Learning To Change In Order To Heal

I was 21 years old and living in France. I had just graduated from college and was living near Paris when the symptoms began. I didn’t understand what was happening to me. I had never heard of mental illness; I did not think mental health existed. All I knew was that I couldn’t control what I was feeling.

I couldn’t sleep; yet, I also couldn’t get out of bed. I just wanted to stay in the dark with the covers pulled over my head. I became highly sensitive to light and sound. I thought people who approached me were going to strike me, because I was bad and deserved to be hit. Nothing made sense.

I felt as though I was wearing a lead cloak. The weight of it was crushing, as was the sense of guilt and shame I felt for a failed relationship. Waves of panic would wash over me. I was positive I was being persecuted. This person from my past was going to find me and kill me—I was sure of it. Sometimes I felt as though I was floating above myself, watching myself. I would later learn that this was a severe sign of mental illness called dissociation.

I came back to the U.S. for urgent medical treatment. I was diagnosed with major depression and schizoaffective disorder, a condition characterized by a disconnect from reality which accounted for the paranoid delusions.

The diagnosis of depression caught me by surprise. I never saw it coming because I was completely ignorant about mental illness, as was everyone else in my life. Sure, I had been sad for a long time. I had immigrated to the U.S. at the age of 13. I did not adjust well as I just didn’t know how to make new friends. So I kept to myself, with my nose in the books.

I thought I would go through my entire life like that, feeling lonely and disconnected. For me, this was normal. It never occurred to me to ask for help because I didn’t think I had a problem. I just bottled up my emotions. But after eight years, it all came out in a dramatic implosion while I was in France.

My psychiatrist put me on an antipsychotic and an antidepressant, which worked to relieve my physical symptoms. But the emotional wounds took years to heal.

I went to therapy twice a week. I had a lot to say to my therapist and psychiatrist—things I never thought I could tell anyone else, because I didn’t think there was anyone I could count on. I trusted no one even though I had a support system and a caring family. I didn’t notice my support system, which is a big distinction. I still felt all alone.

Therapy saved my life. My therapist told me that many of the belief systems I had grown up with and internalized were not correct and were, in fact, hurting me. I had to be willing to accept that I may be wrong. I had to change.

For therapy to work, you have to be open to change. You have to accept that your way of thinking may be wrong and that your beliefs may be what is making you sick. You have to change your ways to make healthier choices if you are going to get better. I am proud to say that I changed.

In addition to therapy, I also needed (and still need) to take medication every day (and for the rest of my life). I will always have a chemical imbalance in my brain, and I am grateful for the medicines that exist to correct it. At first, I struggled with this dependency. I didn’t want to be dependent on medications. I didn’t want to depend on anything. But my blind psychologist taught me about dependency.

“Listen,” she told me. “There is nothing wrong with dependency. I cannot even pick out my own clothes or drive myself to work.” She had an assistant who did that. “I have this dog to lead my around.” She had a Seeing Eye Dog.

“I must depend on this dog and my driver to get me to work. Without them, I wouldn’t be able to do much. I depend on them and that is not a bad thing.” I started to see how by accepting her dependencies, my doctor was able to not only work, but be a very effective therapist. And her acceptance of her dependencies helped me accept mine.

I never again want to feel the way I felt in the throes of my depression, so I take my medication religiously and attend to my emotional health diligently. I do the work to take care of myself. But I don’t otherwise think about my mental illness, or, until recently, talk about it.

Even though I have been living with my mental health condition for 20 years, I only recently learned about NAMI and their resources when doing some online research. I signed on to be trained for their presentation programs and have become a speaker in the NAMI Ending the Silence and NAMI In Our Own Voice educational programs.

The more I talk about my mental health conditions, the less I fear other people’s judgement and the more I realize the power my example may offer to others. I feel I am making a meaningful impact. The more visible examples of people living well with mental health conditions, the less the associated stigma will be and the more people will be willing to get help early.

I don’t know if I am unique, but I don’t feel limited in any way by my mental health condition. I lead a full life. So, I have moved on to the next phase of my recovery: advocacy. I’d like to be an example of how a diagnosis of mental illness does not have to be devastating. It can be a turning point to a better, self-examined life.

After recovering from a major mental breakdown at the age of 21, Melisma Cox earned two master’s degrees and served as a Fulbright Scholar.

Preventing A Generation From Struggling In Silence

We all know that education is incredibly important for a child’s development. But did you know that the time between toddlerhood and the teenage years (also known as “middle childhood”) is actually the best period for learning? According to anthropologist Benjamin Campbell, the human brain during this time is “organized enough to attempt mastery, yet still fluid, elastic, neuronally gymnastic. “In other words, the brain is developed enough to understand information and absorbent enough to retain it—often for life.

Some parents capitalize on this time by teaching their child a second language, while schools teach the dangers of drugs and alcohol or the benefits of healthy eating and exercise. Kids in middle childhood are fed a great deal of information in the hopes of teaching them life skills and healthy habits while their brains are ripe for learning.

But a critical piece is missing from all this information, something that many parents don’t know how to teach their kids, something that isn’t part of most school’s curricula: mental health.

We cannot forget about mental health. Parents, teachers, all of us should focus on providing youth with the resources and information they need to get help if they are experiencing mental health issues or having thoughts of suicide. To do that, we need resources like NAMI Ending the Silence.

What We Learn Becomes Who We Are

NAMI Ending the Silence (NAMI ETS) is a free, 50-minute presentation/program that helps middle and high school students understand mental illness. The program teaches them common warning signs and when, where and how to get help for themselves or their friends. “We’re just trying to prepare young people so they know that they can talk to somebody about what they are feeling and reach out to a trusted adult for help,” says NAMI ETS Program Manager Jennifer Rothman. “Educating students about what mental health conditions are, what they look like and what kind of symptoms you might see is the key to prevention and early intervention.”

Early intervention is essential to improving long-term outcomes for young people with serious mental illness. Once a student, administrator or family member viewing this presentation learns how to spot the warning signs of psychosis or other severe symptoms, they will know what it is and how to intervene.

The program also helps young people become more understanding and empathetic toward those who struggle with mental illness. During the presentation, they hear the reality of what having a mental health condition is like directly from a young adult with lived experience. By teaching kids to be more empathetic, we are building a generation wherein stigma will lose its power.

Take, for example, an excerpt from a student’s thank-you letter to her class’s NAMI ETS presenters:

“Your presentation had a huge impact on us, and that’s not something that happens often with high schoolers and guest speakers. Personally, I cannot relate, and I am grateful to currently not have any mental illnesses. But my friend has been dealing with depression and it is usually under control, but she goes through periods of time where it gets worse, and she feels like no one is there for her. I’ve tried to do my best to help her, but I had no idea what it was like to feel that way. Thank you for giving me perspective on how horrible these issues can be, and what to do when these situations arise.”

This is why NAMI Ending the Silence should be more accessible and widespread—so millions of teenagers will know how to help themselves and their loved ones now and in the future. NAMI has been expanding this vital program nationwide with the help of Tipper Gore, a former second lady of the U.S., who gifted NAMI $1 million to support this effort.

Proving Why Students Need NAMI ETS

Getting NAMI Ending the Silence into schools can sometimes be a daunting process, which is why in 2015, NAMI started the research needed to apply to the National Registry of Evidence-Based Programs and Practices (NREPP) with the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration. Rothman explains that when programs have a designation as an evidence-based practice (EBP), it “shows that the program has validity and actually works.”

To achieve the goal of gaining EBP status, NAMI conducted studies throughout 2016. In the first study, 10 schools from five different areas of the U.S. participated. Altogether, 932 students took a three-part survey measuring their knowledge and attitudes related to mental illness. Half of the students then viewed NAMI ETS, while the other half did not. The results found that knowledge and attitudes improved for the NAMI ETS group and stayed elevated weeks after the presentation. The non-NAMI ETS group stayed the same.

These results were consistent across different studies, different presenters and different schools, and among the diverse populations within those schools. The studies suggest that NAMI ETS is consistently effective in improving students’ knowledge and attitudes about mental health conditions and in recognizing help-seeking behaviors. With these impressive results, NAMI has completed its application to NREPP and is awaiting a reply in 2018.

Making An Impact

If we fail to teach the younger generations about mental health, they may struggle alone rather than talk to people who can help them. They may feel ashamed for what they experience rather than know it’s not their fault. They may even take their lives.

Suicide is the third-leading cause of death for people aged 10–14 and the second leading cause of death for people aged 15–24. We cannot ignore these facts, so we must better equip students with the tools needed to ask for help.

And rather than have a mental health specialist come in and talk to students post-tragedy—as is often the case in communities around the nation—NAMI ETS aims to prevent these tragedies from happening at all. With NAMI Ending the Silence, we are working to prevent a generation from struggling in silence.

By Laura Greenstein

https://www.nami.org/Blogs/NAMI-Blog/May-2018/Preventing-a-Generation-from-Struggling-in-Silence

Must I Tell My Boss I’m Absent Because of Mental Illness?

I am in treatment (weekly therapy and a drug regimen) for clinical depression and a panic disorder. They are, for the most part, very well managed. However, even the most well managed mental illness has flare-ups, during which I find it difficult to get out of bed, am plagued with suicidal thoughts or am so panicked that I need to take medication to calm my heart rate. When these symptoms are occurring, the idea of being able to work is laughable.

These symptoms are not readily understood by my high-powered industry colleagues and bosses. There is a general feeling that “we all get anxious and sad; we buck up and push through.” Personal days and sick days are discouraged, and there are few light days. Moreover, although my co-workers are vaguely aware that I have a condition that requires weekly therapy, the existence of flare-ups like this carries, I feel, a heavy stigma that I am not “up to” our fast-paced job. This is not the case; I am an extremely productive and dedicated worker, and I love my job. These flare-ups happen less than once a month, and I am fastidious about ensuring that my work is covered appropriately when I am out.

My work is in law, with regular can’t-miss meetings with clients, such that a “taking a sick day” message to a boss will generally be met with: “Can you come in for this meeting/court date or call in to this or that?”; “Have you tried DayQuil?” etc. On days when I am so preoccupied with my depression symptoms that I cannot go in, I cannot meaningfully participate in “just one thing”; indeed, trying to do so often makes it more difficult for me to recover. I have found that the easiest way to avoid these requests is to lie and explain that I am ill with a particularly nasty symptom, such as a high fever, strep throat or food poisoning. This normally halts questioning, as those conditions are deemed “serious enough” to warrant a day off. Given the stigma associated with mental health issues, is it ethical for me to lie about the specifics of my symptoms to my boss, or is this similar to calling in a “sick day” when in fact you’re taking a personal day, an act I would consider unethical? 

Let’s assume that, over all, your firm has reason to agree that you are, as you say, “an extremely productive and dedicated worker.” Your inclination to be more open about your illness is a good one: When more people like you choose to be open about their struggles, understanding will increase, and the stigma you mention will be reduced. And that’s likely to help people in your situation work productively.

The decision you make will depend on how supportive you think your boss will be, what the culture of your workplace is and how much your contributions are valued. You’ll also want to explain the reality of the disorder — that it’s not a matter of “bucking up and pushing through.” Your employers can accommodate your needs only if you inform them properly of your disability. This would both make your life easier and allow them to plan better; one of the many bad consequences of prejudice is that these win-win outcomes aren’t achieved.

But suppose you decide that your firm would penalize you for being honest and that you can get away with inventing physical illnesses to cover your needs. Would the fact that your employers would respond badly to your being honest justify your continued lying? It would: In general, it’s permissible to mislead people who will do you serious and unwarranted wrong if you tell the truth.

Because you work in the law, you’ll know that the Americans With Disabilities Act requires employers (with 15 or more workers) to make “reasonable accommodations” for conditions that are legally considered disabilities. So if candor proved damaging to your conditions of employment, you might have a remedy. Whether an illness, like depression, is disabling depends, according to the law, on whether it “substantially limits one or more major life activities.” Of course, the law says, as you’d expect, that work is a major life activity. And it was amended in 2008 to define disabilities in a way that explicitly includes conditions like yours that are only episodically disabling, so your clinical depression should meet the test. But in the end, it would be for lawyers to advise you on that question.

A final paradox: If you do go on lying to your employers, they will be justified in penalizing you if they find out. They’re unlikely to be impressed by the argument that you were convinced that they would have behaved badly if you had told them. So I would urge you to consider the harder path of telling the truth. After all, if you’re a terrific worker, they ought to know you’re worth a good deal to them.

Kwame Anthony Appiah teaches philosophy at N.Y.U. He is the author of “Cosmopolitanism” and “The Honor Code: How Moral Revolutions Happen.

The Double Standard Of Mental Illness

Mental health conditions are not the only illnesses to suffer from stigma: AIDS, leprosy and obesity are others. However, Princess Diana shook hands and shook the world at the same time. Antibiotics took care of leprosy and obesity receives a lot of attention from the media. But mental health…it still languishes in the shadows.

It receives occasional celebrity glances, but I feel like these campaigns actually move mental health further away from understanding. The answer is not more exposure to mental health, but more education. First Aid, CPR and sexual education can be found in schools, gyms and offices. Yet CBT could be mistaken for a television channel and mindfulness still invokes eye-rolling.

Everyone should be minding their own mental health, but it’s also important to know the signs in others—which is hard to do if you don’t know what you’re looking for.

If a family member walked into your living room, bent over in pain and screaming for help, what would you do? You would help, of course. And generally, you’d know what to do. If you saw blood, you’d try to stop it. If the person was choking, you’d open their airway. You wouldn’t be performing surgery if that was required, but you could call a doctor or drive them to a hospital or go to a pharmacy and get painkillers.

But with mental health, the picture is so different. We don’t do any of the above. We generally ignore the symptoms, often only seeing them in hindsight. Then we say, “Cheer up!” “Things aren’t that bad!” “Look on the bright side!” In the same way that these phrases will not cure a burst appendix, they can’t cure a bout of depression either.

For the most part, but by no means always, a person experiencing mental illness will present as withdrawn, detached or dissociated from reality. But because they’re not screaming in pain or doubled over, we think (misguidedly) that a few feel-good phrases are the best medicine. But the real best way to help when you see these behavioral changes—no matter how subtle they may be—is to recognize that this is the scream you’re looking for. It’s silent, so you must be on high alert, but just like stroke symptoms, the faster you act, the better the outcome is going to be.

 

Sympathy and empathy is always with the person experiencing the mental illness. And rightly so. Mental illness often feels like being at the bottom of a well you cannot climb out of. And like any illness, you feel sick. Some days, you feel sick every minute.

But there is an army of people struggling as well because mental illness is one of the hardest, most frustrating, most guilt-inducing illnesses to care for. Every caregiver berates themselves for the time they lost their temper, their patience or their cool. Not to mention the guilt and the unease that travels with them every time they leave the house or if their phone rings unexpectedly—the permanency of being on edge, the constant companion that is worry.

But most of all, every caregiver carries the same gnawing question: What if they could have caught their loved one’s illness sooner? What if they missed something—a clue, a sign?

Caregivers and individuals are somehow both expected to recognize symptoms, understand them and then get ourselves or our loved ones the right kind of help in an area of medicine where even the professionals seem to struggle to diagnose clearly. But how can we do that if we’re not properly educated first?

 

Michelle Walshe teaches teenagers in a College of Further Education in Dublin. This is a full-time job, inside and outside the classroom. Any spare time she has, she spends reading and writing. Michelle has had a number of articles published in the national media in Ireland. She’d lived in America, Australia, Switzerland, Germany and Morocco but home is where her family is and that is Ireland. Michelle has spent the last year taking care of her mother, who experiences bipolar disorder. Check out her blog at www.thesparklyshell.com.

https://www.nami.org/Blogs/NAMI-Blog/April-2018/The-Double-Standard-of-Mental-Illness

LGBT people are prone to mental illness. It’s a truth we shouldn’t shy away from

almost didn’t write this. It wasn’t from not wanting to. I cradled my head in my hands, desperate to contribute to the reams of social media positivity I had seen surrounding Mental Health Awareness Week.

I almost didn’t – couldn’t – because I was depressed.

There came a certain point in my experience of being LGBT where I accepted that I had to be strong and uncompromising in the face of disapproving glances and withering remarks. I made a pact to throw myself into my community with zeal, no matter how exhausting, and to make full use of the privileges I was afforded in the tolerant metropolis I’d landed in.

And yet, for some reason, I find this an incredibly difficult attitude to transfer over to my struggle with depression. I will share with my co-workers that I am going on a date with a man or going to an LGBT-themed event with an almost belligerent pride, but am overwhelmed with fear in having to admit to those same people that I’m leaving slightly early to see my therapist or that I need to take some time off due to another episode.

Indeed, the word “depression” still has a bite to it, in the way that the word “gay” did when I first dared to say it to someone else in reference to myself. The tone of my voice takes on an odd quality as I approach it in a sentence, to the point where I sound intolerably meek by the time “depression” tumbles out.

The thing is, in many cases, mental illness and being queer go hand in hand. It’s an uncomfortable but important reality that LGBT youth are four times more likely to kill themselves than their heterosexual counterparts. More than half of individuals who identify as transgender experience depression or anxiety. Even among Stonewall’s own staff, people who dedicate themselves to the betterment and improved health of our community, 86% have experienced mental health issues first-hand. It’s a morbid point to make, but it makes perfect sense that we, as a community, struggle disproportionately.

At a recent event I attended, set up to train LGBT role models to visit schools and teach children about homophobia, no one explicitly mentioned their struggles with mental illness. We told one another stories of how we had come to accept ourselves in the face of adversity, talking in riddles about “dark times” or “feeling down” or being a “bit too much of a party animal”. But these problems have other names – depression, anxiety, addiction – that we consistently avoid, despite being in a community in which a large percentage of us will have undergone similar experiences.

And this phenomenon replays itself over and over. Despite there being a common understanding between me and my queer friends that we’ve probably all been vilified in the same way and made to feel a similar flavour of inadequate, we will rarely acknowledge, even within the safe boundaries of friendship, that this has had a lasting impact on our ability to maintain a healthy self-image.

But part of being proud of who we are as LGBT people is being able to be open about the struggles we’ve faced. It’s in naming and wearing the uncomfortable badges of anxiety, depression and addiction that we take the first step towards fully accepting mental illness as an important part of our collective identity. After all, how can we be true role models to the next generation if we refuse to tell the whole story?

And so, this Mental Health Awareness Week, I’m issuing a challenge to my community. If you are LGBT and suffer from a mental illness, be defiant in your acceptance of it in the same way that you would about your sexuality or gender identity. Bring it up, speak it out and feel sure that your voice, however seemingly small or insignificant, is a valid one. After all, we have been, and will always be, a community of fighters – it’s about time we dared to show our battle scars.

By Alexander Leon

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2017/may/12/lgbt-mental-health-sexuality-gender-identity

Suicide prevention text services expand statewide in MN

Life-saving services will reach more people throughout Minnesota

April 2, 2018
Contact:
Media inquiries only
Sarah Berg
Communications
651-431-4901
Minnesotans across the state can now access suicide prevention and mental health crisis texting services 24 hours a day, seven days a week.
As of April 1, 2018, people who text MN to 741741 will be connected with a trained counselor who will help defuse the crisis and connect the texter to local resources. The service helps people contemplating suicide and facing mental health issues.
Minnesota has had text suicide prevention services since 2011, but they have only been available in 54 of 87 counties, plus tribal nations. Crisis Text Line will offer suicide prevention and education efforts in all Minnesota counties and tribal nations, including, for the first time, the Twin Cities metro area.
“It’s important that we reach people where they are at, and text-based services such as Crisis Text Line are one vital way to do that,” said Human Services Assistant Commissioner Claire Wilson. “It’s especially crucial that we reach youth with these services, and we all know that texting has fast become a preferred way of communication.”
Crisis Text Line, a non-profit that has worked nationally since 2013, is the state’s sole provider for this service as of April 1. Crisis Text Line handles 50,000 messages per month — more than 20 million messages since 2013 — from across the country, connecting people to local resources in their communities. For callers who are in the most distress, the average wait time for a response is only 39 seconds.
Crisis counselors at Crisis Text Line undergo a six-week, 30-hour training program. Supervisors are mental health professionals with either master’s degrees or extensive experience in the field of suicide prevention.
The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 also provides 24/7, free and confidential support for people in distress, as well as prevention and crisis resources.
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Mental Health Conditions Are Legitimate Health Conditions

It is widely accepted that if you have a health problem, you would see a medical professional who specializes in that problem’s proper treatment. If you have high cholesterol or are at risk of a heart attack, you see a cardiologist. If you have digestive problems, you see a gastroenterologist. If you have acne or other skin problems, you see a dermatologist.

But if you are faced with a mental health problem, is your first instinct to see a mental health professional?

Society has taught many of us to answer no. At least, this was the case for me when I was away at college. At the time, I attempted to balance academics, extracurricular activities and a part-time job—all while neglecting my own well-being. My solo circus act eventually came to a head one day in my foreign language class. I felt anxiety taking over my body, and I began crying uncontrollably. When my professor walked in, I rushed up to him and felt my throat tightening. Somehow, I managed to speak through my tears.

“I can’t be in class today,” I said between sobs. He nodded and encouraged me to speak with him during his office hours later that day. When we met, everything that had been going on in my mind poured out. I told my professor that my friend wanted to die and had attempted suicide over the weekend. I felt powerless and out of control. I couldn’t think straight. Then, my professor told me something that had honestly not occurred to me until that very moment.

“I am sorry to hear this. I really think you should go to the counseling center on campus. I think they can help you,” he recommended.

It was as if a wave of clarity hit me. Why didn’t I think of that? Why had I been isolating myself in my dorm room, sitting alone in fear? I hadn’t even considered going to the health center, let alone the counseling center. Looking back, I realize that it was because I never considered my mental health to be a health problem. I didn’t realize that my brain was just as important as the rest of the organs in my body.

The Brain And Mental Health

The brain is the most complex organ in our body and we’re constantly learning about how mental health conditions “live,” function and develop inside our brains. Additionally, mental health conditions can be hard to treat, as there is no one-size-fits-all treatment plan. Two individuals with bipolar disorder may respond very differently to the same medication. Mental illnesses are often far more nuanced than physical illnesses—they’re not a perfected science. Perhaps this is why society has a hard time considering mental health conditions “actual” health conditions.

What is indisputable is that mental health conditions are in fact legitimate health conditions, just like physical illnesses. Additionally, half of all mental health conditions begin by age 14, and 75% of mental health conditions develop by age 24. That is why early engagement and support are crucial to improving outcomes and increasing the promise of recovery. Additionally, mental health conditions can be lifelong conditions. However, with the right treatment plan, living well is possible.

Myself? After several years of pretending that I didn’t need help anymore, I decided to seek out a therapist. I’ve since been diagnosed with anxiety and depression. And with the support of loved ones, I go to therapy every week and am getting the treatment I need. I now see the importance of addressing any concerns with my health, especially my mental health, before they become serious.

Isn’t it time we all saw mental health conditions as legitimate health conditions?

 

Ryann Tanap is manager of social media and digital assets at NAMI.

https://www.nami.org/Blogs/NAMI-Blog/March-2018/Mental-Health-Conditions-are-Legitimate-Health-Con

Experiencing A Psychotic Break Doesn’t Mean You’re Broken

Each year, about 100,000 youth and young adults experience psychosis for the first time. They might see or hear things that aren’t there. They may believe things that aren’t true. It’s like “having a nightmare while you’re awake,” describes Elyn Saks, a legal scholar and mental health-policy advocate.

Unfortunately, when someone starts having these frightening experiences, doctors and medical professionals often tell them that their life won’t ever be the same. That they may never get better. That the best-case scenario is a sub-par existence where every goal they have is limited by their mental state.

Saks, for example, was diagnosed with schizophrenia as a young woman after multiple visits to a psychiatric hospital. “My doctors gave me a prognosis of ‘grave.’ That is, at best, I was expected to live in a boarding house and work at menial jobs.”

This narrative is not only exaggerated, but it’s also inaccurate. It’s akin to telling someone who recently went into diabetic shock that their life is pretty much over. Having diabetes does require proper treatment and lifestyle adjustments. It isn’t an easy health condition—nor is any illness—but you can still live a productive life. The same goes for psychosis and the mental health conditions it accompanies.

Understanding Recovery

There are two categories of recovery for mental health conditions that involve psychosis: clinical recovery, which refers to decreasing/eliminating symptoms and the time spent in the hospital, and personal recovery, which is “a unique process rather an end point with key recovery themes including hope, rebuilding self and rebuilding life.” This form of recovery involves personal goals and values that make life fulfilling.

Personal recovery has received more attention in recent research to help combat the myth that you can’t lead a good, fulfilling life with psychosis. Even if a person hasn’t achieved a complete clinical recovery (yet), they can still work towards personal recovery. According to a 2017 study, “We should make efforts to scientifically characterize the conceptual framework of personal recovery, so that users, family members, caregivers, and professionals can understand and contribute to the users’ personal recovery and subjective well-being.”

Clinical recovery takes time. And during that time, life shouldn’t be on hold. While a person is in treatment, they can still work towards theirs goals and do things that make them feel fulfilled. That way, once they leave a treatment program or a hospital visit, they have a foundation to continue building the life they want.

Setting Goals Leads To Better Outcomes

Clinical recovery and personal recovery work together and complement each other. According to NIMH’s research project, Recovery After Initial Schizophrenia Episode, it is essential for people experiencing psychosis to have personal goals that drive their treatment. For example, getting a degree for the career they want or getting involved with a specific cause. Working towards clinical recovery is incredibly hard, and having aspirations for the future helps individuals stay motivated and engaged in their recovery process.

This is why giving someone a “grave prognosis” can be harmful and counter-intuitive: Because people experiencing psychosis have better outcomes when they are focused on achieving future aspirations. That’s hard to do when you’re feeling hopeless about your future.

“Fortunately, I did not actually enact that grave prognosis” states Saks, who refused to accept that the psychosis associated with schizophrenia would define her life. “Instead, I’m a chair professor of law, psychology and psychiatry at the USC Gold School of Law; I have many close friends; and I have a beloved husband.” Saks isn’t an exception to the rule. In fact, many medical experts today believe there is potential for all individuals to recover from psychosis, to some extent.

Experiencing psychosis may feel like a nightmare, but being told your life is over after having your first episode is just as scary. Both personal recovery and clinical recovery are possible—that’s the message we should be spreading to the thousands of young people experiencing episodes of psychosis.

By Laura Greenstein

https://www.nami.org/Blogs/NAMI-Blog/March-2018/Experiencing-a-Psychotic-Break-Doesn-t-Mean-You-re

6 Ways You Can Help A Loved One On Their Healing Journey

Take a moment to consider all the people in your life: your coworkers, friends, family. At any given time, 1 in 5 of these individuals is living with a mental health condition. You may have noticed them struggling, but if you’re not a trained mental health professional, you may not have known how to help.

However, you can help. You can be supportive and encouraging during their mental health journey. Here are a few tips on supporting the mental health of those you love.

1) Educate Yourself

There are hundreds of mental health concerns; your job is not to become an expert in all of them. When you do notice potentially troublesome symptoms, it’s helpful to determine if those signs may indicate a mental illness. Familiarizing yourself with common symptoms can help you understand and convey your worries. You may also benefit from expanding your knowledge by taking a course or joining a support group of individuals who can relate to the hardships you and your loved one may be facing.

2) Remain Calm

Recognizing that a loved one might need help can be daunting, but try to remain calm—impulsively approaching the individual might make you seem insensitive or aggressive. Try to be mindful and patient. Take time to consider your loved one’s symptoms and your relationship before acting. Writing down how you feel and what you want to say may be useful to help you recognize and understand your thoughts and feelings, and help you slow down while connecting to your good intentions.

3) Be Respectful And Patient

Before talking to someone about their mental health, reflect on your intention to promote healing and keep that in mind. Ask how you can help in their recovery process and be cautious not to come off as controlling. While encouraging a person to seek help is okay, it is not appropriate to demand it of them. Let them know that if they ever wish to talk in the future, you’re available.

4) Listen

Give your loved one the gift of having someone who cares about their unique experience. Don’t bypass their narrative by making connections to others’ experiences. You might recognize a connection to your own experience, however, sharing your story prematurely may undermine their experience. You may be prepared with hotlines, books, or a list of community providers, and although these are excellent sources of support, it’s important to take time to thoroughly listen before giving advice. It’s a privilege to have someone share intimate details of their mental health. Be present and listen before moving forward.

5) Provide Support

One of the best ways to help is to simply ask how. It’s not helpful to try to be someone’s therapist, but you can still help. People don’t like being told what to do—asking how you can help empowers them to take charge of their recovery, while also letting them know you are a source of support.

6) Establish Boundaries

As you support your struggling loved one, it’s important to consider both your boundaries and theirs. When trying to help, you are susceptible to neglecting yourself in the process; boundaries will help you maintain your self-care, while also empowering your loved one. Be sure you’re not working harder than they are at their own healing process.

As a caring person, you may grapple between wanting to encourage and support your loved one while wanting to honor their process and independence. Unfortunately, there are no foolproof guidelines for helping your loved one on their journey towards recovery. However, you can connect to your intentions, convey compassion and maintain your own self-care while empowering your loved one regardless of where they are in their healing journey.

By Shainna Ali

https://www.nami.org/Blogs/NAMI-Blog/March-2018/6-Ways-You-Can-Help-a-Loved-One-on-Their-Healing-J

Understanding Self-Harm

Self-harm is difficult to understand because it goes against the natural human instinct of self-preservation. Maybe that’s why some people react to it in a negative, judgmental way. They can’t imagine ever being in a state of mind where they would hurt themselves, so they can’t understand why anyone else would.

This lack of understanding can lead to insensitivity and stigma towards people who are often already struggling with serious emotional turmoil. Self-harm is usually a sign that a person is having a tough time coping with their emotions. It’s frequently “used” as a coping mechanism for unmanageable mental health symptoms, although the experts don’t completely understand why some might self-medicate with drugs or alcohol, while others self-harm.

Several mental health conditions are associated with self-harming behaviors, including borderline personality disorder, depression, eating disorders, anxiety or posttraumatic distress disorder. People experiencing these conditions might self-harm for one or more of the following reasons:

  • To help manage unbearable emotions and symptoms
  • To help regain a sense of feeling (for those experiencing numbness)
  • To help relieve stress and pressure
  • To help feel in control
  • To reenact a trauma in an attempt to resolve it
  • To protect others from emotional pain

Any person can self-harm, but the largest percentage of people who engage in these type behaviors are teenagers (17.2%) and young adults (13.4%). According to psychologist Dr. Jennifer Muehlenkamp, “Those are the key ages because youth are experiencing multiple changes at the same time. They’re becoming more independent and transitions such as from junior high into high school or to college creates a lot of change. There’s a lot of new stress and pressures.”

What Should I Do?

Self-harm seems to provide some level of relief from emotional pain, and can become addictive. Like alcohol and other drugs, self-harm is a behavior that a person might feel they need increasingly more of to feel the same effect. It could also lead to other self-destructive coping mechanisms. So, if you or someone you know self-harms, here are a few first steps you can take to change this behavior.

Seek Treatment

Self-harm is a serious mental health symptom that requires evaluation and treatment. If you are having difficulty coping with intense emotions without the use of self-harm, consider talking with a mental health professional about one of the following treatment methods:

  • Cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) focuses on recognizing negative thought patterns and increasing coping skills.
  • Dialectical behavioral therapy (DBT) helps a person learn positive coping methods.
  • Psychodynamic therapy identifies how negative behaviors have been caused or influenced by past experiences and unresolved feelings.

Practice Positive Coping Mechanisms

It’s helpful to understand what triggers you (or your loved one) to self-harm. That way, you can implement healthy coping mechanisms to manage those triggers. Some examples are:

  • Direct the urge at something else – Use a punching bag, scream into a pillow or rip up a magazine
  • Self-soothe – Take deep breaths, take a bath or try meditation
  • Express yourself – Write how you feel or write creatively
  • Create something – Paint, draw or craft
  • Focus on music – Listen to your favorite song or play an instrument
  • Exercise – Run, dance or just go for a walk
  • Avoid alcohol and drugs – Substances can lower your self-control and increase risk of self-injury

Self-harm is a challenging mental health symptom to overcome—and lack of understanding only makes it that much more difficult to work through. When it comes to serious mental health symptoms like self-harm, we need to show others and ourselves compassion rather than judgement. There is no shame in needing support and help.