires-became the catalyst for why I split in two.

There was the me before this event, and the me after. The in-between no longer existed.

Immediately after, I was numb. I'd been protected by a shell until the shell splintered and disintegrated to nothing. Left to fend for myself (or so I felt at the time), I became catatonic, fueled only by tears and the belief that I could never be okay again. I still remember lying on the floor with my laptop in front of me, desperate to find the help I knew I so desperately needed. But, as I quickly found, mental health care is complicated.

Here are some things I learned throughout this incredibly raw time. I hope this information can help you if you ever find yourself in a similar situation:

1. You have to reach out, even if you don't feel like it.

At the time, I was blessed with an amazing support system at my job. They weren't only my friends or my coworkers, but my family. Even still, I hesitated telling them what had happened to me, for fear of judgment. I was embarrassed by something that I couldn't control.

When I finally sent the emails and texts explaining what I was recovering from, I felt a sense of relief by getting it off my chest and I was greeted with the exact love, support, and encouragement that I should've come to expect from these people. I will forever consider them my saviors for hearing me, seeing me, and reminding me that I am not alone in this world. If you don't have a support system, it's imperative that you talk to someone. Take advantage of counselors through accessible mental health resources. It could mean the difference between coming back from the brink or dropping from that aforementioned cliff.

Your mental health is important too #WorldMentalHealthDay pic.twitter.com/9Y2znMhm5P

- Action for Happiness (@actionhappiness) October 9, 2018

2. The path to recovery may be tedious.

Shortly after my breakdown, as I lay on the floor with my laptop while my husband desperately tried to understand, I searched for help. And I searched. And I searched. And I searched. Turns out, when you factor in insurance barriers, the fact that you are not feeling suicidal in that exact moment, and a doctor's track record for successful treatment, finding good health care is more difficult than it sounds. Most of the professionals who I wanted to see were completely booked with appointments that had already been set months in advance. and had room for emergencies only. I wasn't a threat to myself-just more dazed and lost than usual-and I told myself that those spots should be reserved for someone in far darker places than I felt at the time. But I still needed help.

Days later, I called a help line and an inpatient facility, and the reality of it all terrified me into hanging up. I believed I could figure it out on my own-however wrong that idea was. But I forced myself to keep searching for treatment because my life and emotional well-being was at stake. I am so glad I did, because I eventually found the right, available doctors for me.

No matter how much work it is, you have to keep searching.

Leanne Surfleet/Getty Images

3. Go to the appointments and do the work, even when it gets exhausting.

At the beginning of my treatment, I went through three forms of therapy. I'm a believer in going big or going home, and this was the most important thing I've ever needed to go big for. One therapist specialized in cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT), where I learned tools for grounding myself in the present moment. CBT challenged me to stop grieving my past and to stop looking into the future so I could breathe in the present. I'm not going to lie; it's hard. I failed (still fail) often. It takes practice, and sometimes, I don't feel mentally fit to go through the motions. But when done properly, it works for me.

My second therapist helped me work through childhood traumas that were the long-standing cause of my breakdown. These sessions were emotionally draining and I often left exhausted after cleansing myself of all that plagued me. Seeing this therapist meant facing my demons head on. It was the most difficult thing I've ever done and, to be honest, I stopped going after my grandmother died. As my therapist herself warned, my grandma was the glue holding a lot of me together. Without her in my life, I didn't feel strong enough to continue such intensive therapy. That's what's so hard about these disorders: They lie, convincing you that you aren't strong enough. I know I am now.

The third form of therapy was group grief counseling to address my deepest wound-the loss of my biological father to cancer. As I sat, listening to others share their stories of loss, I began to understand that I truly wasn't alone. On some level, we all understand pain.

KatarzynaBialasiewicz/Getty Images

4. Practice continual self-care.

As the mother of two children with multiple jobs and to-do lists, I'm never not busy. That takes a toll. After the incident, I took a hard look at all I'd done to take care of myself despite whatever life demanded of me-a kind of inventory. Turns out, I'm the last person that I care for, often shorting myself in the event that someone else needs something first. I wasn't doing myself or my emotional health any favors by trying to please everyone all the time, holding my frustrations inside, and blaming myself for every upsetting moment in the history of life.

Today, we are highlighting the millions of strong and brave individuals who live with mental illness. Remember, your journey is worth sharing. #MIAW pic.twitter.com/DtIrFfcOME

- NAMI (@NAMICommunicate) October 9, 2018

5. Accept that caring for your mental health is an ongoing, imperfect journey.

Three years ago, I didn't know how to forgive myself for things beyond my control. I didn't know how to move on from my past or how to admit I'm a flawed human who sometimes needs more than she's willing to ask for (if she'll even ask at all). I still suffer from my disorders and I still have to work to manage them. But now, when all starts feeling lost again, I don't ignore the warning signs. I take precautionary measures like seeking support and health care, pouring myself into something that makes me happy, practicing self-care, and most of all, being patient with myself.

Mental health isn't a destination; it's a journey you'll be on for the rest of your life.

One bad day doesn't ruin them all. You will mess up. You will still cry. You will still battle the same emotions that brought you to your knees in the first place. In the three years since I've accepted my reality, I now understand things I couldn't in my “before.” I'm stronger than I give myself credit for, and if you see pieces of yourself in my story, then let me be the first to say that you are, too.

So, hold on, friend. You are seen.

If you are struggling and need help, call the National Alliance on Mental Illness HelpLine at 1-800-950-NAMI (6264), available Monday through Friday, 10 a.m.–6 p.m., ET. If this is an emergency, you can call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-TALK (8255) or text NAMI's Crisis Line at 741-741.

The post What I've learned about caring for my mental health since having a breakdown appeared first on HelloGiggles.

[dragons-in-bowties-blog]

What I've learned about caring for my mental health since having a breakdown

What I've learned about caring for my mental health since having a breakdown

October 10th is World Mental Health Day.

You can't tell by looking at me, but three years ago, I had a complete breakdown-or an emotional health crisis. A lot has happened in the time since. I've taken a few steps forward, then twice the amount of steps back. I've been split apart and put back together. But most importantly, I'm still here, still navigating who I've become in the aftermath of something so earth-shattering, and still hoping to be seen.

If you've never witnessed, experienced, or heard of a mental health breakdown, it's an acute manifestation of an already lingering anxiety, depression, or bipolar disorder. The result is an inability to function in everyday life, feelings of hopelessness, and/or a feeling that you will never be “normal” again. It's an isolated state because you've either hidden the warning signs from loved ones, or denied them yourself. Even when managed, my anxiety and depression have me white-knuckling a cliff so as not to drop. If you know what panic feels like, then imagine a breakdown as a heightened version of that state-like trying to see through your car windshield while driving in a monsoon. That feeling doesn't let up until you've quite literally cracked up.

My experience, which happened after months of ignoring red flags, was a combination of stress, undiagnosed disorders wreaking havoc on my everyday life (specifically OCD and PTSD), occasional suicidal ideation, and the smallest of triggers (an argument that quickly went awry). In an instant, my panic inflated from 1 to 100. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't see past my rapid heartbeat. I not only felt like the room was collapsing in on me, but the whole world. This definitive moment-one so burned into my memory that I can recall an internal sound, like the heated sizzle of my short-circuiting brain wires-became the catalyst for why I split in two.

There was the me before this event, and the me after. The in-between no longer existed.

Immediately after, I was numb. I'd been protected by a shell until the shell splintered and disintegrated to nothing. Left to fend for myself (or so I felt at the time), I became catatonic, fueled only by tears and the belief that I could never be okay again. I still remember lying on the floor with my laptop in front of me, desperate to find the help I knew I so desperately needed. But, as I quickly found, mental health care is complicated.

Here are some things I learned throughout this incredibly raw time. I hope this information can help you if you ever find yourself in a similar situation:

1. You have to reach out, even if you don't feel like it.

At the time, I was blessed with an amazing support system at my job. They weren't only my friends or my coworkers, but my family. Even still, I hesitated telling them what had happened to me, for fear of judgment. I was embarrassed by something that I couldn't control.

When I finally sent the emails and texts explaining what I was recovering from, I felt a sense of relief by getting it off my chest and I was greeted with the exact love, support, and encouragement that I should've come to expect from these people. I will forever consider them my saviors for hearing me, seeing me, and reminding me that I am not alone in this world. If you don't have a support system, it's imperative that you talk to someone. Take advantage of counselors through accessible mental health resources. It could mean the difference between coming back from the brink or dropping from that aforementioned cliff.

Your mental health is important too #WorldMentalHealthDay pic.twitter.com/9Y2znMhm5P

- Action for Happiness (@actionhappiness) October 9, 2018

2. The path to recovery may be tedious.

Shortly after my breakdown, as I lay on the floor with my laptop while my husband desperately tried to understand, I searched for help. And I searched. And I searched. And I searched. Turns out, when you factor in insurance barriers, the fact that you are not feeling suicidal in that exact moment, and a doctor's track record for successful treatment, finding good health care is more difficult than it sounds. Most of the professionals who I wanted to see were completely booked with appointments that had already been set months in advance. and had room for emergencies only. I wasn't a threat to myself-just more dazed and lost than usual-and I told myself that those spots should be reserved for someone in far darker places than I felt at the time. But I still needed help.

Days later, I called a help line and an inpatient facility, and the reality of it all terrified me into hanging up. I believed I could figure it out on my own-however wrong that idea was. But I forced myself to keep searching for treatment because my life and emotional well-being was at stake. I am so glad I did, because I eventually found the right, available doctors for me.

No matter how much work it is, you have to keep searching.

Leanne Surfleet/Getty Images

3. Go to the appointments and do the work, even when it gets exhausting.

At the beginning of my treatment, I went through three forms of therapy. I'm a believer in going big or going home, and this was the most important thing I've ever needed to go big for. One therapist specialized in cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT), where I learned tools for grounding myself in the present moment. CBT challenged me to stop grieving my past and to stop looking into the future so I could breathe in the present. I'm not going to lie; it's hard. I failed (still fail) often. It takes practice, and sometimes, I don't feel mentally fit to go through the motions. But when done properly, it works for me.

My second therapist helped me work through childhood traumas that were the long-standing cause of my breakdown. These sessions were emotionally draining and I often left exhausted after cleansing myself of all that plagued me. Seeing this therapist meant facing my demons head on. It was the most difficult thing I've ever done and, to be honest, I stopped going after my grandmother died. As my therapist herself warned, my grandma was the glue holding a lot of me together. Without her in my life, I didn't feel strong enough to continue such intensive therapy. That's what's so hard about these disorders: They lie, convincing you that you aren't strong enough. I know I am now.

The third form of therapy was group grief counseling to address my deepest wound-the loss of my biological father to cancer. As I sat, listening to others share their stories of loss, I began to understand that I truly wasn't alone. On some level, we all understand pain.

KatarzynaBialasiewicz/Getty Images

4. Practice continual self-care.

As the mother of two children with multiple jobs and to-do lists, I'm never not busy. That takes a toll. After the incident, I took a hard look at all I'd done to take care of myself despite whatever life demanded of me-a kind of inventory. Turns out, I'm the last person that I care for, often shorting myself in the event that someone else needs something first. I wasn't doing myself or my emotional health any favors by trying to please everyone all the time, holding my frustrations inside, and blaming myself for every upsetting moment in the history of life.

Today, we are highlighting the millions of strong and brave individuals who live with mental illness. Remember, your journey is worth sharing. #MIAW pic.twitter.com/DtIrFfcOME

- NAMI (@NAMICommunicate) October 9, 2018

5. Accept that caring for your mental health is an ongoing, imperfect journey.

Three years ago, I didn't know how to forgive myself for things beyond my control. I didn't know how to move on from my past or how to admit I'm a flawed human who sometimes needs more than she's willing to ask for (if she'll even ask at all). I still suffer from my disorders and I still have to work to manage them. But now, when all starts feeling lost again, I don't ignore the warning signs. I take precautionary measures like seeking support and health care, pouring myself into something that makes me happy, practicing self-care, and most of all, being patient with myself.

Mental health isn't a destination; it's a journey you'll be on for the rest of your life.

One bad day doesn't ruin them all. You will mess up. You will still cry. You will still battle the same emotions that brought you to your knees in the first place. In the three years since I've accepted my reality, I now understand things I couldn't in my “before.” I'm stronger than I give myself credit for, and if you see pieces of yourself in my story, then let me be the first to say that you are, too.

So, hold on, friend. You are seen.

If you are struggling and need help, call the National Alliance on Mental Illness HelpLine at 1-800-950-NAMI (6264), available Monday through Friday, 10 a.m.–6 p.m., ET. If this is an emergency, you can call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-TALK (8255) or text NAMI's Crisis Line at 741-741.

The post What I've learned about caring for my mental health since having a breakdown appeared first on HelloGiggles.

[fuckyeahslightlyamusing-blog]

What I've learned about caring for my mental health since having a breakdown

What I've learned about caring for my mental health since having a breakdown

October 10th is World Mental Health Day.

You can't tell by looking at me, but three years ago, I had a complete breakdown-or an emotional health crisis. A lot has happened in the time since. I've taken a few steps forward, then twice the amount of steps back. I've been split apart and put back together. But most importantly, I'm still here, still navigating who I've become in the aftermath of something so earth-shattering, and still hoping to be seen.

If you've never witnessed, experienced, or heard of a mental health breakdown, it's an acute manifestation of an already lingering anxiety, depression, or bipolar disorder. The result is an inability to function in everyday life, feelings of hopelessness, and/or a feeling that you will never be “normal” again. It's an isolated state because you've either hidden the warning signs from loved ones, or denied them yourself. Even when managed, my anxiety and depression have me white-knuckling a cliff so as not to drop. If you know what panic feels like, then imagine a breakdown as a heightened version of that state-like trying to see through your car windshield while driving in a monsoon. That feeling doesn't let up until you've quite literally cracked up.

My experience, which happened after months of ignoring red flags, was a combination of stress, undiagnosed disorders wreaking havoc on my everyday life (specifically OCD and PTSD), occasional suicidal ideation, and the smallest of triggers (an argument that quickly went awry). In an instant, my panic inflated from 1 to 100. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't see past my rapid heartbeat. I not only felt like the room was collapsing in on me, but the whole world. This definitive moment-one so burned into my memory that I can recall an internal sound, like the heated sizzle of my short-circuiting brain wires-became the catalyst for why I split in two.

There was the me before this event, and the me after. The in-between no longer existed.

Immediately after, I was numb. I'd been protected by a shell until the shell splintered and disintegrated to nothing. Left to fend for myself (or so I felt at the time), I became catatonic, fueled only by tears and the belief that I could never be okay again. I still remember lying on the floor with my laptop in front of me, desperate to find the help I knew I so desperately needed. But, as I quickly found, mental health care is complicated.

Here are some things I learned throughout this incredibly raw time. I hope this information can help you if you ever find yourself in a similar situation:

1. You have to reach out, even if you don't feel like it.

At the time, I was blessed with an amazing support system at my job. They weren't only my friends or my coworkers, but my family. Even still, I hesitated telling them what had happened to me, for fear of judgment. I was embarrassed by something that I couldn't control.

When I finally sent the emails and texts explaining what I was recovering from, I felt a sense of relief by getting it off my chest and I was greeted with the exact love, support, and encouragement that I should've come to expect from these people. I will forever consider them my saviors for hearing me, seeing me, and reminding me that I am not alone in this world. If you don't have a support system, it's imperative that you talk to someone. Take advantage of counselors through accessible mental health resources. It could mean the difference between coming back from the brink or dropping from that aforementioned cliff.

Your mental health is important too #WorldMentalHealthDay pic.twitter.com/9Y2znMhm5P

- Action for Happiness (@actionhappiness) October 9, 2018

2. The path to recovery may be tedious.

Shortly after my breakdown, as I lay on the floor with my laptop while my husband desperately tried to understand, I searched for help. And I searched. And I searched. And I searched. Turns out, when you factor in insurance barriers, the fact that you are not feeling suicidal in that exact moment, and a doctor's track record for successful treatment, finding good health care is more difficult than it sounds. Most of the professionals who I wanted to see were completely booked with appointments that had already been set months in advance. and had room for emergencies only. I wasn't a threat to myself-just more dazed and lost than usual-and I told myself that those spots should be reserved for someone in far darker places than I felt at the time. But I still needed help.

Days later, I called a help line and an inpatient facility, and the reality of it all terrified me into hanging up. I believed I could figure it out on my own-however wrong that idea was. But I forced myself to keep searching for treatment because my life and emotional well-being was at stake. I am so glad I did, because I eventually found the right, available doctors for me.

No matter how much work it is, you have to keep searching.

Leanne Surfleet/Getty Images

3. Go to the appointments and do the work, even when it gets exhausting.

At the beginning of my treatment, I went through three forms of therapy. I'm a believer in going big or going home, and this was the most important thing I've ever needed to go big for. One therapist specialized in cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT), where I learned tools for grounding myself in the present moment. CBT challenged me to stop grieving my past and to stop looking into the future so I could breathe in the present. I'm not going to lie; it's hard. I failed (still fail) often. It takes practice, and sometimes, I don't feel mentally fit to go through the motions. But when done properly, it works for me.

My second therapist helped me work through childhood traumas that were the long-standing cause of my breakdown. These sessions were emotionally draining and I often left exhausted after cleansing myself of all that plagued me. Seeing this therapist meant facing my demons head on. It was the most difficult thing I've ever done and, to be honest, I stopped going after my grandmother died. As my therapist herself warned, my grandma was the glue holding a lot of me together. Without her in my life, I didn't feel strong enough to continue such intensive therapy. That's what's so hard about these disorders: They lie, convincing you that you aren't strong enough. I know I am now.

The third form of therapy was group grief counseling to address my deepest wound-the loss of my biological father to cancer. As I sat, listening to others share their stories of loss, I began to understand that I truly wasn't alone. On some level, we all understand pain.

KatarzynaBialasiewicz/Getty Images

4. Practice continual self-care.

As the mother of two children with multiple jobs and to-do lists, I'm never not busy. That takes a toll. After the incident, I took a hard look at all I'd done to take care of myself despite whatever life demanded of me-a kind of inventory. Turns out, I'm the last person that I care for, often shorting myself in the event that someone else needs something first. I wasn't doing myself or my emotional health any favors by trying to please everyone all the time, holding my frustrations inside, and blaming myself for every upsetting moment in the history of life.

Today, we are highlighting the millions of strong and brave individuals who live with mental illness. Remember, your journey is worth sharing. #MIAW pic.twitter.com/DtIrFfcOME

- NAMI (@NAMICommunicate) October 9, 2018

5. Accept that caring for your mental health is an ongoing, imperfect journey.

Three years ago, I didn't know how to forgive myself for things beyond my control. I didn't know how to move on from my past or how to admit I'm a flawed human who sometimes needs more than she's willing to ask for (if she'll even ask at all). I still suffer from my disorders and I still have to work to manage them. But now, when all starts feeling lost again, I don't ignore the warning signs. I take precautionary measures like seeking support and health care, pouring myself into something that makes me happy, practicing self-care, and most of all, being patient with myself.

Mental health isn't a destination; it's a journey you'll be on for the rest of your life.

One bad day doesn't ruin them all. You will mess up. You will still cry. You will still battle the same emotions that brought you to your knees in the first place. In the three years since I've accepted my reality, I now understand things I couldn't in my “before.” I'm stronger than I give myself credit for, and if you see pieces of yourself in my story, then let me be the first to say that you are, too.

So, hold on, friend. You are seen.

If you are struggling and need help, call the National Alliance on Mental Illness HelpLine at 1-800-950-NAMI (6264), available Monday through Friday, 10 a.m.–6 p.m., ET. If this is an emergency, you can call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-TALK (8255) or text NAMI's Crisis Line at 741-741.

The post What I've learned about caring for my mental health since having a breakdown appeared first on HelloGiggles.

[typhoonprecious-blog]

What I've learned about caring for my mental health since having a breakdown

What I've learned about caring for my mental health since having a breakdown

October 10th is World Mental Health Day.

You can't tell by looking at me, but three years ago, I had a complete breakdown-or an emotional health crisis. A lot has happened in the time since. I've taken a few steps forward, then twice the amount of steps back. I've been split apart and put back together. But most importantly, I'm still here, still navigating who I've become in the aftermath of something so earth-shattering, and still hoping to be seen.

If you've never witnessed, experienced, or heard of a mental health breakdown, it's an acute manifestation of an already lingering anxiety, depression, or bipolar disorder. The result is an inability to function in everyday life, feelings of hopelessness, and/or a feeling that you will never be “normal” again. It's an isolated state because you've either hidden the warning signs from loved ones, or denied them yourself. Even when managed, my anxiety and depression have me white-knuckling a cliff so as not to drop. If you know what panic feels like, then imagine a breakdown as a heightened version of that state-like trying to see through your car windshield while driving in a monsoon. That feeling doesn't let up until you've quite literally cracked up.

My experience, which happened after months of ignoring red flags, was a combination of stress, undiagnosed disorders wreaking havoc on my everyday life (specifically OCD and PTSD), occasional suicidal ideation, and the smallest of triggers (an argument that quickly went awry). In an instant, my panic inflated from 1 to 100. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't see past my rapid heartbeat. I not only felt like the room was collapsing in on me, but the whole world. This definitive moment-one so burned into my memory that I can recall an internal sound, like the heated sizzle of my short-circuiting brain wires-became the catalyst for why I split in two.

There was the me before this event, and the me after. The in-between no longer existed.

Immediately after, I was numb. I'd been protected by a shell until the shell splintered and disintegrated to nothing. Left to fend for myself (or so I felt at the time), I became catatonic, fueled only by tears and the belief that I could never be okay again. I still remember lying on the floor with my laptop in front of me, desperate to find the help I knew I so desperately needed. But, as I quickly found, mental health care is complicated.

Here are some things I learned throughout this incredibly raw time. I hope this information can help you if you ever find yourself in a similar situation:

1. You have to reach out, even if you don't feel like it.

At the time, I was blessed with an amazing support system at my job. They weren't only my friends or my coworkers, but my family. Even still, I hesitated telling them what had happened to me, for fear of judgment. I was embarrassed by something that I couldn't control.

When I finally sent the emails and texts explaining what I was recovering from, I felt a sense of relief by getting it off my chest and I was greeted with the exact love, support, and encouragement that I should've come to expect from these people. I will forever consider them my saviors for hearing me, seeing me, and reminding me that I am not alone in this world. If you don't have a support system, it's imperative that you talk to someone. Take advantage of counselors through accessible mental health resources. It could mean the difference between coming back from the brink or dropping from that aforementioned cliff.

Your mental health is important too #WorldMentalHealthDay pic.twitter.com/9Y2znMhm5P

- Action for Happiness (@actionhappiness) October 9, 2018

2. The path to recovery may be tedious.

Shortly after my breakdown, as I lay on the floor with my laptop while my husband desperately tried to understand, I searched for help. And I searched. And I searched. And I searched. Turns out, when you factor in insurance barriers, the fact that you are not feeling suicidal in that exact moment, and a doctor's track record for successful treatment, finding good health care is more difficult than it sounds. Most of the professionals who I wanted to see were completely booked with appointments that had already been set months in advance. and had room for emergencies only. I wasn't a threat to myself-just more dazed and lost than usual-and I told myself that those spots should be reserved for someone in far darker places than I felt at the time. But I still needed help.

Days later, I called a help line and an inpatient facility, and the reality of it all terrified me into hanging up. I believed I could figure it out on my own-however wrong that idea was. But I forced myself to keep searching for treatment because my life and emotional well-being was at stake. I am so glad I did, because I eventually found the right, available doctors for me.

No matter how much work it is, you have to keep searching.

Leanne Surfleet/Getty Images

3. Go to the appointments and do the work, even when it gets exhausting.

At the beginning of my treatment, I went through three forms of therapy. I'm a believer in going big or going home, and this was the most important thing I've ever needed to go big for. One therapist specialized in cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT), where I learned tools for grounding myself in the present moment. CBT challenged me to stop grieving my past and to stop looking into the future so I could breathe in the present. I'm not going to lie; it's hard. I failed (still fail) often. It takes practice, and sometimes, I don't feel mentally fit to go through the motions. But when done properly, it works for me.

My second therapist helped me work through childhood traumas that were the long-standing cause of my breakdown. These sessions were emotionally draining and I often left exhausted after cleansing myself of all that plagued me. Seeing this therapist meant facing my demons head on. It was the most difficult thing I've ever done and, to be honest, I stopped going after my grandmother died. As my therapist herself warned, my grandma was the glue holding a lot of me together. Without her in my life, I didn't feel strong enough to continue such intensive therapy. That's what's so hard about these disorders: They lie, convincing you that you aren't strong enough. I know I am now.

The third form of therapy was group grief counseling to address my deepest wound-the loss of my biological father to cancer. As I sat, listening to others share their stories of loss, I began to understand that I truly wasn't alone. On some level, we all understand pain.

KatarzynaBialasiewicz/Getty Images

4. Practice continual self-care.

As the mother of two children with multiple jobs and to-do lists, I'm never not busy. That takes a toll. After the incident, I took a hard look at all I'd done to take care of myself despite whatever life demanded of me-a kind of inventory. Turns out, I'm the last person that I care for, often shorting myself in the event that someone else needs something first. I wasn't doing myself or my emotional health any favors by trying to please everyone all the time, holding my frustrations inside, and blaming myself for every upsetting moment in the history of life.

Today, we are highlighting the millions of strong and brave individuals who live with mental illness. Remember, your journey is worth sharing. #MIAW pic.twitter.com/DtIrFfcOME

- NAMI (@NAMICommunicate) October 9, 2018

5. Accept that caring for your mental health is an ongoing, imperfect journey.

Three years ago, I didn't know how to forgive myself for things beyond my control. I didn't know how to move on from my past or how to admit I'm a flawed human who sometimes needs more than she's willing to ask for (if she'll even ask at all). I still suffer from my disorders and I still have to work to manage them. But now, when all starts feeling lost again, I don't ignore the warning signs. I take precautionary measures like seeking support and health care, pouring myself into something that makes me happy, practicing self-care, and most of all, being patient with myself.

Mental health isn't a destination; it's a journey you'll be on for the rest of your life.

One bad day doesn't ruin them all. You will mess up. You will still cry. You will still battle the same emotions that brought you to your knees in the first place. In the three years since I've accepted my reality, I now understand things I couldn't in my “before.” I'm stronger than I give myself credit for, and if you see pieces of yourself in my story, then let me be the first to say that you are, too.

So, hold on, friend. You are seen.

If you are struggling and need help, call the National Alliance on Mental Illness HelpLine at 1-800-950-NAMI (6264), available Monday through Friday, 10 a.m.–6 p.m., ET. If this is an emergency, you can call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-TALK (8255) or text NAMI's Crisis Line at 741-741.

The post What I've learned about caring for my mental health since having a breakdown appeared first on HelloGiggles.

[cowgirluli-blog]

What I've learned about caring for my mental health since having a breakdown

What I've learned about caring for my mental health since having a breakdown

October 10th is World Mental Health Day.

You can't tell by looking at me, but three years ago, I had a complete breakdown-or an emotional health crisis. A lot has happened in the time since. I've taken a few steps forward, then twice the amount of steps back. I've been split apart and put back together. But most importantly, I'm still here, still navigating who I've become in the aftermath of something so earth-shattering, and still hoping to be seen.

If you've never witnessed, experienced, or heard of a mental health breakdown, it's an acute manifestation of an already lingering anxiety, depression, or bipolar disorder. The result is an inability to function in everyday life, feelings of hopelessness, and/or a feeling that you will never be “normal” again. It's an isolated state because you've either hidden the warning signs from loved ones, or denied them yourself. Even when managed, my anxiety and depression have me white-knuckling a cliff so as not to drop. If you know what panic feels like, then imagine a breakdown as a heightened version of that state-like trying to see through your car windshield while driving in a monsoon. That feeling doesn't let up until you've quite literally cracked up.

My experience, which happened after months of ignoring red flags, was a combination of stress, undiagnosed disorders wreaking havoc on my everyday life (specifically OCD and PTSD), occasional suicidal ideation, and the smallest of triggers (an argument that quickly went awry). In an instant, my panic inflated from 1 to 100. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't see past my rapid heartbeat. I not only felt like the room was collapsing in on me, but the whole world. This definitive moment-one so burned into my memory that I can recall an internal sound, like the heated sizzle of my short-circuiting brain wires-became the catalyst for why I split in two.

There was the me before this event, and the me after. The in-between no longer existed.

Immediately after, I was numb. I'd been protected by a shell until the shell splintered and disintegrated to nothing. Left to fend for myself (or so I felt at the time), I became catatonic, fueled only by tears and the belief that I could never be okay again. I still remember lying on the floor with my laptop in front of me, desperate to find the help I knew I so desperately needed. But, as I quickly found, mental health care is complicated.

Here are some things I learned throughout this incredibly raw time. I hope this information can help you if you ever find yourself in a similar situation:

1. You have to reach out, even if you don't feel like it.

At the time, I was blessed with an amazing support system at my job. They weren't only my friends or my coworkers, but my family. Even still, I hesitated telling them what had happened to me, for fear of judgment. I was embarrassed by something that I couldn't control.

When I finally sent the emails and texts explaining what I was recovering from, I felt a sense of relief by getting it off my chest and I was greeted with the exact love, support, and encouragement that I should've come to expect from these people. I will forever consider them my saviors for hearing me, seeing me, and reminding me that I am not alone in this world. If you don't have a support system, it's imperative that you talk to someone. Take advantage of counselors through accessible mental health resources. It could mean the difference between coming back from the brink or dropping from that aforementioned cliff.

Your mental health is important too #WorldMentalHealthDay pic.twitter.com/9Y2znMhm5P

- Action for Happiness (@actionhappiness) October 9, 2018

2. The path to recovery may be tedious.

Shortly after my breakdown, as I lay on the floor with my laptop while my husband desperately tried to understand, I searched for help. And I searched. And I searched. And I searched. Turns out, when you factor in insurance barriers, the fact that you are not feeling suicidal in that exact moment, and a doctor's track record for successful treatment, finding good health care is more difficult than it sounds. Most of the professionals who I wanted to see were completely booked with appointments that had already been set months in advance. and had room for emergencies only. I wasn't a threat to myself-just more dazed and lost than usual-and I told myself that those spots should be reserved for someone in far darker places than I felt at the time. But I still needed help.

Days later, I called a help line and an inpatient facility, and the reality of it all terrified me into hanging up. I believed I could figure it out on my own-however wrong that idea was. But I forced myself to keep searching for treatment because my life and emotional well-being was at stake. I am so glad I did, because I eventually found the right, available doctors for me.

No matter how much work it is, you have to keep searching.

Leanne Surfleet/Getty Images

3. Go to the appointments and do the work, even when it gets exhausting.

At the beginning of my treatment, I went through three forms of therapy. I'm a believer in going big or going home, and this was the most important thing I've ever needed to go big for. One therapist specialized in cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT), where I learned tools for grounding myself in the present moment. CBT challenged me to stop grieving my past and to stop looking into the future so I could breathe in the present. I'm not going to lie; it's hard. I failed (still fail) often. It takes practice, and sometimes, I don't feel mentally fit to go through the motions. But when done properly, it works for me.

My second therapist helped me work through childhood traumas that were the long-standing cause of my breakdown. These sessions were emotionally draining and I often left exhausted after cleansing myself of all that plagued me. Seeing this therapist meant facing my demons head on. It was the most difficult thing I've ever done and, to be honest, I stopped going after my grandmother died. As my therapist herself warned, my grandma was the glue holding a lot of me together. Without her in my life, I didn't feel strong enough to continue such intensive therapy. That's what's so hard about these disorders: They lie, convincing you that you aren't strong enough. I know I am now.

The third form of therapy was group grief counseling to address my deepest wound-the loss of my biological father to cancer. As I sat, listening to others share their stories of loss, I began to understand that I truly wasn't alone. On some level, we all understand pain.

KatarzynaBialasiewicz/Getty Images

4. Practice continual self-care.

As the mother of two children with multiple jobs and to-do lists, I'm never not busy. That takes a toll. After the incident, I took a hard look at all I'd done to take care of myself despite whatever life demanded of me-a kind of inventory. Turns out, I'm the last person that I care for, often shorting myself in the event that someone else needs something first. I wasn't doing myself or my emotional health any favors by trying to please everyone all the time, holding my frustrations inside, and blaming myself for every upsetting moment in the history of life.

Today, we are highlighting the millions of strong and brave individuals who live with mental illness. Remember, your journey is worth sharing. #MIAW pic.twitter.com/DtIrFfcOME

- NAMI (@NAMICommunicate) October 9, 2018

5. Accept that caring for your mental health is an ongoing, imperfect journey.

Three years ago, I didn't know how to forgive myself for things beyond my control. I didn't know how to move on from my past or how to admit I'm a flawed human who sometimes needs more than she's willing to ask for (if she'll even ask at all). I still suffer from my disorders and I still have to work to manage them. But now, when all starts feeling lost again, I don't ignore the warning signs. I take precautionary measures like seeking support and health care, pouring myself into something that makes me happy, practicing self-care, and most of all, being patient with myself.

Mental health isn't a destination; it's a journey you'll be on for the rest of your life.

One bad day doesn't ruin them all. You will mess up. You will still cry. You will still battle the same emotions that brought you to your knees in the first place. In the three years since I've accepted my reality, I now understand things I couldn't in my “before.” I'm stronger than I give myself credit for, and if you see pieces of yourself in my story, then let me be the first to say that you are, too.

So, hold on, friend. You are seen.

If you are struggling and need help, call the National Alliance on Mental Illness HelpLine at 1-800-950-NAMI (6264), available Monday through Friday, 10 a.m.–6 p.m., ET. If this is an emergency, you can call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-TALK (8255) or text NAMI's Crisis Line at 741-741.

The post What I've learned about caring for my mental health since having a breakdown appeared first on HelloGiggles.

[ungracefulswan-blog]

What I've learned about caring for my mental health since having a breakdown

What I've learned about caring for my mental health since having a breakdown

October 10th is World Mental Health Day.

You can't tell by looking at me, but three years ago, I had a complete breakdown-or an emotional health crisis. A lot has happened in the time since. I've taken a few steps forward, then twice the amount of steps back. I've been split apart and put back together. But most importantly, I'm still here, still navigating who I've become in the aftermath of something so earth-shattering, and still hoping to be seen.

If you've never witnessed, experienced, or heard of a mental health breakdown, it's an acute manifestation of an already lingering anxiety, depression, or bipolar disorder. The result is an inability to function in everyday life, feelings of hopelessness, and/or a feeling that you will never be “normal” again. It's an isolated state because you've either hidden the warning signs from loved ones, or denied them yourself. Even when managed, my anxiety and depression have me white-knuckling a cliff so as not to drop. If you know what panic feels like, then imagine a breakdown as a heightened version of that state-like trying to see through your car windshield while driving in a monsoon. That feeling doesn't let up until you've quite literally cracked up.

My experience, which happened after months of ignoring red flags, was a combination of stress, undiagnosed disorders wreaking havoc on my everyday life (specifically OCD and PTSD), occasional suicidal ideation, and the smallest of triggers (an argument that quickly went awry). In an instant, my panic inflated from 1 to 100. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't see past my rapid heartbeat. I not only felt like the room was collapsing in on me, but the whole world. This definitive moment-one so burned into my memory that I can recall an internal sound, like the heated sizzle of my short-circuiting brain wires-became the catalyst for why I split in two.

There was the me before this event, and the me after. The in-between no longer existed.

Immediately after, I was numb. I'd been protected by a shell until the shell splintered and disintegrated to nothing. Left to fend for myself (or so I felt at the time), I became catatonic, fueled only by tears and the belief that I could never be okay again. I still remember lying on the floor with my laptop in front of me, desperate to find the help I knew I so desperately needed. But, as I quickly found, mental health care is complicated.

Here are some things I learned throughout this incredibly raw time. I hope this information can help you if you ever find yourself in a similar situation:

1. You have to reach out, even if you don't feel like it.

At the time, I was blessed with an amazing support system at my job. They weren't only my friends or my coworkers, but my family. Even still, I hesitated telling them what had happened to me, for fear of judgment. I was embarrassed by something that I couldn't control.

When I finally sent the emails and texts explaining what I was recovering from, I felt a sense of relief by getting it off my chest and I was greeted with the exact love, support, and encouragement that I should've come to expect from these people. I will forever consider them my saviors for hearing me, seeing me, and reminding me that I am not alone in this world. If you don't have a support system, it's imperative that you talk to someone. Take advantage of counselors through accessible mental health resources. It could mean the difference between coming back from the brink or dropping from that aforementioned cliff.

Your mental health is important too #WorldMentalHealthDay pic.twitter.com/9Y2znMhm5P

- Action for Happiness (@actionhappiness) October 9, 2018

2. The path to recovery may be tedious.

Shortly after my breakdown, as I lay on the floor with my laptop while my husband desperately tried to understand, I searched for help. And I searched. And I searched. And I searched. Turns out, when you factor in insurance barriers, the fact that you are not feeling suicidal in that exact moment, and a doctor's track record for successful treatment, finding good health care is more difficult than it sounds. Most of the professionals who I wanted to see were completely booked with appointments that had already been set months in advance. and had room for emergencies only. I wasn't a threat to myself-just more dazed and lost than usual-and I told myself that those spots should be reserved for someone in far darker places than I felt at the time. But I still needed help.

Days later, I called a help line and an inpatient facility, and the reality of it all terrified me into hanging up. I believed I could figure it out on my own-however wrong that idea was. But I forced myself to keep searching for treatment because my life and emotional well-being was at stake. I am so glad I did, because I eventually found the right, available doctors for me.

No matter how much work it is, you have to keep searching.

Leanne Surfleet/Getty Images

3. Go to the appointments and do the work, even when it gets exhausting.

At the beginning of my treatment, I went through three forms of therapy. I'm a believer in going big or going home, and this was the most important thing I've ever needed to go big for. One therapist specialized in cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT), where I learned tools for grounding myself in the present moment. CBT challenged me to stop grieving my past and to stop looking into the future so I could breathe in the present. I'm not going to lie; it's hard. I failed (still fail) often. It takes practice, and sometimes, I don't feel mentally fit to go through the motions. But when done properly, it works for me.

My second therapist helped me work through childhood traumas that were the long-standing cause of my breakdown. These sessions were emotionally draining and I often left exhausted after cleansing myself of all that plagued me. Seeing this therapist meant facing my demons head on. It was the most difficult thing I've ever done and, to be honest, I stopped going after my grandmother died. As my therapist herself warned, my grandma was the glue holding a lot of me together. Without her in my life, I didn't feel strong enough to continue such intensive therapy. That's what's so hard about these disorders: They lie, convincing you that you aren't strong enough. I know I am now.

The third form of therapy was group grief counseling to address my deepest wound-the loss of my biological father to cancer. As I sat, listening to others share their stories of loss, I began to understand that I truly wasn't alone. On some level, we all understand pain.

KatarzynaBialasiewicz/Getty Images

4. Practice continual self-care.

As the mother of two children with multiple jobs and to-do lists, I'm never not busy. That takes a toll. After the incident, I took a hard look at all I'd done to take care of myself despite whatever life demanded of me-a kind of inventory. Turns out, I'm the last person that I care for, often shorting myself in the event that someone else needs something first. I wasn't doing myself or my emotional health any favors by trying to please everyone all the time, holding my frustrations inside, and blaming myself for every upsetting moment in the history of life.

Today, we are highlighting the millions of strong and brave individuals who live with mental illness. Remember, your journey is worth sharing. #MIAW pic.twitter.com/DtIrFfcOME

- NAMI (@NAMICommunicate) October 9, 2018

5. Accept that caring for your mental health is an ongoing, imperfect journey.

Three years ago, I didn't know how to forgive myself for things beyond my control. I didn't know how to move on from my past or how to admit I'm a flawed human who sometimes needs more than she's willing to ask for (if she'll even ask at all). I still suffer from my disorders and I still have to work to manage them. But now, when all starts feeling lost again, I don't ignore the warning signs. I take precautionary measures like seeking support and health care, pouring myself into something that makes me happy, practicing self-care, and most of all, being patient with myself.

Mental health isn't a destination; it's a journey you'll be on for the rest of your life.

One bad day doesn't ruin them all. You will mess up. You will still cry. You will still battle the same emotions that brought you to your knees in the first place. In the three years since I've accepted my reality, I now understand things I couldn't in my “before.” I'm stronger than I give myself credit for, and if you see pieces of yourself in my story, then let me be the first to say that you are, too.

So, hold on, friend. You are seen.

If you are struggling and need help, call the National Alliance on Mental Illness HelpLine at 1-800-950-NAMI (6264), available Monday through Friday, 10 a.m.–6 p.m., ET. If this is an emergency, you can call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-TALK (8255) or text NAMI's Crisis Line at 741-741.

The post What I've learned about caring for my mental health since having a breakdown appeared first on HelloGiggles.