#I've had this job 3-4 months and it's already taking a toll on my mental health

[nell0-0]

I hate being stared at while people whisper obviously about something related to me. At least try to be subtle, fools. I have to deal with that enough at work where my coworker clocked me as neurodivergent from day 1 and has, thus, made it his mission to push boundaries and mess with me.

See, this is why I prefer staying at home thinking/drawing/writing blorbo related stuff.

[venomous-ragno]

you’re a combat medic! i’m deciding on whether i want to enlist and join as a medic since i used to be a nurse! i’m not from germany but how was the process and training for you as a medic in germany?

Would I recommend anyone enlisting?

No. No, I wouldn't.

I can already hear you, "but venomous! You're a soldier too!" Yes, I am, and that's the exact reason why I can say this.

I've yet to meet even one soldier who wasn't looking forward to their contract ending. Not a single one. And I get it. Attending one funeral too many is a burden like no other. The physical strain this career imposes on you is like no other.

But I'm not here to talk saint. Instead I'd like to offer some tips and viewpoints that should help you make a decision not based on a want, but on information and careful consideration.

1. Us soldiers over here call the military the "best and worst employer in the entire country". Why do we call it that? Cause contrary to other countries, Germany's got a fuckton of laws protecting you as the employee. You won't be abandoned when you become unfit for service and you'll be taken care of even after you leave the military. Does your country offer that, op? Before you enlist you should check on what the military will do for you should you no longer be able to work. Pay attention to how your country treats veterans.

2. Be prepared to give up a lot. I'm not talking nail polish and lipstick, but hobbies and future dreams. Ever wanted a pet? No time to take care of one if you'll be spending six months in Irak. Wanna have a fullfilling relationship? People rarely want to date a soldier, and even if they do, the relationship often breaks apart. Your job will always be your number one priority and nothing can change that.

3. Your loved ones will hurt. They'll be confronted with the possibility of you dying. It's a tough pill to swallow, and some might not accept it at all. They may try to talk you out of it, guilt trip you, say and do anything they hope will get you to change your mind. Seen it happen too many times. Enlisting in the military is a choice that affects them too.

4. The mental and physical toll the military takes on you. There's a reason most soldiers leave due to severe PTSD - it comes with the job. Mental health problems run rampant within the military. Training to become a combat medic especially is one of the hardest careers you can pick. If you're a woman you'll have to meet the same standards your male comrades do. Can't keep up? Well that's too damn bad. Your expertise as a nurse will certainly help you here and there, but field medicine ain't to be taken lightly. There's a lot more involved than one might think; I had to study and memorise different chemical, atomic and biological components, in what dosage they negatively affect the human body, which plants are poisonous and which safe to eat? You won't only be studying medicine, but war related stuff as well. It's a lot and it's tough.

5. Do research on what former soldiers have to say about being in the military. Recruiters will tell you what you want to hear, but not what you need to hear. Pay close attention as to why they left the military.

6. The most important one in my opinion: Do not enlist if your country is at war. You'll be nothing but a pawn whose life will be wasted away in some operation that was only given the green light because emotions are running high. Same goes for terrorist attacks and similar. Enlist in times of peace if you must.

7. Make peace with the fact that if when you do enlist, you may not be allowed to do what you dream of doing. Standards for combat medics are high - medical personnell is rare, partly also bc it makes you the prime target for enemies to shoot at. (Guess why medics aren't allowed to wear the red cross anymore--) If you've got any physical weaknesses you might be unfit to become a medic.

8. If you do end up enlisting, do not fuck around with comrades. Trust me when I tell you that any flings and one night stands will be public knowledge. Worse even, you might gain the reputation of being a "mattress" aka someonw who sleeps around. Serious relationships are less problematic, but personally, I'd avoid those too. Break ups can be nasty.

9. Think about your career goals and what you expect of yourself. You can be totally fine with having a lower rank and not wanting to advance at all, but... People tend to equate rank with worth. In other words: If you're low in rank, expect to be treated like shit because of it. Not saying it's an every day thing, but... It happens often. Talking back will get you nowhere. If anything, people will get the impression you're cheeky. And word carries.

10. Be aware that once you're in, you're in. You need to be someone with a strong moral compass and sense of duty to make it. You need to be competitive but capable of teamwork, you need to be reliable, trustworthy, and so so much more that, should you realise this isn't for you after all, there's no going back.

[undeservedfavor]

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The Bucketlist

Mini-Series of Short Stories

St. Valentines Day [EN]: Chapter 4

Two months has passed as they continued to work together until they finish the movie and gained so much awards and credit.

"Woohoo!!! Guys! Let's party! We all deserve it for all the hard work!" Director said.

"I think you guys need to talk about something. I don't know but while working with the both of you, we all feel sexual tension in the air." The celebrity Catherine said to Gisela when she noticed that Dorian is eyeing her from afar.

"H-he thinks he's so hot that he can get everyone. Though he told me he had indecent proposals in the past, 3 SMS, 4 Calls, 6 DMs, and 2 missed calls... He's not that hot." Gisela told the actress.

"Woah, so updated, are we?" Catherine gave Gisela a knowing look and a knowing smile.

"Can we talk?" After the Dorian's invitation, he and Gisela went to the nearest park.

"Whenever, I see that sand box, I remember Plage Solitaire. The most peaceful beach on the planet." Gisela just nodded to what Dorian said.

"I-im sorry." They both said in unison.

Then, they laughed a bit with embarrassment.

"L-listen-..." They said again in chorus.

"You go first." Dorian said.

"No. You should go first." Gisela said.

"Uhm, here you go... C-can we be together?" Dorian asked Gisela who shed tears immediately with the question.

"You don't understand. You don't wanna be with someone so-called 'Damaged Good'. I don't want you to regret it. You don't wanna be with me. You don't need to due to pity. You don't-..." Gisela's anxiety is overwhelmingly obvious.

"We do not know those things yet. Those are 'What ifs', you're far from a 'Damaged Good'. For me, you're a beautiful 'Work-in-progress' and hell, despite the controversies I had, I'm still in good condition, whatever you're going through, I will go through it with you. Whatever you're thinking, I'll help you overcome it. If there's someone who can try and understand you, that's me. For me, this isn't the time to waste time and fool around, this is not like the roles I play, this is real. You are real. I don't care how hard it is but no matter what, I wanna be a part of something so beautiful... A part of your plans in the future. Please. For old times' sake, let me be with you all the way." Gisela, lost for words nodded crying as Dorian also shed tears.

"Gisela, thank you. I love you..." Dorian whispered to Gisela as he caress the woman's hair, embracing her long and tight enough to make her feel safe.

"Let me drive you home." Dorian told Gisela.

They both started living under one roof at Dorian's condominium unit.

One morning, as they're lying on the bed, Dorian hesitantly asked about Gisela's list...

"Dear Piggy... A-are you still gonna continue with that list?" She showed him the list seeing number '6' crossed out.

"Back in the beach, I haven't really finished the list yet. Now, it's done. I actually skipped on number '6' and went straight to number 7, 8, 9 and 10. 'Cause you're not just any random guy... Technically you're my little Dino, but... You're the one." Dorian checked the list out due to his curiosity.

1. Earn a lot for the future. ✓

2. Quit the medical industry. ✓

3. Spend more time with the only family - Merian. ✓

4. Finish writing my novels and posting it to my writing/social platforms. ✓

5. Buy a house in Plage Solitaire at a chosen paradise to 'live and die' for. ✓

6. Have virginity taken by a random guy and leave him clueless afterwards. *Skip this part.* ✗✗

7. Get a writing job. ✔

8. Take care and fully pay insurance. ✅

9. Have the one closest to my heart, help me choose a casket and designs for the tomb.

Plus, choose a church for the blessing and perfect spot in the graveyard/cemetery.

10. Chose a great necrological service speaker. I want a great Eulogy.

Dorian just looked carefully at Gisela's face and embraced her tightly.

Then, she spoke...

"I know. I'm a weirdo." Gisela told Dorian.

"Piggy... You're kinda like scaring me with these things but if this is the way I can be with you, I'll understand, process and digest every single bit of it. I'm not even gonna ask you why you made this list in the first place but if you're ready to not give up on life, I'm gonna go with you if you decided to get yourself checked." Dorian said.

"I'll tell you when the time comes..." Gisela said.

The couple decided to go shopping.

No ordinary shopping but he's only doing it for Gisela even if he doesn't wanna consider the thought.

"You know what? I think this one will be okay. Ah! I know! Maybe I can also have a reservation my own. Same color as I've chosen for you. So when the time comes... We're still gonna go as a couple. Even if it's the after-life." Dorian joked a bit.

"Don't. Even though, couple shirts, couple rings and other couple stuff might be cute, I don't want you to think about a couple casket. You're a born villain. And villains don't die unless it's passed hundreds of years already. Plus, they don't even age. Time flies for them gracefully like a bloodline of a vampire." Gisela joked him back.

The next stop is to the cemetery.

They're choosing tomb designs.

"This is perfect, 'In loving memories of...-" Gisela was cut of.

"We can choose the designs Piggy but it's good to personalize those messages." Dorian said as he wrote things down on a paper.

You have lived a life full of love.

Soon, we'll meet and love again up above.

To the place where there is never-ending peace.

Love,

Your Dorian

Gisela smiled at Dorian and they went to the cemetery.

Gisela insisted to choose a spot.

"This spot is nice. The one near the tree." She said.

"I would already reserve those two spots next to each other. So that I can lie down with you forever when the time comes..." Dorian said Gisela shed tears and hugged Dorian.

"I don't wanna take you in this journey with me. You're not welcome this early to where I'm heading. Sorry for being so difficult but thank you for having number 9 checked off my list." Gisela said as she embraces her boyfriend.

A day after Dorian's shoot, he went home to Gisela and the house was empty.

Their things are scattered all over the floor.

The entire house was messy.

But...

There are no traces of Gisela everywhere.

She's missing.

"My dearest, why end up dodging the bullet once more? Running away and hiding again on me like that." Dorian whispered.

He searched everywhere for her and in a place he thought Gisela would go to.

"She's not here. She went through a deep trauma after she saw her parents died in the car accident. I know my cousin can be a handful, but please, don't give up on her." Merian said.

Dorian just nodded and headed off.

Dorian did not bring his car along to find Gisela in the hardest and most hidden places in the city.

As he was walking along the subway...

He found a cying woman.

With hands on her head and her hair covering her face.

Her hairs are tangled and all over the place.

Her skin's full of dirt.

When Dorian tried to look at the woman's face, he was shocked.

It was Gisela.

He brought the woman home and cleaned her up.

She fell asleep crying.

As soon as the woman woke up, she said she's gonna use the toilet.

"You sure you can stand?" Dorian asked. The woman just mindlessly nodded.

Dorian thought to check on Gisela when she's taking too long.

He did not lose hope until this sight.

He found Gisela lying unconsciously on the bathroom floor.

"Gisela!!!" He lifted the woman and brought her to the nearest hospital.

Dorian waited for hours for a doctor to come up to him and say that Gisela's okay.

"A-are you with her?" Dorian nodded as the doctor approached him.

"I'm doctor Ariel James Devant, Psychologist." The doctor introduced himself.

"We did not ask for a Psychologist, we need a Physician to have Gisela checked!!!" Dorian almost lost it.

"She's not physically sick. Not until now. We have pulled up a few counselling records of Gisela. In fact, I was her batchmate in Med-school, she quit and did not finish Med-school. So she just continued being a nurse. Because of her parent's car crash, her parents died in front of her in a car accident. She then became my first patient. I have checked on Gisela a few times and she never went back to the clinic afterwards. She's so indenial that something's physically wrong with her and insistent that she's nearing death, that she shuts down people who wanna have her checked by a professional or by any doctor. She has been diagnosed with constant fear of death that it lead to a severe case of anxiety." Doctor James said.

Dorian was not able to process what's happening and could not speak.

"People who has Thanatophobia, would not like to talk about death for it has caused them depression. On her case, it's different. For that's the only thing she wanna focus and talk about out of fear. Like her whole entire world revolves on the thought that she might, oh sorry, that she 'WILL' die. She already decided that for herself. Anxiety took a toll on her that her brain was mentally pausing because of too much stress, overwhelming worry, overthinking and unshown worry, sometimes this can cause nausea and problems with balancing." The same doctor continued talking.

"Maybe this is the reason why she 'slipped' in the bathroom. She lost consciouness in the bathroom because she might have hit her head on the floor. Now, there's internal bleeding, we need to have an operation ASAP to prevent brain mass. You have to prepare because the operation is risky, after that, she may go under a few days, weeks or even months in coma. Worst case is never to wake up." Another doctor spoke.

"My apologies, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is doctor Jessie Ulysis Voltaire. Neurologist and Physicist." He introduced.

After that, they all worked on Gisela's operation.

They spent hours to finish it and what they said was true...

Gisela fell into a coma for weeks now and counting.

Dorian held the woman's hand in his...

He got a Pig and a Dinosaur stuffed-toy that he put on the hospital bed beside her.

"Do you remember this Dear Piggy? You're Dinosaur's here to wake you up. You're my nurse. You shouldn't be lying there for a long time, at that bed. You're supposed to be the one who's taking care of me." Dorian said.

The woman was just unresponsive.

She was still deep asleep.

"You should have told me what you're going through. I should have understand. A-are you punishing me for loving you so much?" He said, sheding tears as he kissed the back of Gisela's hand.

[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.