#i've spent my entire life fighting this uphill battle

[exospherethoughts]

I don't know how to feel. My psychiatrist told me I do have OCD, and now I just, don't know how to feel or what to do. I know logically speaking, having the label doesn't change my symptoms or what my daily experiences are, but it still feels so devastating to know there's another separate thing wrong with me. Some of the things I thought were just quirks are compulsions, habits I picked up that I *need* to do to keep my anxiety manageable are things I'm going to have to learn to stop doing, I'm questioning the source of every single thought I have now, I don't know how much of who I am is actually me and how much of it is the OCD (which things are quirks and which ones are compulsions? which thoughts are really mine and which ones are seeds of intrusive thoughts? do I even have any thoughts anymore that aren't obsessive spirals?), I feel the need to tease apart what is OCD and what's ADHD but that in and of itself is a compulsion, I feel like I have to monitor everything that goes through my head to check if it's an obsession/compulsive rumination (is that a compulsion too?), I'm so tired. I want a moment of peace and quiet, just a moment of silence, a break. But nothing makes it go quiet. Drinking helps for a little while but even that just numbs things out a bit, it doesn't make my mind go properly quiet. I wish I could put my head through a bloody wall.

[geek-fashionista]

Went to the doctor and got anxiety medication. After a summer of steadily worsening brain activity, I looked forward to the relief. My life back to normal!

Took half a pill the first day as instructed. Spent the entire day zoned out, half asleep, dizzy, and detached.

Took half a pill the next day. Was fine until I had a massive panic attack in the afternoon and could not stop dissociating for the rest of the day.

I have not taken any since.

Because from the moment I stared down that first dose, something within me said, "This is a mistake."

I'm not saying other people shouldn't take medication. There are many out there who need this more than I do, and I've psych background enough to keep recommending it in those extreme cases.

But this is not my solution. I took a total of one pill and my brain is still recovering two days later.

So what next?

I'm launching a full scale attack against my anxiety. Exercise. Spending my lunch breaks outside. Eating healthier food. Starting every day with Bible reading and prayer. Writing down my anxious thoughts and challenging them with truths, Biblical or otherwise.

I realize I'm fighting an uphill battle here. There are other habits I'm trying to fix at the same time, so it won't be easy, but it'll be worth it.

The fight for my life is over. The fight for my peace has just begun.

[marylandlifecoaching]

Mind Control

You say loss. I say lesson. And that is the difference in our days. Attitude is everything. Cultivate the art of flipping the narrative. Mindset... is mind control. You either run your mind, or your mind runs you. On those days where everything goes south, you get to decide if you're going there as well. You can give in, give up or simply change the narrative. Master the latter. 

You know that saying "Everyone is fighting an uphill battle." Yeah, it's pretty much bullshit. Yes there are plenty of people who are struggling. But not everyone. We all have stuff. Others are carrying around pain that is so enormous, many of us would fold. The problem is, everyone is comparing their pain to others. That's a losing scenario from the jump. And please stop trauma bonding. Having spent my entire life in mental health, I can honesty say that I have met very few professionals who would endorse trauma bonding. It's counterproductive. 

Trauma is a powerful force. It can be therapeutic and transformational. But wearing your trauma like a badge of honor is plain unhealthy. Yes, sit with it. But overrun your mind with positive and supportive thoughts. Mind your mind. What sounds better? Breast Cancer Victim, or Breast Cancer survivor? See what I am getting at here? Be so busy being positive that that negative no longer factors in. 

Some people master the art. Others will become a disaster because of it. The difference? Mindset. Mindset may not keep you alive. But it sure will help you feel alive. I've known people living with a disease, only to have died long ago. Sure, their body is functioning. But in their mind they're already dead. No joy, no beauty and no gratitude. Kind of fucked up, huh? 

Commit today, to be alive today. A beating heart and air in your lungs makes you alive. But that ain't living. That's life support. Dare to be different. See the lesson and not the loss. If you can do that, I promise you'll have more life in 20 years, than someone who spent their entire life holding onto pain. Bad things happen... to us all. But some of us don't give a fuck. We're too busy looking for the next miracle. Come join us.

[cockroachmotherfucker10]

hi, idk if this is okay but here goes... this blog's really helped me a lot in recovery from AN. i've been doing well lately. since diagnosis, i've been on my own with this bc the mental health system in my country is broken. i guess my question is, do you have any tips for continuing recovery during grief? a really close friend has just passed and i can't get myself to stomach even a bite. i just don't know what to do, i'm lost. thanks in advance, it's okay if you don't reply to this, really.

Hey! I am so glad this blog could help you, it’s truly an honor! Also I live in America, my healthcare system also sucks ass. Recently had symptoms of kidney infection- couldn’t go to an in person doctor because the only place that took my insurance was closed in my city and they wouldn’t set me an appointment in person, though I tried to get one. Basically just had to tough it out- it sucked. Basically trying to validate you- having shitty healthcare is basically the worst.

As for grief, I am really sorry to hear that your friend passed away. It’s an absolutely horrible thing to go through, for every good memory you had with them you have to remember time and time again that they aren’t here anymore, and that’s a feeling that takes a really long time to become more okay with. Not that it’s the same thing, as everyone’s relationship with grief is different, but I lost a close grandmother on January 30th, 2020. I mourn her everyday, and it’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever gone through in my entire life. Still is. I miss her every day, and think about her all the time.

So some words on grief.

1. Cheesy, but it does get better with time.

I read an allegory for grief, and I have found it to be true. Grief is like a big ball inside of a tiny box (which represents you). Every time the ball touches the side of the box- it hurts really bad. You cry, you stare at the wall for hours, you lose your appetite, a lot of things. At first- your ball of grief is huge- and it’s constantly and randomly hitting the sides of the box. For me- the time around my grandmother’s death and funeral, I was completely out of commission. I couldn’t stop crying, and when I did I couldn’t focus on anything. I was completely incompacitated for weeks. But then- over time, the ball of grief gets smaller and smaller, and touches the side of the box less and less. Now, I can think about her without bursting into tears, I look back on my time with her with a sense of nostalgia rather than sharp pain most of the time. Now while my ball of grief is smaller- sometimes it still randomly touches the sides of my box, and I break down crying (hell- I am tearing up now lol). That’s okay. It’s all apart of the process. The grief never fully goes away- but it becomes less and less consuming. This does not mean you love your loved one any less, it just means your body gets better at metabolizing their absence so it hurts less. Also not you can’t force the ball to get smaller before it’s ready to (believe me- I tried). Just let it happen.

2. Express your emotions healthily

Want to know what not to do? Keep your emotions locked into your chest. Especially if you have an ED, it’s important to let yourself cry as hard and as often as you need to. What you don’t get out now will bite you in the ass later. It’s so, so painful. I have never cried so hard in my entire life than I did at my grandmother’s funeral, I couldn’t even get a word of apology out. It felt awful, and vulnerable, and it wasn’t pleasant at all. Crying is not fun, but it was necessary. Afterwards, I felt soooo much better. This is because crying chemically is like letting the extra air out of a balloon about to pop. There is no shame in it. Do it, and do it often. As often as you need, don’t hold it in. Let the pain come, and then when it is ready it will pass. Remember what you don’t process now you most certainly will be forced to process later in the form of chronic pain, worse depression, worse ED symptoms, and worse health. Let it out.

3. There is no wrong way to grieve

So I just spent all that time talking about crying- but it’s also possible that your grief will express itself in other ways, such as feeling numb, or even feeling fine. The key thing is to not judge how your body metabolizes this. Let it do what it needs to do, and do not judge it. To it body will do what it needs to do, fighting it is a pointless uphill battle. Accept it with self compassion, console yourself like a friend would. Tell yourself it’s okay to feel numb, or to cry, or to be okay, etc. let it happen.

4. Reach out for support

Be it from a friend, a family member, or a therapist (or best- all three!) if you feel like it would help you, reach out and talk about how you are feeling, or do something distracting. Mod Lia and I called the night I saw my grandmother for the last time, and we didn’t talk about it much at all. We watched She-ra. That helped a lot. Later I called another friend and talked about how I was feeling. Later I talked about it with Mod Lia, too. And of course my therapist- who helped me process it in a healthy way. On that note, especially with an Ed, if you can, get a therapist. Do it. Better than anybody they will be able to help you find the healthiest way to grieve, and help provide tips and accountability for preventing the worsening of an ED.

5. Tips on not drop kicking your ED behaviors further into hell

Having a schedule for eating (and other necessary activities) really helped me. At certain times, regardless of wether or not I was hungry, I forced myself to eat just because it was food time. Doing this prevents you from slipping into ED behaviors, especially when it is easy to do. Having a therapist or a willing friend to hold you accountable can also help. Express your emotions healthily. Talk to your loved one still, on walks or however. Talk about them in conversation. Do things that remind you of them. Make a memorial for them- whatever that means to you. Allow them to still occupy space in your life, if that feels right. If not, that’s fine. Taking care of yourself is hard, but if you don’t you are going to make it worse for yourself. It’s like puting an ankleweight in when you are already drowning. Take intentional steps (such as setting reminders and alarms) to ensure you take care of yourself, and even see if there are people who would do it with you. Like if you are having a hard time eating, see if a friend will have lunch with you every day at a certain time, or a couple different people (over the phone if need be). Plans, for me, really help me keep it together.

To sum it up, the biggest thing is to not fight the grieving process, set specific schedules for different aspects of self care (with alarms), reach out when you need help, and be patient because it takes time.

There is nothing I can say to make your loss feel better, but it is so hard to lose someone, and I’m sorry you have to go through that. Be patient, don’t expect a ton of productivity out of yourself, and just wait out these unpleasant storms. Thing are never going to feel the same ever again, but eventually you will get used to a new normal, and that doesn’t mean you are doing them an injustice. Keep remembering them, and be patient with yourself.

Best of wishes,

Mod Cass

[heartfullofpony]

Swarm of the Century

I just re-watched Swarm of the Century. For those who don't remember, in this episode, adorable little creatures called parasprites are introduced as pets to various members of the main cast. Everypony goes goo-goo for these cuties...except for Pinkie Pie. She's the one who knows what they're called. She's the one who leaps immediately to action.

Pinkie spends the rest of the episode frantically looking for musical instruments while everypony else ignores her. When the parasprite problem predictably spirals out of control, the rest of the cast even goes so far as to criticize Pinkie for not helping. The twist, of course, is that Pinkie Pie had been enacting a plan all along.

In the end, Pinkie shows up as a one-pony- band, and pied-pipers the parasprites out of town.

Before I go into my personal take on the content, I just want to point out a few landmark "firsts" that happened in "Swarm of the Century."

-First time Ponyville gets trashed.

-First time the show lifts a trope from myths/folklore.

-First time the name of a new location in Equestria is dropped. (Fillydelphia).

-First time we really get a glimpse of what it's like to be Pinkie Pie. (And that's what I really want to talk about).

On a personal level, I really feel Pinkie Pie's frustration at not being taken seriously. Pinkie Pie episodes always have tremendous heart because they bring a bit of the unexpected. Throughout the series, other characters in the ensemble get pretty good exploration in episodes that are not their own. Pinkie on the other hoof, lives to make others smile, and is constantly putting on a happy face for the world. So to an outsider, she quite often comes off as a joke machine.

However, Pinkie Pie has an extremely rich inner life, and strong reasons for the things she does. This is explored and developed constantly throughout the series, but only in episodes that are specifically about her. I've written whole other essays about this phenomenon, and on what makes Pinkie Pie tick. But for now I'm just going to focus on the problem at hand in Swarm of the Century.

This episode was foundational because it recognized that Pinkie was different from everyone else around her, and posed a serious question: what challenges do those differences present?

Throughout this episode, she does not effectively communicate her intentions, and her friends conversely make no effort to listen to her. It's a perpetual motion machine. Some folks fault Pinkie entirely for her communication skills, but I think the problem runs deeper than that. Pinkie Pie has probably spent much of her life being dismissed as "random," and frankly, she has gotten used to it. Most of the time, it doesn't matter.

Here, she has advanced knowledge of a highly potent threat, and nopony understands, or even tries to listen. I think episode gives a lot of "silly kids" something to relate to. Even the most serious of children get unjustly dismissed by their parents sometimes, but kids who are on the zanier side tend to be underestimated by everyone around them when it comes to serious matters. As a goofball adult, I've spend decades acquiring certain tools for navigating situations like this, but I have to tell you, the struggle to get there was extremely real.

Pony sometimes uses exaggerated situations to make a point, and that's okay. In fact, it's better than okay. The beauty of My Little Pony is its ability to tell deeply symbolic morality tales.

As for the lesson itself, it actually is applicable on multiple levels. What you see of somebody's behavior is only the tip of the iceberg. You don't know what is motivating it. We should all take time to stop and listen sometimes - try to understand others around us, even when their behavior seems senseless.

In an article entitled Laziness Doesn't Exist (But Unseen Barriers Do), psychology professor Devon Price writes about this very issue. In a society obsessed with productivity, we, all too often, judge those who are unproductive as "lazy," but there is so much more to a person than that. A person is more than their workflow, and more importantly, what, to the outside world, looks like "laziness," is actually a person fighting uphill battles.

Now obviously, I'm not saying that everyone should get a free pass, but we should all strive to be understanding, and help those around us overcome those barriers when we are empowered to do so. Especially our friends.

-Sprocket

Please support me on Patreon. That is, if you want to. No pressure of course, but I ask because I do have mouths to feed. You can also follow Heart Full of Pony on FimFic

[quitepossiblyknot]

Kill "me" now.

Hard of hearing. Ear infections. Macular degeneration. Near-sighted. Nearer to blindness. Straining to see. Concussions untreated. Seething. Repeated. Number seven. Not even the beginning. Seriously. Brain injury. Brain damaged. Famished. malnourished. Encouraged to play role? To that I say no. Disabled. No fable. Won't be treated as animal, chained, no way. Unstable. What do I offer? I've made tables and unable to sit, took it laying down, personalities, multiple, sclerosis, no doses for this pain, this staying, believed I was hated by every deity, why me, in these moments knowing I'm not alone is not a tone I'd prefer to certain separation, degrees, the ease in being pulled to cure, ensured myself a fighting chance, in spite of chance, at risk, close to death, no notices, no hospital, no insurance, no support in this, never asked for a cent, spent majority of existence in survival mode, spirals, throws, fits, misfit, unhinged, intense, introverted, disturbed, unheard, a word. Divergent. Atypical. Analytical. In critical condition. Long-living. Bed ridden. When in it, positioned to stand, for extended periods, knees and ankles reprimand me, shout, gout, how long of an uphill battle. Hypertension. High blood pressure. What measure of forever? I've been fighting for my space since five, since time existed, it's why I keep people at a distance, the friction, the resistance, the conflict, what I'm stricken with, affliction. Predisposition. I don't have the hands. I hand you off to another. No one is under any obligation to take care of me. Lonely. Pocket full of posies, only thing I can pull are flowers, they're down to earth, lower and over my head, micro to macro, sacral magnetism. A vision for me? To be on my own island. Stranded. Somewhere no one can find me on an atlas. Deaf, dumb, and blind, by design. Redesigning what I can define, reminding myself of the inverse, to disperse generational curses, inward, reverse, revert to original, if it takes me all my life, I can say I did it right, bad, all by myself. Why helping hands hurt? They feel they deserve to your entire life, hold it over your head like lightbulb, put you in debt, tied by contract, never given a thing without consequence, indentured servitude. Confidence? This is not it. Dotted... - by afroknotical for inkingechoes(ko-fi) ©2019

When people only come to you with their troubles, their burdens, their sadness, their anger, their fair share of problems, when you're treated like a revolving door, it takes more to be the bigger person. No longer serving ego. Validity and vanity share too much in common and coughing up blood is enough to shut down. Closed. We reach a limit in what we expose ourselves to. Being helpful to any and everyone can hurt you, especially when people only come bearing bad news and negativity consistently, it leaves residuals, it drains, it pains those who only want nothing more than for the source of someone else's suffering to be gone. Only thing is, some don't want it to leave, and they only come to you to leave more waste, and that toxicity builds, you become a landfill, and when the dam spills, you feel disgusted. You become congested, infected, and no one deserves to be disrespected in such a manner. There are leeches and vampires, and they'll bleed you dry. Succubi and incubi, know them by their actions, they speak louder, shrouded in mystery and charm, they'll do you harm on subtle levels. Never be manipulated by your compassion. Know your bounds. Ground yourself, to the root. Always get to the root to uproot weeds and leave miscreants at the door, no more revolving, you're out of orbit. Regeneration takes isolation. Isolate the sources of soreness, no more absorbing. No more forcing. Most aren't a good fit where you're growing, towards the light, you're responsible for who you keep in your circle. Hold yourself accountable, those are the tightest hugs no one will ever tell you about. Shout, "I'm worthy." Purge these parasites. Papaya is good for the soul. Fruit salads are growth. Go treat yourself kindly. Remind each cell in your body of what it means to cuddle, come closer to doing what's right for you. You ran yourself dry for others. Water yourself, stay rooted. Make room for lovers, such as yourself.

[vivavinni]

March 17th, 2018 KC - Mental Me.

Today I don't have anything inspirational to say. I am not in love. I am not politically charged (though I should be.) I'm not even sure I can successfully organize what's been going through my mind, but I need to give it a try.

I saw and shared this post on Facebook today:

This post is so closely relatable. I was the kid who survived multiple suicide attempts; I vacationed in multiple hospitals. I am now the adult who feels ill equipped, unprepared and lost.

My dad died when he was 26 years old, I was 6. Growing up, for me, was much different than most of my friends. My mother was a single parent my entire life. We were always moving, paycheck to paycheck. She did everything she could to keep a roof over my head and keep me alive. We are lucky enough to have a supportive foundation. Our family is a good size, very loving and strong. (This is something I never let go of.)

During years 6-10 I dealt with a good amount of anger and sadness. A great deal of my young childhood is a blur, however, I know for certain I was difficult. I remember I needed certain things to go certain ways to feel mostly comfortable in my skin. (Example- my socks had to be folded over perfectly and fit inside my shoes just right, before I left for school. If they were crooked or slightly uneven I would have a meltdown.) I was and always will be chubby. Even then, I had a lot of small and large insecurities that worried me constantly.

Anxiety, what a friend. He sits right next to Depression, she's always crying about something and obsessing over death.

After years spent fighting my mom about going to counseling meetings and follow ups for learning how to grieve after your best friend and father dies, we thought, "maybe the worst is over..." That was not the case.

A few years passed, maybe age 10-12, and I refused to continue counseling because I didn't understand why I had to do it when none, or most of my friends didn't. I didn't want to be so different, but I was and always will be (and that's okay now). Life seemed relatively normal, I had to adjust to having a new baby sister (which was difficult at first, life moves on). I established a few good friendships and mostly excelled in school. Family gatherings were always a highlight. I was fortunate enough to go on a few very cool vacations to new places which is great fun!

Now, at this point it seems light, happy and chipper, however, I grew up with an obsession with death and all things strange and dark. Keep this in mind. I was weird but hey, I made a couple weird friends so it wasn't too terrible. My favorite shows at this time were CSI: Las Vegas and Buffy, the Vampire Slayer. I also loved gory horror films, thrillers and weird anime. Neat!

Let's fast forward to year 2005, September (already a stressful and emotional month after 9/11/01, my uncle Marc lived only ten blocks away when that occurred but survived well and helped with clean up,) I was a month away from age 14, I believe, I was emotional. I was becoming; I was confused, awkward, angsty, dramatic and a little crazy. Found my way to cope with my friends Anxiety, Depression and new friend Hypermania by way of experimenting with different forms of self harm. You guessed it, I was a cutter and I dabbled in an assortment of substances.

I digress, it's September in 2005, my baby cousin is turning 3 years old, he's gonna have a party! I had the option of staying the night with family or staying with a friend, I chose my friends. The night before my baby cousins birthday party, my uncle Steve (baby cousins father and also my father figure), went to have a beer with someone he thought to be his good friend in need. He, tragically, was wrong. This man shot my uncle twice in the back, as well as committing other atrocious acts before attempting to flea the state.

This event spiked a long downward spiral which eventually led to an uphill battle and this very moment.

I was devastated. My whole family outraged, distraught, grieving, but together. Mental me, lost sight of 'together'. I was lost. I felt alone, hopeless, a nervous wreck, and guilty for choosing to stay with friends instead of family. This turned into depression and suicidal ideation, attempt. I was done, loss of purpose, "what's the point?" Extinction.

My first full hospitalization came after months of self-destruction. It was a very unpleasant experience for me. I was admitted to Research Hospital in their youth psychiatric care unit. They cut my favorite shoelaces off my favorite pair of shoes, striped me down to nothing, heavily medicated me, and told me not to worry. Most of my experience is veiled and distorted by medicine haze. However, I distinctly remember the nurse who was in charge of pm phone calls to home tell me, "I've seen a lot of kids like you, you'll be back again," or something to that effect. After my interaction with her all I remember was turning autopilot on to get myself out of that hospital as quickly and smoothly as possible. I said I felt better, "The meds must be working, I'm working on my steps to release, I'm ready to go home." I lied. I lied my face off. I wasn't ready, the meds weren't right; fake it til you make it out, right?

I stayed in out-patient for a little while with different doctors, different medicines. Faking it to make it. I eventually stopped going and stopped medication. I went through counseling on and off. And continued to self-harm and experiment with different substances. School, to me, was pointless. I stopped showing up, I skipped, got into trouble and eventually made the decision to drop out. For me, school was useless anxiety on top of my generalized anxiety, depression and hypermanic episodes. I was trouble, I was troubled. (Mom, I am so sorry for putting you through so much on top of everything we went through together.)

My mom and I had always had a rocky relationship. It was difficult to relate and be open with her. I'm not entirely sure why it took me so long to figure out she was always on my side and wanted what was best for me. I have some ideas why, but at this point in time they aren't pertinent because now I do have a very strong bond and great deal of respect for her. She loves me unconditionally, as I do her. Through ups and downs and hospital visits we became best friends. I am so grateful for it.

Since the loss of my uncle, I began the journey of my diagnosis and treatment but, not before finding out that my father died of a genetic heart condition called A.R.V.D. My grandma was diagnosed with it as well and has been treated and monitored. I decide, with my mom, that testing for this heart condition was important. In and out of hospitals I went! I was put under multiple stress tests in different variations (one of them I was put under anesthesia for.) Eventually, a temporary heart monitor was placed in my chest for further testing and then I lost insurance.

Here I am! Mental me, years later, without insurance and a dead heart monitor in my chest that should probably be removed soon.

Years have passed. I was hospitalized again after several years of self-harm, destruction, medicine and indulgence. Somehow, I met a few good friends and partners along the way that stayed by my side and helped me after this much brighter stint in the KU Med psychiatric ward.

My KU experience was much more helpful. I took it seriously and learned a great deal about myself, my issues, coping techniques; I learned and accepted that sometimes, hospital visits are necessary and beneficial to mental health and well-being. I knew after that visit that when I am at the point of severe or suicidal ideation there is a safe place to regroup, learn and get better.

Friends, it has taken years and years on this journey to get to this exact moment- Where I am the adult who may be a bit behind because I never planned to make it this far. Here I am! Mental me!

I have been off medications and out of hospitals for nearly four years. I've been through therapy and could always use more of it. It can be helpful. Reach out! Seek the help. Sometimes it will be easier than others to take that step, I know, but keep reaching. Find health coping that works for you. We are not alone even in our most isolated darkness.

When I started writing this I said I didn't have anything inspirational to say because this is all just a piece of my story. I think it's time for me to start sharing it. This is not finished because my story isn't over. And it's true, I never thought I would make it this far, but here I am, MENTAL ME! Let's keep going.

The darkness is temporary, the struggle is constant and the fight is forever. Please, keep fighting, help me fight.

With all my love,

-V

#stayherewithme #stayherewithus #suicideawareness #believeinstayinggold #artsaves #evenifitkillsme #keepreaching #seekhelp #TWLOHA #love #life #selfcare #selflove #beyou #getweird