*TRIGGER WARNING*

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Navigating a world that often feels cold, insensitive, and unaccepting of mental illness is lifelong work, a healing journey with ups and downs that has no end. As a highly sensitive person who has lived with anxiety/depression/OCD/ADHD since childhood, struggled with self-harm, substance abuse, and eating disorders, and is a rape and domestic abuse survivor, I have sought out many forms of therapy over my lifetime, both traditional and alternative.

One concept that I became familiar with in Dialectal Behavioral Therapy (DBT) is having a toolbox. Every individual’s toolbox looks different and will evolve over time. It is essentially a list of our skills and techniques for emotional regulation, distress tolerance, mindfulness, and interpersonal effectiveness. I would like to share some of my go-to tools for self-soothing and traversing times of heightened anxiety/the unknown: 

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By: Kaleigh Peery

What does recovery mean? Well the dictionary says it’s a return to a normal state of health, mind, or strength and/or the action or process of regaining possession or control of something stolen or lost.

When it comes to mental illness, “recovery“ to me means to be able to not run from the chaos of  your own mind but to embrace and accept it. There are some who of us who are not just addicts to drugs and alcohol but addicted to the worse thing of all: their own minds. Nothing compares to a battle with your own mind. For as long as I can remember, I did everything I could to hide the inner battle stirring around inside me. Yet, through all years of madness I could never justify labeling myself as an addict even though I did spend years self-medicating and trying to numb the chaos in my mind.

December of 2015, I finally broke down and realized I needed some serious help.  Every part of me was shattering into a million pieces like broken glass and I was feeling as if any one who could help me pick up the pieces would be afraid to get cut on shards of glass that were chaotically placed around me. I sunk deeper into my addiction to my mind. The anxiety I had was unbearable. I was fearful of any emotional connections. I honestly was at the point where all I wanted to do was completely just give up. The burden of illness felt too much to bear. I thought I was never going to be able to function appropriately in society. My self-loathing got worse and worse and of course then follows the guilt and isolation. No one could understand how I could be this way. To good family, good friends, from the outside looking in, I should be happy as can be, right? Everyone loves me, just be happy.

Well, I wasn’t.  I was overly exhausted from faking it my whole life.  I had coped with my invisible illness alone for so long I created a world of puking out the pain or grinding my teeth until my jaw would lock up. I was sick and tired of trying to find pills, just so I could go outside and spend time with family and friends and not dread every moment of it or fear that I would have a panic attack, sick and tired of looking for ADD meds so I could just function to clean and maybe not lose everything I touch (which was ongoing problem that messed with my life way more than it should). The hustle of it all only contributed to even more to triggering my PTSD or my generalized anxiety disorder. For me the saddest part is no one even knew what was going on with me because I took pride in my resilience and always just kept keeping on, convincing myself that this darkness will fade if just can focus on the light. It is what I had always done after all. I had always made it out of the chaos in my head alone so this time shouldn’t be any different. Hiding my illness for so long, I became the master at faking a smile and crying in the shower.

This time though, I was spiraling down deep into the abyss of the darkness part of my illness and with a little help from a narcissistic man who enjoyed playing with my already fragile mind, I lost it. I let him manipulate me into thinking that I would feel better if I just let him put a needle full of drugs into my body, knowing I am terrified of needles. He insisted and the darkness in me submitted regretfully. After that night of drug use, I realized I had hit rock bottom. It was time to put my ego aside and tell me my family I was not doing well.

After the shock of telling my family, I checked myself into a crisis unit. For the first time in my life, I did what was needed to be done for my own mental health and left everyone’s opinions at the door. I needed help. I needed control over the increasing amount of panic attacks a day, along with the self-medication because if I didn’t I would most likely end up dead. I was losing the ability to even care about life because I wasn’t living a life worth living.

After spending 18 days with some amazing staff and doctors, I could feel happiness and hope again.

I wrote this about four months after I left crisis unit. At that point I was just happy to be able to go the grocery store, socialize and enjoy the little things again. I was not only functioning though. I thought I was excelling. I felt and—still feel—extremely blessed. For the first time in forever I began to write, paint and had even got myself a role and once again could be under the bright lights of the theatre stage. While the rest of my time than was spent volunteering with NAMI and trying to openly talk about my illness in the hopes of helping someone else.  

Now, eight months later, talk about full circle. I teach “living successfully with a mental illness” on the crisis unit where I once was resident along with the honor of becoming an In Our Own Voice presenter for NAMI. Also, I am interning to get my crisis recovery specialist certification at the unit. While there, I was blessed with the job opportunity to become a residential specialist before my internship was up.

I can help spread the word and breathe hope back into others who are in the same shoes I was once. It a magical feeling to say the least.  

It was little less than a year ago when I thought my life was over and pointless. Now I’m nothing but excited about the future and what it has in store for me. The possibilities are endless when you finally have hope and confidence in yourself

I learned to own the chaos inside me and because of that, I am now tapping into the great potential and edge my mental health condition has gifted upon me

My goal in life is to remove the stigma and to use my voice so that no one ever feels as alone as I once did.

I feel like an alien, I don’t belong, I don’t want to be here, I’m not made for this earth, nobody understands what it’s like because you just can’t put it into words and even when you can you feel like a burden or like you’re crazy or attention seeking.
You know everything and yet you know nothing, constantly questioning who you are because once you think you know that illness comes tapping at your door and you suddenly feel lost again.
From a troubled past of bullying and being made to feel so small and insignificant, guilt trips, abuse, neglect, abandonment, death, violence, a broken home and self harm..
Nothing has ever felt like home.
Always thinking about giving up, never being good enough, wanting to fit in and be loved but at the same time all you want it to be left alone and not hurt anyone.
Being completely fine one day then losing control the next.
Locking yourself away and shutting everyone out and then when you’re finally alone you get hit with depression and crave someone to pull you out.
Problems with your self image and having to grow up too quick.
Abusive or unstable relationships where they react in a way which triggers the things you try so hard to keep hidden away.
Begging and crying to friends, family, hospitals, councillors and doctors to please just fix me I can’t take any more of this.

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So many, so many people out there living in fear and shame because of their own mental illness. They will never speak up because society told them to SHUT UP. Society doesn’t care about our feelings. I was one of those people that lived in fear. 

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Hello, I have always thought that sharing my story with the mental health community is important to bring hope to others that are just like me.

I’m a 37 year old divorced mother of two boys. I have been in therapy of some kind or another since I was 7 years old. Mental illness runs in my family as well as substance abuse addiction. I believe I was born with my many disorders that progressed and worsened as I got older, abused illegal drugs, prescribed medication and had my children. In my early childhood I showed all the many signs of OCD. I also grew up in an extremely chaotic family where my mother suffered terribly with her own mental illness that was never acknowledged or treated and an emotionally absent father. My two older siblings coped with this by using and abusing drugs and my older sister was put into rehab when I was seven. My older brother simply moved away and is still an addict today covering up his own mental health issues. My younger sister was extremely emotionally disturbed and would act out violently towards my parents but especially towards me. She would later become a drug addict for many years and thankfully entered recovery 4 ½ years ago.

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One in five adults live with mental illness

You’ve spent your childhood watching your mother or father struggle with anxiety, depression or obsessive-compulsive disorder. You can’t remember if you put the cuts on your arms or if it was something they did. Everything may be going smoothly and suddenly, you find yourself furious, panicky or tearful and you don’t know why. They never noticed the cuts. Your life is often filled with anxiety, uncertainty, and vigilance. You don’t let your father see you cry when his anger breaks your jewelry box; the gift you cherished that he gave you only two months ago. You were plagued by loneliness, vulnerability, and helplessness. You felt unwanted, abandoned, and lost. 

I was convinced no one would believe me, so I hid my chaotic home life from everyone. I was the family mediator, calming down a frightened father and comforting a sad, lonely mother. I convinced myself I was defective or different from other kids. When I was in school, instead of paying attention to my teachers, I’d spend all day worrying about how my mom was doing.

I lived in a permanent state of hyper-vigilance, constantly attuned to my father’s erratic moods and my mother’s helplessness. I chose to stay close to my emotionally unavailable, controlling partners and swallowed my needs to gain their approval. I wish I was beaten. I’d feel more legitimate. Who cares about me? Doesn’t anyone notice? I felt angry. I felt scared. The problem is no one can see my scars. I feel like if I told someone I was verbally abused, they’d think I was just complaining about being yelled at. If I’d been a better daughter my mother wouldn’t have been so sick. If I’d been a better son my mother wouldn’t have been so sick. All I knew was my grandparents were telling me that mum’s sick and dad was telling me that mum’s sick and I was confused, because she didn’t look sick to me.

I need positive feedback

Trauma and betrayal.

Staying out of the way, and staying safe.

Growing myself up.

I found myself in a paralyzing depression. I was suffering from complex posttraumatic stress disorder. There’s nobody in this world who loves me … I don’t have a mother’s love or a father’s love, or, family love… so it wouldn’t matter if I disappeared off the face of the earth.

My mother stopped sleeping when I went to college. Maybe it was my father’s heart attacks, maybe it was me. She’s been withering since. My familial environment was terrifying, and the chronic nature of this negativity exacerbated the effects of the neglect and abuse I endured. I found myself constantly trying to fix him. When I’m asleep and my roommate burns her grilled cheese at two in the morning my heart races as the smoke detector beeps. It takes everything in me to stop the panic building. The tears escape anyway. Growing up with dad, I never felt secure… and I know that I have always been anxious, my whole life. I feared to pass on the illness to a future generation. I’m scared to have kids. What if I treat them the same way my parents treated me? What if I don’t get well enough to care for them?

These were necessary behaviors when I was young, but they aren’t vital for my survival anymore. You can identify and stop participating in abusive relationship dynamics. Try to engage with people who make you feel safe and respected, who listen well and are emotionally available. I can be my own person. Thank your shame for protecting you and ask it to please step back. Your childhood was not your fault. It was ok to put some distance between me and my mother, even though I loved her. I named, validated and felt the sadness in my body as I gave myself compassion. I took a walk through the park and looked at nature. I felt better. It fostered empathy, compassion, and resilience. You had terrible role modeling from your mother. You had terrible role modeling from your father.

I will not inherit my mother’s pain. I will not inherit my father’s fear. She never showed you that we can learn to control our impulses. So I’m worth saving? I’m not irredeemably bad? I will always have ups and downs and have to manage fears and the damage that will always be there, but now I accept it and work with it. I can thank my parents for everything they have done for me. But I no longer owe them anything. I will grow strong. I will get better. I will be happy. And I will remember:

I cannot heal my parents.

This is a Found Essay, meaning that I pulled lines from different essays on NAMI and incorperated them with my own experience wot create a creative Non- Fiction piece.

Thank you NAMI for being there.  Thank you Phyllis Arends, then the Executive Director for South Dakota for getting myself and my partner, Timothy Flaskamp involved in starting a Connections Recovery Support Group.  Since  almost 5 years ago, Tim and I have become “In Our Own Voice” Presenters and Trainers also.  I had onset at 42, with a Bipolar Disorder, a PTSD, and a Panic Disorder.  All the while, fighting with a back injury. 

After the second surgery, I was told I was terminal.  Yes, the therapist had her work cut out for me, and TIm’s support and understanding was crucial. Oh, and Yes, I am in the best relationship of my life, a gay one with a remarkable man, who himself could be called “Mayo Clinic’s Miracle Man”.  I was overweight, diabetic and the Doctor said a gastric bypass would be the answer as she had to get the weight off me right now. 

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I was diagnosed with BPD when I was in the US Army in 1983. With several hundred therapy visits, 2+ years facilitating for NAMI Multnomah and my own strong determination to get better I was told by my therapist at the time, “You no longer display any of the characteristics of Borderline Personality Disorder”. I was floored!!! But I have not stopped striving to better my life. NAMI Connection has been an integral source of strength and knowledge for me. I am hoping to facilitate again where I now live.

I still have some mental health issues. ADHD and OCD are two of the most present now, but I have PTSD from the abuse I suffered growing up. I still see a therapist and most likely will for most of the remainder of my life. My husband and I are well versed in NAMI Connection. We first began going to a NAMI Connection group in 2013. My first visit was scary for me. I stood at the door to the room and froze. The facilitator, at that time, got up and led me by hand to a chair. I haven’t quit supporting NAMI. Everything I purchase at Amazon.com gives a percentage of my purchase to NAMI Multnomah!!!

Hello my name is Amanda I have had mental illness for multiple years from manic depression, PTSD, and many other things that I am not sure what they are yet am on medications for but they are not really helping that much. I have been to the hospital many times and have lost everything plus everyone that means anything to me that I love or care about since I went to using drugs since I didn’t know how to deal with my mental illness. I hold everything in and it’s very hard for me to open up or deal with things or talk to people face to face or in group settings yet I’m currently trying to get help for that in fact today I’ve been sober for 25 days. I still need a lot of therapy and a lot of support plus need to get into some group yet was just referred to your guys website from a staff member from the treatment center that I’m at right now so I’ve been doing some research and thought that I would reach out and write a little about myself and maybe you guys could reach back out to me and help me along in my recovery.