Why Am I so Open About my Mental Health?

"Why are you so open about your mental health?" It's a question I get fairly often from friends, and also from people I don't necessarily know that well. I've even gotten facebook messages from well-meaning people asking this question with a follow up: "Why are you so open about your mental health? You shouldn't be. Aren't you worried your job will find out, or that you'll never get another girlfriend or you'll lose friends?" 

The truth is, I have not always been open at all with my mental health. In fact, I was more closeted with that than I ever was with my own sexuality, and anyone who knows me well can attest that I was pretty deep in that one too. For a number of years, no one knew about my Bipolar I and my ADHD diagnoses, including my own family. I held that secret like it was the most shameful thing, and kept it hidden. No one knew about my suicide attempts, or my doctor's visits, or my endless supply of ever-changing medication. 

I used to hide my medication like it was some kind of illegal contraband. I remember going out with friends, my pills wrapped in a tiny piece of foil stuffed in my pocket. Surreptitiously, I'd peek at my phone, and then at the right time, I'd disappear into the bathroom and toss down my meds with tap water from a bathroom sink. I'd be sick almost immediately after because they were not taken correctly at all, but at least they were taken and I could fight through the sickness. Bipolar Disorder is frequently stigmatized in the media, and I did not want to lose friends because I was "crazy."

If you've ever been in a closet for any length of time, you know that there is nothing more exhausting than hiding who you really are. And I too felt that fatigue and broke down my lesbian closet door. The mental health one, though, was still firmly locked. More people knew than when I was first diagnosed, but it was still a shameful secret. Something to be feared instead of embraced, or at the very least understood. 

And to be fair, if shit didn't hit the fan this summer, I don't know if the psychiatric closet door would have ever been smashed down. But now that it has, I feel better about myself than I have in years. I can admit why I don't feel well, instead of having to create and then remember some insane lie. I can freely advocate for myself, I can explain to friends when I need to cancel a plan, instead of lying. And I can say "Tuesdays and Wednesdays generally are hard for me because I have a therapist appointment." The fact I no longer have to lie is a great weight lifted off my shoulders, and the fact that I finally accept what I have, has been more liberating than anything. I can finally admit when something is off, but I can finally celebrate the successes I have made. I graduated Gen Psych, and posted a blog and Facebook post about it. I never would have done that a year ago. I would have been too terrified. But even before I started seeing N. as an outpatient, she said something that stuck with me and prompted my coming out, so to speak. "Even flatworms have judgments. Everyone will have a judgment. The question is, do you let those judgments define you?"

And I did, for far too many years. But I am doing so no longer. So when you ask me am I afraid--the answer is no. Stigma will always be there, but that does not define me. I'm good at my job (at least I like to think so, and the kids more or less seem to be learning), and my diagnoses do not impact that. I push through bad days for my kids, same as every other teacher. Am I afraid to lose friends? No, not any more. I've got an amazing group, and if you want to leave because of my diagnosis, then I don't need you in my life.  Am I afraid that I'll never have another girlfriend? No, I think somewhere out there, if it's meant to be, there's someone who will love and accept me for who I am, Bipolar and ADHD included. 

It's not easy breaking out of a closet, especially in a world like ours, full of stigma and judgment. And I more than understand that. But breaking out has allowed me, for the first time in 33 years, to say and own my own name: Kelley Blessing. Because for the first time, I fully accept my medical condition, that it's part of but not all of who I am, and I know that Kelley Blessing is far more incredible than her diagnosis. If you are willing to look beyond it, no doubt you'll see that too. 

I promised I wouldn't preach in this blog, and I'm not. But I will end this entry with a word of advice. If you ever find yourself trapped in a closet, think long and hard about why you are there. Know that you are an incredible person, and don't let any closet doors shut out your light. In time, when you are ready, break that door down, realize the amazing person that you are and proudly let others see that too. That is my wish for you. 

Teaching with ADHD

I have been asked many times by friends and other people: "How do you teach with severe ADHD? It must be hard holding any job, but teaching you need to be so on things." So, I've decided to write a blog post dedicated to that topic. I'm going to preface it by saying this is MY experience, I cannot and would not ever speak for other teachers with ADHD. My blog, my personal experience. That being said...YES IT IS VERY HARD!!! But also is VERY AWESOME!

See, I love teaching and I love my current district and job. So I'm motivated to do well, I want to get rehired, and most importantly I want to show up every day and be the best possible teacher I can be for my students and to continue to inspire them in theatre.  That being said, I also know from years of teaching and dealing with my brain, that there are a lot of challenges I need to deal with on a daily basis that some other teachers don't. That's cool. I'm not jealous, we all have our own little invisible backpacks, but I just know I need to work harder than sometimes I'd like. How do I do it? Here're the steps:


First...my therapist is beyond amazing. I met N. this summer, there are other blog posts describing that, but I told her when I first graduated IOP and she agreed to take me on as an outpatient client, that I wanted to "get it right, be successful, and be a rockstar teacher." Challenge, on her end, was accepted. She quickly realized organization and routine were non-existent in my life and would be an uphill struggle. Enter: Our three-step organizational planner. We both know I'm busy, we both acknowledge I'm busy with more than just teaching. And this planning system helps. I spit draft ALL THE THINGS that are on my plate, and then through the new few pages, narrow ALL THE THINGS into four to five manageable goals, and a very simple and easy to meet daily To-Do List. This is literally something we've stuck in a binder, what teacher doesn't have a million binders, I keep it open on my desk, and reference it throughout the day. It keeps me on task knowing what it is I need to actively get done.

Two: Routine. I'm bad at this--so bad in fact that I have multiple post-its from N. all over the walls of my room. Bedtime routines so I can get at least four hours of sleep, morning routines, med routines, medication alarms in my phone, class schedule alarms in my phone, laundry routines--if there is a routine in life, I guarantee N. has thought of it and created it for me and stuck it on a post-it. These Post Its are hung around my room and not only can I keep up with everyday tasks, but I can get out of the house on time without leaving things behind (well mostly. My wallet still does get forgotten). My roommate who is also one of my best friends has also jumped on the N. train and gave me a designated spot in our apartment for my wallet and keys. (I'm proud to say they make it there 85% of the time).

Three: Disclosing and being open with my immediate supervisor. This sucked to do, but I tend to get overwhelmed with tasks I don't fully understand, and that's generally how I get myself in trouble. So, after talking it over with N. I decided to "come clean" and disclose my ADHD diagnosis. It has worked wonders. I'm more successful in faculty meetings now that my ADHD behaviors are known,  it's been easier to schedule multiple meetings to break down complex tasks into easier to understand pieces, I have a chance to fix disorganized paperwork, and the general check-ins have been amazing. It's nice to hear someone say: "The kids love you and your class. Thanks for telling me. We can both do our parts to ensure you're as successful as possible."

Four: In school friends, and a support system. My colleagues are FANTASTIC! In my last school I only made one incredible friend (yes, we're still friends even though we are in different district-she keeps me sane). But here, I really fit with the staff. I have made a ton of friends, and they are all beyond incredible. They know what's up with me, and we all help each other out. It's really a school where teamwork makes the dreamwork. We go out, we hang out at work, we jump on each other's projects to help, we share resources, and we keep each other sane during faculty meetings (I even share my self soothe kit and fidgets so we can all survive). I wouldn't be nearly as successful without them.

Five: Always knowing what I have to do ahead of time. I know myself. I know I forget everything, even if it's on my To-Do list. So, things I know must always be done, I set my own deadline. All of my lesson plans must be done by EOD Thursday, with no exceptions. This way, I can assure myself, that I will not forget about them over the weekend. I also have time, then, if I managed to forget! N. calls it a "Cope ahead" skill. I call it: "Trying not to screw myself over." Both the same thing.

Six: Incorporate things I learned in therapy into every lesson I can. Doing acting--Emotional Regulation! Kids are being hyper--Mindfulness! Can't decide on a play topic? Walking the Middle Path. Tempers flaring? TIPP. By doing this, I have given myself tools that I can automatically depend on to help me out, and my kids have adapted to them and like using them. They like the DBT method of accessing emotions, they enjoy TIPP and they sometimes ask for a minute of mindfulness before or after class. They have also grown accustomed to me having fidgets, which they use during class if they're finding their own attention wavering or if they're struggling to sit still. We have a fidget culture which is awesome!

Speaking of students, seven: My students. They motivate me more than anything or anyone else. They come every day ready to do their best, and so how can I not do mine? If they bring their best, how can I not bring my own? N. suggested that when I'm having a rough day, to be open with them, and I have. I'll tell the kids, "I'm giving you the heads up. I'm having a really bad day today, just like you have really bad days sometimes. You can call me out if I'm being grumpy, but I'm just letting you know and asking for a little bit of understanding." And they are absolutely fantastic! Now they're more inclined to tell me when things are off with them, and in doing so, I've finally managed to create the ensemble feel in my classroom that I've always wanted. Together, we've been able to create a safe, brave, space with support and empathy.

So there you have it. How do I teach with ADHD? A ton of supports, love of my job, and a ton of GRIT, TIPP and DBT skills. I hope this post gave you some insight into my life as a teacher with ADHD and some of the struggles and rewards.

The Health Insurance Waiting Period

I'm very fortunate that I have a full-time job doing something I absolutely love. I am even more fortunate that my job offers a comprehensive health insurance plan that includes psych. I'm the most fortunate that my therapist and a handful of psychiatrists (they're just hard to find) take my insurance.

What I'm not fortunate with is the waiting period. I'm at the point where my medical insurance from my previous job ended, and although I am enrolled in my new insurance, it is not active for a little while. So I came to the dreaded point--my medication ran out. And that struggle has been real.

In my world, a lot of people don't seem to understand just how dangerous and difficult it is when meds run out, and in this post I hope to shed some light and show just what this perilous time looks like.

For me, it looks like this:

I looks like not sleeping in 3 days other than an hour a night.

It looks like getting up at 5:15 every morning, dragging myself into the shower, and getting ready for work.

It looks like driving to my job, my mind in a complete fog, GPS is the only way I can get there, and mentally pulling out my theatre training.

It looks like becoming an actor and acting like my brain is perfect, and my body isn't breaking down under the strain. The performance, for over 8 hours, is beyond exhausting.

It looks like forcing a smile and small talk with co-workers.

It looks like locking myself in my classroom to have silence, and attempting to complete the checklist system my therapist put in place for me.

It looks like teaching, and fully enjoying part of my day. Being fully in the moment, educating my kids and loving every second of it. A moment of respite from the misery.

It looks like closing the door after my students leave and collasping in my chair drained.

It looks like taking deep breaths and somehow finding the strength to teach again, and again.

It looks like texting and emailing my therapist daily, and her getting back to me every single time.

It looks like not eating and hating the concept of food.

It looks like staying late at work, and knowing if I let myself go for one moment, give into the siren call of my brain and body, I will lose everything.

It looks like for the first time realizing how much I'd have to lose and how much I am willing to fight.

It looks like crying in my car after work, riding the wave of anger and sadness, letting the exhaustion take over for just a minute.

It looks like popping an icepack and practicing a TIPP skill so I can safely drive home.

It looks like being in constant motion like a shark, walking for hours on end just to expel the excess energy.

It looks like apologizing to friends for being out of touch.

It looks like shaking hands and fuzzy thoughts.

It looks like curling up in a ball, crying.

It looks like collapsing in my therapist's office, my head in my hands, too exhausted to speak.

It looks like N. sliding a cup of coffee to me, and smiling. "This must be so hard for you, we'll get through it. I'm here for you."

It looks like N. realizing I don't actually want to talk, so she launches into a mini-monologue.

It looks like me admitting to wanting a pet hedgehog and beginning to speak.

It looks like N. working hard to make this session go somewhere--even referencing Sherlock Holmes so I'd at least try to engage.

It looks like N. trying to discuss my manic activity, and me getting embarrassed to admit I almost drove four hours for a Tinder hook up.

It looks like her helping me come up with better alternatives that "won't get you dead or arrested."

It looks like silence.

It looks like N.'s eyes narrowing--she's figured something out.

It looks like her mentioning the play I've written, and beginning to bring up the source of nightmares I always have when I'm like this. Nightmares we've never discussed.

It looks like a moment of pure compassion that brought me to tears. "It's not your fault. It never has been, it never will be. Perceived hindsight--I made up the term--is when you think that choice A was shitty, so choice B would have been amazing. Your life would have been so perfect if you had only chosen B. That's bullshit. There is choice A and choice B but there's also choice C, D, E and so on. This happened to you--it was shitty, he's a fucking shitty person, and I'm hurting for you. But it's not your fault. If you leave here and have listened to nothing else, take away the fact that this was never your fault. You were a child. And then you were an adult who made the choices you needed to make to survive. Anyone would do that--we want to survive. It's not your fault."

It looks like my shoulders sagging, a weight coming off them I didn't know I had. "No one has ever truly said that to me. Not like that."

It looks like N. smiling. "Well now someone has."

It looks like N. realizing how desperate I am for meds, and advocating for me to get them ASAP.

It looks like sitting in silence, my mind starting to slow.

It looks like me driving home, tears in my eyes, but feeling somehow lighter.

It looks like broken promises and dreams, that circle my head in the dark.

It looks like a countdown on my calendar until my meds arrive.

It looks like whispered prayers to a God I stopped believing in long ago.

It looks like missing my mom more than anything else, and wishing beyond measure she could lay next to me, and hug me in the tight way that only a mom can. I'd feel safe then.

]It looks like too many deadlines and not enough time.

It looks like numbing myself with X-Box at 2:00 AM.

It looks like losing all hope, and yet hanging on. Dialectics--life is shitty AND it will get better.

It looks like wanting to give up, but finding that one glimmer to hold on to.

It looks like realizing living is a choice and making the choice, no matter how hard it gets, to stay.

How I Learned the Importance of Therapy

I was never one to give therapy a chance. I went to a few one off's, but never really found any that were helpful. So, for years, I poo-pooed the very idea of therapy, deciding it wasn't for me at a very early stage of my illness, so I just moved forward relying on medication alone. After all, no one knows me better than me--so I got this.

After being in this IOP (Intensive Out-Patient) DBT therapy program for the past 6 weeks, I will humbly admit I was completely wrong. I hadn't quite understood how incredible and helpful therapy could be until I met T. N. and D--three amazing therapists I will be extremely sad to leave once my time in IOP is over. Each one of them brought her unique skillset to my therapy and has helped me to both grow in the understanding of my own illness, and also as a person. Each of them has had such compassion for me at my worst, helped me through by teaching me skills, acknowledging when I have been successful and helping me to continue moving forward in a positive direction.

T. has been a rockstar in just dealing with me. She's been a real champion of me, listening to my

medication concerns, nagging my psychiatrist to meet with me, advocating my own medication desires to my psychiatrist, and waiting for an appointment for me, even though it meant sacrificing her own break. T. also has like this amazing 6th sense to know something is wrong whenever I entered the building--even before I said a word. "Kel, come with me real quick." And we'd go to her office, even when I didn't know why, and she'd say: "So what's up? Talk to me, I can tell there's something wrong." And then I'd explode, and we'd talk through the situation, and find some kind of solution.  T. is always ready, and if I knocked, and she wasn't in session, her office door opened, she smiled and said: "What's up Kel?" Sometimes I'd just need to talk, or sometimes just deescalate in her office and play with the kinetic sand. She's also one of the most empathetic people I know--which makes it so easy to talk to her.

N. is literally the deescalation guru. I've never met a single person, save for the few OTs I know,
to have such a deep understanding and compassion for sensory issues, and have such an ability to deescalate and treat a sensory meltdown. She's also brilliant at non-verbal cues in a group setting, never calling me out on my shit and just offering help when needed without bringing attention to my own struggles. I was having a brutal day before group, she saw it, and breezed into the group room with all the things, for everyone.  "Looks like today's a rough day. I've brought mints--because they taste better than cotton or rayon--and I've brought rocks, take one-throw it back and forth, up and down, hold it, I don't care. Just use them. If you need a break, take one, just be quite about leaving. Okay? Okay." Or the day I was running without meds, without sleep, because of my dad's medical stuff. "Need something from my office to get through today? Go get it. (In reference to her stuffed elephant). Get whatever you need from in there, come back, and be ready to work."  N. is also brilliant at not just validation but sincere acknowledgment of a job well done. "Great make do skill," she said when I replaced my shirt with a chewy. "It's 11:30 AM and you haven't yet been in my office melting down. Keep it up." Or the one that was the best: "You're so, so together today. I think you've finally crossed the threshold. Proud of you." It's amazing what a few small words or actions can do to help change behaviors. N. is a great example of the kind of teacher I want to be this upcoming school year.

D. always has an ever-ready coloring book and crayon, and always willing to chat after DBT, to make sure all was okay with me. She is always really amazing at keeping it real, and sharing her own struggles so I didn't feel isolated in mine. She repeatedly fought and fought with my psychiatrist when she didn't agree with the medication adjustments and kept nagging her when she didn't see a change in my hyperactivity. She's also a pro at bringing fidgets (like dry erase markers) that were inconspicuous in a group setting. 

These three women have completely changed my life for the better, have given me skills to get through my toughest time, have also given me tough love when needed. They've pushed me harder than I have ever been pushed before, have forced me to look at myself in ways I have never before done so, and made me a stronger person because of it. I know I have done the work, as N. says: "That's all you," but their guidance has made it completely possible.

I started six weeks ago, completely against therapy. As I leave this IOP program on Friday, I can say, wholeheartedly, I am a proponent of therapy and a complete advocate of its place in treating mental health. These women have not only helped me to grow, but opened my eyes to seeing the huge therapeutic value of therapy in conjunction with medication. For all of these things, I am sincerely grateful.

Insomnia--Part of the Uphill Battle and Dangerous Symptom.

Insomnia. According to Webmd, Insomnia is "a sleep disorder characterized by difficulty falling and/or staying asleep" (https://www.webmd.com/sleep-disorders/guide/insomnia-symptoms-and-causes#1). Apparently, I have secondary insomnia, defined by webmd as: "a person is having sleep problems because of something else, such as a health condition" (ibid). And there you have it. This is my 5th night in a row where I haven't been able to sleep, and I'm starting to get worried.

See, I've been "up" for a few days now. Not manic, not quite yet, but because things in my life are starting to turn around, my brain can't quite handle it. See, the problem with Bipolar Disorder One is that any kind of anxiety, good or bad, can trigger mania. And this not sleeping thing is certainly an area of the gravest concern.


When I don't sleep a few things happen, I get very creative, which stimulates my mind even more. I feel the effects of my medication more so than usual. Lithium has pretty much killed my short term memory, and since I haven't been sleeping, it's getting worse. I'm feeling the gaps in my brain, and can actually visualize little wires short-circuiting. I'm not forgetting important stuff, but small things, my debit card, my wallet, my keys, what I just was thinking, ideas, books, character names, people's names, and so much more I can't remember. Not sleeping makes that worse.

I'm also exhausted--my body is pretty much done. And I've been working my ass off at controlling my thoughts (I can't get in to see my doctor, so I'm not able to get the anti-anxiety meds that I need to knock the fuck out). When I don't sleep, I get all kinds of intrusive thoughts, and I'm opposite actioning the shit out of them (DBT skill for another entry). It's why this entry is being born, I'm trying to use a positive behavior to change the negative thought (I'm useless and can't really do things. Opposite thought: I'm useful and can get things done). I've been treating my thoughts like a highway with cars racing. Cops stop each car (thought) and if it's not something that I can use, he sends it back. I probably should use a calmer image, but I like this one.

I'm starting to feel like I'm that guy who walked on the tightrope between the Twin Towers. If the wind takes me and I go too far, it's death. Keeping my eyes and fighting for my balance is life. I'm right in the middle of the fucking wire, and it's getting harder and harder to combat the wind (mania). I'm supposed to see my doctor on Thursday, so I hope I'll get the meds I need, and a med adjustment, and I'll be fine. I want to make it to the other side.

Thank God for Simon Cowell and the nine million videos of him on youtube. If I ever get a book published or a play produced on Broadway, he's a person I'd love to meet. Thank God too for Jeremy Brett videos. Two Brits to keep my somewhat fucking sane in the dark recesses of the night.

The Importance of a Good Support Network With Mental Illness

The phrase support network gets thrown around quite a lot in the mental health world, but there are varied definitions. According to the University of Washington, a support network is: "the people in your life that help you achieve your personal and professional goals" (University of Washington Support Network). I really like this definition, as I think it's the clearest one I've come across. And yet, I think it neglects one fundamental aspect of a good support network--Love.

It's been about three months since my world started to spin out of control, and even at times when I was most attempting to isolate, my support network (my friends who have become family, and some of my actual family) never fully allowed me to do so. They were always there on the periphery or giving tough love, or a combination of many things so that I could remain alive. And that was extremely important. 

However, I never really understood the importance of having a good support network until now--three months later, and pretty much mentally stable. Coming out of the hospital and being in an intensive DBT outpatient is not easy, especially since I've been really attempting to have a life outside of therapy. I've been attempting to go out with friends, family, and attempting to put my life on track. And this is where my support network has really stepped up and helped me. 

Going into social situations after a manic meltdown is always hard for me. I never really know what people are going to say. Are they going to ask me invasive questions? Are they going to act weird around me like I'm going to kill myself in front of them? Are they going to disappear from my life forever because of what has happened? I've had all of these experiences, and after the psychotic break I recently suffered, such fears were real. My friends B and AM reminded me that family sticks around, which means not giving up on each other easily. But, even with that assurance, it can be scary. Not everyone is as forgiving as they are. 

But, in spite of my fears, I knew that I could not stop living. And that meant seeing people. My current family (friends and those family members who have stayed around) showed me, quite clearly, that B and AM were correct. No one asked invasive questions, or was weird. And everyone I left while in Carrier was still there when I got out. A huge shift in my life, and one that has really changed my world view, from rather cynical in terms of close friendships, to grateful for them.

Support network for me means real love, tough love, empathy and the desire to help me succeed, while getting the same in return from me. It means being there for me, and supporting me, but also calling me on my bullshit, and getting support from me. It means helping me work on skills, but still being willing to argue with me and treat me like every other person. It means helping me to meet my needs, but also getting needs met by me. To help me get out of my comfort zone, but being empathetic when things can get too much, and expecting the same in return. And all of these people I am privileged to call family are there, doing all of the above and more. They're all making me feel like a whole person, who is getting "better than before" (Next to Normal). 

One such example was a friend's birthday party in the city last week. T, one of my best friends, double-checked that I wanted to go, and I said a resounding yes. But the night of the party, my anxiety started to kick in, and I had wanted to stay at home in sweats watching Jeremy Brett and writing. She wasn't going to let me stay home, so the two of us reached an agreement. If I went with her, and agreed to stay until our friend got a birthday drink and a few songs were sung (it was a karaoke night), I could decide when we left, no arguments, and no questions asked. It was awesome, I had a great time, and I really appreciated my friend helping to empower me, while both of us were safe, comfortable, and got what we wanted. Support and love. 

From past experience, staying in a psych ward means breaking trust with people. Many times people refused to give me back my responsibilities for the irrational fear of it "being too much" or I "can't handle the stress." That hasn't helped me, but has had the opposite reaction. It's made me feel like a shitty person who can never be trusted, and therefore cannot have a normal life. 

This time, the reaction was not like that. My support network has really been helping me to get back into the swing of my life, and giving me back a lot of the responsibility I lost. My friend C still wants me to stage-manage the show she's directing next year. B, AM, KB1, and the whole church congregation still trust me to do stuff, with the same confidence in my abilities that they had before, my theatre crew still wants me to work, and my family doesn't treat me as though I'm a doll that can break any second. This is huge for me, and life-affirming. I'm me, no matter what I've been through, and I finally have people who accept me, love me, and trust me. 

The fact I have surrounded myself with amazing people who love me has really made all the difference in my "recovery." I feel like I have my life back, despite all of the road bumps I have hit along the way. I know for fact, that I would not feel this way, or feel as successful as I do, without my strong and incredible support network that is standing beside me. I finally understand why Bipolar groups and therapists talk about having such a network because the right people in your life can make such a difference. And it really has in mine. And so, to my amazing support network, in the words of the musical Wicked, "Because I knew you, I have been changed for good."

DBT...How it ACTUALLY saved me from melting down!

Today's post is going to discuss DBT, or Dialectical behavioral therapy, and how it has acutally helped me this weekend to not lose control. This is a huge accomplishment for me because emotional regulation is such a struggle, and triggers can easily set me off. But before I get into my personal triumph, I'll explain a bit more about DBT.

DTB is a form of therapy formed in the 1980s by a woman named Marsha Linehan (History of DBT). It was first developed to treat Borderline Personality Disorder, but has since been used to treat a wide variety of psychological disorders, including Bipolar Disorder (History of DBT). From what I gathered through going to DBT group therapy sessions is, DBT believes that actions increase our thoughts and feelings, and our thoughts and feelings increase our actions. In essence, it's a way to achieve balance. It's got five tenents: mindfulness (being aware and present in the moment), Distress tolerance (how to avoid the explode), Walking the Middle Path (balance, turning either or statements into AND), Emotional Regulation (how to balance emotions) and Interpersonal Effectiveness (establishing boundaries for yourself and how to meet your own needs). 

When my therapist originally recommended I start DBT therapy, I rolled my eyes and protested. The whole concept sounded way too zen to me--I mean, walking the middle path? Mindfulness? What the hell was I going to do with that? It sounded to me like she wanted me to drink some sort of Kool-Aid and I was less than keen. However, after some real pushing, and having the director of the DBT program come in and speak with me, I didn't really feel as though I had a choice. Fine, I decided. I would go there, but I didn't have to like it or participate. 

Needless to say, I went into my first DBT group with zero enthusiasm, zero goals to achieve, and generally a bad attitude towards it. I had my binder, which I was able to decorate (I ordinally would have enjoyed decorating it, but I was mad, and felt like I was being treated like a Pre-K student), and sat down at the table with my fellow DBTer's. They had all been in the program longer, so they were trying to be friendly, and I wanted no part of it. I was friendly enough, I guess, smiled appropriately. But I honestly didn't want to be there. 

When group started, it was led by N., a very good therapist who I happen to respect. I found my bad attitude starting to go away. She ran the group much like a college lecture, she gave information, we filled out notes. We shared and discussed. I came during a unit, Emotional Regulation, that I severely need work on, and N. reminded me of that when I was getting a bit too snarky. When she called me out on my bullshit, I respected her all the more, and decided to actually listen and give it a go. 

D., another therapist, also runs the DBT group, and I took immediately to her sense of humor and her not by the book approach. She personalizes all the skills, and gives us her own real world, concrete example of how each can be used. We also share our homework and discuss with her, but it's a little more laid back. 

I've sat through three DBT groups so far, and the three skills I learned saved my life this weekend. First, the skills, then how I implemented to keep myself sane. 

The first skill was actually naming, and understanding your emotions. At first, I was like, um I

My work: Describing my own anger

learned how to do this back during my Sesame Street days, but N. immediately changed that thought as she started to teach us the myths and the facts of emotions. For example, there is no "wrong" or "right" emotion for a given situation, and emotions don't ever just happen, our thoughts create them. We had to think of an emotion that we really struggled with (mine was anger) and we had to act like Sherlock Holmes, and mentally observe ourselves in that emotion. We had to figure out the physical reactions of our body during that emotion, our thoughts during that emotion, how the emotion holds us back, and how it helps us. Since I have a background in Laban Movement Analysis, it wasn't hard for me to go back in my mind and visualize myself angry. What did surprise me was the fact I hadn't thought to do this before. I hadn't realized, on a conscious level, anyway, that my body fully reacted to strong emotion--or at least I never paid attention to it before. 

The second skill is called "Riding the Wave" (of emotion). This skill is really hard, because it doesn't involve you doing anything. There are no coping skills to be used. Instead,  you have to sit in your emotion, and like Sherlock Holmes, analyze yourself in it. Emotions last only 10-12 minutes in their highest intensity, so if you can hang on through that, then they'll dimish. So you start the at the bottom, when the emotion starts, you ride it through its climax (the peak of intensity), and then you

My work: Riding the Wave

ride it through the descending part. It's at the descent that you can then grab a coping skill and help calm yourself. The idea behind this is we often shut off our emotions, grabbing a coping skill before we even experience them, so the energy of the emotion never fully dies. It just continues on this vicious cycle and it never really diminishes, so it just kinda hangs out, and not in a good way.  

People with mental illnesses aren't the only ones who shut off their emotions. Everyone does, no one really wants to feel "negative" emotions often or in their fullest intensity. Instead, everyone tries to cope as opposed to experience. This sounds weird, and easy, but it's really not. It's hard as hell to have an emotion, and feel it all the way through its 10-12 minute crest. It's even harder for me. I have Bipolar Disorder, so riding the wave can be like sitting on a razor blade. If it gets too much, and I don't use a skill, I can go manic or depressed. D. emphasized that for really intense emotions, skills should be used first and foremost. But for the lesser ones, riding the wave can help you understand your body, your thoughts, and what is happening to you while you're in this emotion. 

The third skill was understanding the model for fully describing an emotion. It started with

My work: Naming and Describing
 Emotions

"vulnerability factors" things that make us more predisposed to feeling an intense emotion. Some of these can be not sleeping well, not eating, medication changes, biological factors, past trauma, etc. Things that make us feel less than our best. Then there is the "prompting event #1" (the exact situation that happened to trigger the emotion), followed by the "interpretation of the event" (how we think, feel, perceived the prompting event #1). Then come the brain and body changes (how our body is affected by the event and the interpretation. These are in the inside changes, the ones someone else can't see like temperature raising, muscle tension, etc), and then our "facial and body language" (what our face and body is doing--external, shaking, grinding teeth, etc). Then we can "name the emotion" (what emotion is actually being felt) and finally, we have the "after effects" (what happens after the emotion is named). The cycle can repeat itself again with a new emotion that creeps up after the original one is named. 

The whole point of this is to know that something happens, then we interpret this event in a way that triggers a biological, mental and emotional response. By knowing what is happening in your body, you'll be able to figure out the emotion you're feeling and be able to process things accordingly. This is especially important because the body starts reacting to the emotion way before we actually process through what the emotion is. 

So this weekend was a bit of a stressful weekend (not necessarily in a bad way). On Thursday I got together with some friends for a hangout, Friday saw more friends and worked on a project, and today I've been able to decompress.

Thursday was awesome, I got to see some friends, discuss some good literature, and hang out. Was a good start to the weekend. 

Friday, however, was a bit rocky. An incident occurred that has to do with my immediate, blood family (and blood family is harder, generally, to deal with than friends who have become family). I was driving up to North Jersey once again, to meet up with some friends and work on a project. I was looking forward to it, they make up a large portion of my "crew" and our project was helping others, which is always a good thing. So I was feeling a lot of joy as I was making my way up North. 

However, as I was driving, I became aware of an incident that involved me, my step-mom, and other people in our family. I don't want to throw any of my family members under the bus, so I'm painting the incident in broad strokes. Words were said that bothered me, because I absolutely love my stepmom and the other members of my family, so the incident was quite unnerving to me. 

Immediately, I started feeling my body tense, my hands clench around the steering wheel, I grew hot and my thoughts started to race. This was not going to be good, so I knew I needed to stop the spiral before I exploded, and fully ruined familial relations. I knew, as soon as I felt it in my body, I was angry. And because I recognized the anger so quickly, I had options before I exploded and it got out of hand.  The first, I could fully engage and let it explode. The second, I could ride the wave and sit. The third, I could use a TIPP (another DBT tool for another blog post) coping skill, cut off the emotion and analyze later.  

Since I was driving up the Garden State Parkway doing around 75 MPH (I speed when I'm mad), I chose the latter. I went into my TIPP toolbox and started doing some "paced breathing" in through my nose and out of my mouth on the count of 5. This helped me relax, and even be able to listen to what the other person was saying, without the veil of anger clouding my brain

When the conversation ended, I said "okay," and didn't engage any further with that information. I had interpreted it as "I'm a problem" and knew I needed to analyze more deeply. However, I had breathed through the anger, was still driving safely, and was going to see my friends. The crisis, for the moment, had passed. 

However, there were aftereffects, but for the first time in my life, I understood what was happening and was able to act appropriately. As my friends and I got together and started work on our project, I found myself feeling irritated, and no one there did anything wrong. The physical work was hard, but I enjoy intense physical labor, and yet I found myself getting annoyed for no reason. I did a quick check in with myself, and realized I wasn't feeling anger towards my friends, but rather was still angry at the situation that had happened earlier. Once I realized I was feeling what my mom used to call, "misplaced anger," I was able to literally check myself before I totally wrecked myself and most of my friendships. I used a

TIPP, (this time intense exercise since that was what we were doing), and that anger instantly abated. I was able to fully delve into the work we were doing, and fully enjoy the company of my friends.  

This morning, I realized I was still not feeling right--the anger was still there--so I called my step-mom and the other people involved. All is good, and I'm now working through the annoyance I'm feeling that the situation even happened in the first place. 

I know it might not seem like a big deal, but my behavior this weekend was such a huge improvement from where I was.  Without the DBT skills, I would have lost very important friendships on Friday, because I would have been lashing out at people who did nothing wrong, simply because I couldn't understand my own emotions. I never would have known that the anger I felt with my friends was anger left over from the situation earlier, and I certainly wouldn't have known how to deal with it safely. In addition to saving my friendships, DBT skills also gave me the power to call my dad and step-mom, tell them exactly how I was feeling, and explain the situation. 

I don't often give myself credit, but I'm very proud of how I successfully implemented coping skills from DBT to save myself, my friendships, and my relationship with my family. Now that I know that they work, I am looking forward to learning more DBT skills, and continue to grow and learn in my ability to manage my mental illness. Things are starting to look up. 

CBT...Goals, and Trials, and letters, Oh My!

This is the second post in the therapy series, and today it's going to focus on CBT or Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. CBT was founded by Dr. Aaron T. Beck in the 1960's at the University of Pennsylvania (History of CBT). And according to the Mayo Clinic, it's a type of therapy that is done for a myriad of mental illnesses, because it "can quickly help you identify and cope with specific challenges"(Mayo Clinic CBT sources) Trigger warning: Mentions of Rape later in this post! 

Again, I do not have years of psych training behind me, but my own definition of CBT is this: it is a type of therapy that believes things (thoughts, feelings, behaviors), are interconnected. Thoughts create feelings which create behaviors. Feelings create behaviors which create thoughts. Behaviors create thoughts which create feelings--or any combination of such things. In other words, it's a way to look at pieces of you: behaviors, thoughts, feelings and see what else they are affecting.

There hasn't been a lot I've taken away from CBT, as it feels very academic, and it reminds me of my intro to psych classes in high school and at Drew.  However, there are two CBT things that I have decided I'm going to use in my life outside of therapy. The first are S.M.A.R.T. Goals. 

I will admit when I first heard I had to sit through a goal setting group, I rolled my eyes hard. I remembered all the teacher PDs I sat through with creating goals that never got met. I also thought back to my own childhood where goal setting was always something I despised and was bad at. So I was prepared, as you can imagine, to absolutely hate S.M.A.R.T. Goals.

When I finally forced myself to tune into what the therapist was saying, I realized that this type of goal setting was unlike all the other types I've tried before. It was more S.M.A.R.T! 😜S.M.A.R.T. means your goal must be:  Specific, Measurable, Attainable, Realistic, and Timely. This helps you take really big goals and break them into smaller ones that are easier to achieve. Setting goals up in this way makes the failure rate low, and success rate high. Here's a goal I set for myself, back at Carrier, and as of 7:00 PM tonight, I actually accomplished!!!!! 🎉🎈🎈🎈🎉:

Jeremy Brett-the ultimate
Sherlock Holmes. He's an inspiration
to me because he suffered from
Bipolar Disorder, and in addition
to being an amazing Sherlock Holmes,
was also a great advocate for it. 

Goal: I want to finish my Sherlock Holmes story, The Adventure of the Christmas Crypt, by writing or editing uninterrupted for 30 minutes per day for the next three weeks.

This goal is specific--it's exactly what I want to finish, it's measurable--30 minutes per day gives me a way to measure my progress, it's attainable--I can absolutely finish it in 3 weeks (and I did!), it's realistic--I have the resources I need, and it's timely--I gave myself 3 weeks to do it.


Prior to setting this S.M.A.R.T. Goal, this story had been sitting in my google docs unfinished and untouched. I liked the story, but somehow decided to abandon it as I often do. When the therapist made us set our own S.M.A.R.T. Goal, that story was the first thing to jump into my head, so I ran with it. And now, I've achieved it. I think the S.M.A.R.T. goal definitely kept me accountable, because of the measured time--I didn't have to write for hours on end. Just 30 minutes. That was very doable. The S.M.A.R.T. goal was able to keep me focused, and keep my work in the forefront of my mind.

But, I'm still me, and still struggled with reaching the goal, because one of my skill sets is procrastination. However, when I used the S.M.A.R.T. goal, and pulled inspiration to finish strong today from the great conversation I had with my friend, P, yesterday, I had the impetus to spend today and finishing the story. My next S.M.A.R.T. goal will be for the editing process and then for what to do with Christmas Crypt next. But for right now, I feel great having accomplished my S.M.A.R.T. Goal! S.M.A.R.T. goals for the win!


The other CBT strategy I love is the idea of putting my thoughts on trial. It's a weird concept, and I immediately imagined my thoughts being on a witness stand with a white-wigged Victorian judge presiding. But, as ridiculous as that image seems, it's exactly what happens. 

Victorian Judge...the look of
who I imaged to be judging my thoughts. 

For whatever reason, I've been having a lot of thoughts about my own rape which occurred when I was 21. It might be from all the homophobia I've been seeing on my newsfeed and in the news recently (that pastor dude calling for the death of gays really got under my skin). I remember my rapist told me I was being punished for being a bad girl and a gay one. He was going to turn me straight. So my little intrusive thought, 11 years later, has been: was it okay for me to have been raped because I somehow provoked it?

It seemed like the perfect thought to put on trial!

Thought: Was it okay for me to be raped because my nature somehow provoked it?

Defense (Evidence in support of the thought): The person who raped me said it because I was a dyke. I was dressed like a boy. I was angry at myself that this happened.

Prosecution (Evidence against the thought): I have a right to be me. Rape is illegal. I have a right to be proud of who I am. My sexuality is not something that can be taken from me. No matter how I am dressed, it doesn't mean it's lawful to hurt me.

Judge's Verdict: When looking at the evidence, the prosecution wins. No matter what might have happened, rape is unlawful and is never okay. The only cause of rape is the rapist. I have a fundamental, human right to be the person I am, and no one can take that from me.

I agreed with the "judge" in this instance. Although I thought it was just a random exercise the CBT therapist gave us to pass the time, I honestly felt better after I received my "judge's" verdict. There's something very soothing about seeing both sides of a thought written out,  reviewing all pieces of the "evidence" then having a "judge" pass a verdict. And it did put my little intrusive thought into jail and it really hasn't come back since. I'm not saying this is going to be my process for everything, as it's a bit laborious for everyday thoughts, but I think I'm going to keep it in my back pocket for those intrusive thoughts that tend to appear. It is also important to stick to the facts as much as possible, what actually happened, not what the feeling was at the time.

CBT is a pretty cool, but far too academic, school of therapy for me. I liked the two coping skills I took away from the groups, but the rest of it, I left in the group therapy room. I think CBT is good for certain types of things, but I can't really imagine myself doing all of the CBT strategies when I'm in crisis. I prefer quicker, more tangible skills.

Types of Therapy...The Arts Therapy Post!

I never knew there was more than one type of therapy! In the past few months, I've been exposed to a wide variety of them. This post is my way of sorting through some of the larger ones, in attempt to help figure out what ones have worked best for me, and which ones to pursue in the future. As I'm going through my little notebook that has come from psych hospital to psych hospital, I want to take a few posts to explore the different types of therapies I've been exposed to.

Psych Journal

Arts therapy is the first type of therapy I'm tackling in this blog. Without knowing the textbook definition, it seems like this type of therapy uses the creative arts to help you express your emotions in safe ways through safe outlets. I've been in three hospitals in the past few months and the most common arts therapies have been: music, writing, movement, and art. I found the creative outlet awesome, especially in hospital settings where creative expression is rare, so overall, while I don't think I'd pursue these, necessarily as an outpatient, they were rockstar while stuck inpatient.

Music Therapy: This seems like a really popular one as it has been in every single hospital, even the first one I was at. Again, the idea of this type of therapy was to help us access and express emotions through music. This seems to be done two ways, one is by choosing a song to play for the group, listening to said song, expressing why you picked said song, and then a group discussion. The second way is by playing live instruments.

The picking, playing, discussing a song really helped to improve my iTunes library! I love listening to new music, so I jotted down the names of the ones I liked, and it was really fascinating to hear how different people connected to certain songs. I chose Breaking the Habit by Linkin Park, and that got a pretty good discussion going. I chose it from a mental health perspective--I really just want to stop fucking up my life by making awful choices while manic and finally learn some coping skills that work--and others took it from the perspective of addiction and how when the habit is finally broken, then life can start again. Was a good conversation which eventually led to coping skills as a discussion group.

The second type of music therapy--the one with the live instruments--didn't really do much for me. There wasn't a lot of direction, no tempo or rhythm set, so it was really a bunch of noise, which actually made me more anxious than anything. But, having been in drum circles before, I can see how just being carried away on a rhythm and blending various sounds can clear your mind. Unfortunately, this particular attempt at it, just didn't give me that same clarity.

Writing Therapy: This type of therapy seemed to use writing prompts, both fiction and non-fiction to process through emotions and trauma. I didn't know that writing therapy was a thing, and when I saw it on the schedule I was pretty excited. This group was handled in two ways: creative and journal writing. I found both extremely helpful, and while I don't think I need a therapist, necessarily, to guide me through writing, I'm going to keep it up as a valuable part of my own healing.

The creative writing experience, while I had a good time writing, kind of blew up on me. I'm a creative writer, with a bent towards darkness, so I haven't written anything "positive" in quite a number of years. My go to, as far as narrative, is horror, and my poetry is as dark as all Hell, so I didn't exactly set myself up for success. The therapist gave us a prompt, in this case it was about a young man walking somewhere (we had to decide) during an early sunset after a rainy day, carrying a paper bag of groceries. We had twenty minutes to write. Of course, I got right to work, my brain going. Andrew, my character, had killed someone in his past during Halloween, and as he was walking through the twilight, the pumpkins and the wind seemed to speak to him, mocking him to remember. When the time clocked out, I tacked on an ending, and then we all shared our stories and discussed them. Needless to say, considering this was in a psych hospital, there were so many questions about where this inspiration came from. I had no answer, but on a positive note, the therapist, as she was making notes in my chart, stated I was "a very talented, albeit intense writer." I was pleased with the compliment, but not so pleased when the haunted voices I created in this story kept returning to therapy sessions.

We also did journaling, which is a bit safer for me in terms of creativity, and responded to journal prompts about our lives, which we shared as a group. It was really sad, to see that a common thread amongst women in one group is sexual assault and rape, but these journal entries did open a conversation amongst us and we talked about different ways of coping, and ways to remove our own victim shaming and stop blaming ourselves for the actions of others. It was a really powerful thing to share all of that, and liberating to have a place to discuss and heal from such trauma in a way that was safe and where people understood.

Movement Therapy: 
This type of therapy seems like it uses a myriad of movement, dance, and yoga to

process emotions. Considering my background in dance and choreography, I can see where it can be really helpful. In fact, I vaguely remember that when I was studying at Laban, we had a dance therapy workshop and I remember feeling very cathartic after it. This particular dance therapy group didn't leave me with that feeling. It was unstructured, and I couldn't really see what I was supposed to do. It felt like I was just wiggling around. I enjoyed wiggling and moving to the music, so it did bring me joy, which is huge in a psych hospital. So while I didn't feel that same catharsis I did at Laban, it was nice to just move and find joy in the moment.

Postcard to my future self

Art Therapy: This type of therapy seems to use a wide variety of visual art mediums to create projects for processing emotions and goal setting. This one was pretty cool. At Carrier, we had to establish a goal for ourselves. We used magazines and cut out pictures and words to create a sort of vision board that we then put up in our rooms. We also shared them and why the goals were important to us. Mine was to use my talents (creative) to make a difference in my own life and in the world. A bit lofty, but I was also a bit manic, so that makes sense.

In this new hospital, we made postcards to ourselves or to someone else with something we always wanted to say. I didn't fully follow the prompt, but I did a bunch of musical quotes and other important ideas I wanted to keep in my mind. I didn't keep the vision board, but I've kept this postcard. It's going to be put in a prominent place so that I can look at it when needed.

In Conclusion: I really did enjoy the creative arts therapies. I felt they were fun, a great outlet, and a new way to explore healing instead of just through medication, and talk therapy.