Mental Health Issues TAG

I’m so excited, you guys, GWAH! Gosh, this blog is so very me, already, ahaha.

Any who, I have found a mental health issues/mental illness tag from (oh god, how do I link things again? *sobs*) Becca’s mental illness tag Sweet!

Okay, I’m gonna reign in my mood, now. Focus self, focus. Let’s go!

  1. What mental illness do you have? I live with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder or OCD on self-harm and suicide obsessions and I also live with secondary depression….That came off the OCD, those damn neighbors!
  2. When were you diagnosed? If you wind up following my blog, you’ll be reading this information a LOT in the time that I’m active. *nods* I was diagnosed by my counseling center at university fall of 2014 with OCD. I was diagnosed officially with secondary depression at my first hospitalization at the end of January 2015, but it was definitely there for a good month, into the end of December even, before then.
  3. Who knows about it? Who doesn’t would be a better question, ahaha. Genuinely though, I’ve become very open and honest about it. There are some people who don’t know like within extended family, but I’ve been open to many friends, even professors, the UMB community (writing about it in the paper for instance), the DA community and already on here as well. Leaving a trail of me everywhere…with pixie dust in particular. That’d be fancy!
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IOS saying ‘Live to Love Life’. And yes, there is a note in the journal in the background that I needed to use the restroom. You’re welcome.

4. Do you receive treatment for it? I do, indeed! Don’t know where I’d be without it, actually :/ I’ve gone down to seeing my therapist once a week (although my recent lapse offered twice a week appointments but I’m doing well again now so I’m still just doing once a week). I also take 200mg of Zoloft and 6mg of Abilify. Treatment like exposure and response prevention (ERP) and DBT and mindfulness have been very, very helpful for me. =]

5. Has your mental illness stopped you from doing anything? Yes. That’s the shortest answer. During 2015 it stopped me from enjoying life and wanting to live. It caused me to override my values and act on thoughts about hurting myself and acting out in ways that I only ever feared before. It stopped me from attending classes in the spring of 2015, from studying and getting academic work done. It really ate up my life in one big gulp, but I put the OCD back in its place, punching it in the face repeatedly until IT was the one breaking down and bleeding. It’s actually a little graphic, but it feels sooooo soooo good. Some days are still difficult, and it may take a little more from me, but I know more now that if it gets anywhere near that dark point again, to pack my bags and head into the hospital. There is nothing wrong with getting help. It’s arguably the most logical thing to do in this illogical swirl of madness. Okay, I’ll stop on this question. ^^;

6. Is there anything in particular that has helped you? Dear god, yes. Art has been a huge part of my recovery. I started drawing again in February 2015 and that has led me to painting in the fall of 2015 and now watercoloring in 2016. Painting and watercoloring in particular require a great deal of attention and focus for me and that helps exponentially when I need to cognitively refocus my attention away from the OCD’s stupidity to something I actually care about. Reading has also been wonderful to do again, too. I have a bunch of books out from the library as we speak and reading on here is certainly a thing as well! DBT or dialectical behavior therapy taught me many things about positive coping strategies and better emotional regulation. I learned a lot from mindfulness techniques and grounding techniques. Again, I could talk about this for ages.

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Part of my identity, that I am not afraid to tell my therapist, or anyone, who will listen. It’s true, after all! Scrapbook page.

7. Can you describe what it feels like to have your mental illness? Well, that’s a little tricky. But I’ll do my best for a short stint of time, which will be quite a bit of an exposure. For instance, you see, when I was identifying as the OCD, the depression and the suicidality, I was often talking, writing or making art about them…until I found out that doing so is actually a compulsion of mine. So then I was meant and told to focus on glorifying life and recovery and talking about that rather than the nitty gritty details. But I think this is a good opportunity to show the different sides of OCD, so I will take up this challenge briefly.

Because I only really developed the OCD when I was 21, I had years of prior lack of OCD experience. I had to get used to getting stuck on thoughts, like, we all have thoughts and sometimes thoughts are unicorns shitting rainbows. But OCD is when it’s like: unicorns shitting rainbows unicorns shitting rainbows unicorns shitting rainbows unic- unic- unic. It’s this constant repetitive cycle with thoughts dipped in like Oh, are you sure? Do you need to check? Maybe we should check? There may be frequent doubt and second guessing going on.

In my case, with the self-harm and suicide obsessions I had a lot of thoughts like ‘Kill yourself. You should just kill yourself. Nobody would know. Just think how much better you’ll feel when you’re slowly suffocating? Jump off ____. You were meant to die by suicide. It’s your calling. Just do it. Why can’t you do it? What the hell is wrong with you? You’re so pathetic, so weak. You don’t have the ___ to do it. What if I want to kill myself and I’m just pretending that I don’t? What if I’m already dead? I’m not, am I? I mean, I don’t think I am…or am I? Crap.’

Unfortunately the OCD has led to a lot of glorification of the acts of suicide and self-harm. Which can make it more difficult for me when I’m dealing with more of the OCD, but especially so when I also start feeling depressed. Not a good combo that’s for sure.

8. What is a common misconception about your mental illness?
“Oh, so you’re a hand washer? Are you really organized? Oh yeah, I’m like that too, I can’t stand it when my M&M’s are in the wrong order. Gosh, I am like soooo OCD.”

“Yeah, I have that too, but it’s no big deal. These balloons are so OCD.”

“Oh, so you’re suicidal? I’ve felt like that too….”

*excuse me while I spontaneously combust in anger*

9. What do you find the most difficult to deal with? The relentless cruelty of the OCD when I’m having a bad day or a difficult time. It feels like living 2015’s dark times all over again. And I don’t know if I’ll make it out alive. =(

10. Do you have anything else you’d like to say? Well, I hope I answered these sufficiently and without getting too sidetracked. :3 I also want to say that Recovery IS possible, that it does get better, that you can get through this difficult time and I know that you can. I believe in you, even if you may be struggling right this very minute. The fact that you are reading this right now is a sign that some part of you inside wants to get better. Allow that part to flourish, water it, take care of it, and one day, too, you may be on this side of recovery where you’re sharing your story and inspiring others with what you’ve gone through (if that’s what you want to do). Stay safe. ❤

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I hope this post helps someone out there, if at all!! I hope I don’t sound too cranky anywhere, hehe, I got a little bold in a few places ^^; I wish you all a good day and to feel well again, soon. ❤ Take care!!

 

 

OCD and Identity | Article S16

I was in my therapist’s office with the print outs of the poem I wrote as my suicide note and the online journals I had posted about my suicidal thoughts.

My therapist looked at me with concern etched into her features and stated how I was identifying as the OCD, as the depression, and as someone who was suicidal.

“It’s as though the OCD has become your identity, as though you are nothing more than a blob of suicidal ideation just passing through the halls. It’s as though you are a suicide waiting to happen.”

I blinked and thought, well of course, what else was I?

And the answer, of course, is a whole lot more.

Identity is a concept we all come to terms with through adolescence, our twenties and beyond. It can interrelate with our values, those items we hold close to our core self. Identity is described as the adjectives that make up who we are. They are not our roles per se, so not words like student, friend, or son. They are more like: creative, artistic, musically inclined, talented, rock climber, etc. What activities we enjoy to our favorite color to our preference over polka dots versus stripes all makes up our identity.

For anyone struggling with an illness, physical or mental, identity can play a vital role in how a person understands themselves and the perception of their world. Such illnesses can be viewed separately from the individual or as an integral part of one’s identity–it depends on whether the person feels empowered or trapped. I know of friends who have struggled with mental health issues during their teenage years, and as they grew older, weren’t sure who they were without their diagnosis. This type of identity crisis can be damaging.

That’s also the type of dysfunctional identity I struggled with in terms of the OCD. My symptoms began slowly and gradually from the time I entered college at nineteen. They peaked briefly in the fall of 2013, but for a year, I didn’t know that that experience had any deeper meaning attached to it. Having hit a wall that semester with crippling procrastination, I began 2014 as a new me: better, stronger, and capable of organizing all the things!

By fall 2014 the layout of the OCD was anxiety provoking: I’d have an intrusive or obsessive thought about killing myself, which would lead me to reassurance seeking online about the differences between suicide obsessions and genuine suicidal thoughts, which would make me feel better temporarily until the doubt inevitably came back and I’d have to repeat the process all over again. Either that, or sometimes I’d be so convinced I’d hurt myself that I’d have to pull over from driving home and call a suicide prevention hotline because I couldn’t be sure I’d keep myself safe (and at this point in time I was not a danger to myself). I slowly withdrew into my mind, preferring to hang out with the OCD because of its seemingly innocent and comforting presence. I lost interest in photography and my management of the Photography Club deeply suffered as a result from my lack of appearance.

I initially turned to self-harm for the first time in my life as a way of punishing myself for having the OCD. This got worse over the winter break. Myself and many others around me both thought the break would be good for me, no more deadlines and less stress, but it turned out that secondary depression had a whole other idea in store for me.

When the depression kicked in, I no longer had that anxiety loop on repeat. This sounds spectacular except I only ever felt apathetic, numb or severely sad. And because I no longer felt the anxiety at the thought of suicide, and I couldn’t feel much of anything at all, I found my risk barometer was broken. I could do anything! No longer was there anxiety about whether I’d be possibly injured or not. Instead, everything in life was game for me. This created the compulsion of acting on my thoughts of self-harm and suicide, where my brain would tell me that if I just did what the OCD said everything would be better.

By this point in time, I became a genuine danger to myself. The OCD gave me so many ideas of ways to hurt myself that instead of being afraid of them I felt excited. I felt powerful to be the person having the answers to whether or not I’d kill myself. I could control how much I told my treatment providers and that power felt very good. My mind glorified suicide to a degree of fantasy, leading me to become a suicidal blob guided by the taunts of the OCD that the only way I could prove I was serious about my thoughts were to act on them.

Luckily, this stark error in my thinking became clearer to me as I moved through treatment. With time, I began to understand that I didn’t need to prove anything, and no one certainly wanted me to kill myself. I began to understand when my experiences were serious and required immediate medical intervention. I cataloged dozens of positive, effective coping strategies as I moved through hospitalizations and medications began taking effect. I began having less crises and the reshaping of my identity opened up my world to the idea of recovery and forging meaning from my experience.

The world became brighter and returned gradually to its casual appearance. Over the course of many months, I stopped seeing the world as potential means to my death. Campus became just campus again. I can walk by train tracks, maybe with the intrusive image of jumping on them, but without the desire (most days) of all of me to act on that thought. I’m becoming safer and kinder to myself, reaching for pens to draw with rather than hurting myself.

It is still mind boggling that I’ve undergone such a transformation in my identity from where I had been in the first six months of 2015. The beginning excerpt of me in my therapist’s office occurred at the very start of June 2015.
It was the first time I was told I was identifying as the OCD that was plaguing my life. This new revelation continued to follow me into my third hospitalization.

There, in the black composition notebook they had given me, they instructed me to write the sentence I was so used to expressing: “My OCD.”
Next, they said, cross out “my.”
Now write “the.”

What a metamorphosis a word makes.
From that seedling of thought I went on a journey from identifying as my experiences to separating who I am (really and truly) from any diagnosis I may have.

When this new information about identity settled into me over the course of a couple of days, I was able to connect the experience to one in my adolescence of identifying as scoliosis. It became clearer then, that when I was diagnosed with the OCD that I took that diagnosis on as my identity, just as I had done with the scoliosis years prior.

Nowadays, my identity is shaping farther from the OCD. I remind myself that I’m a junior year psychology major. I’m in love with gazebos, the woods, nature of all kinds (I don’t enjoy all the bugs though). The bugs I do like include butterflies, dragonflies, lady bugs, Western conifer seed bugs and tan jumping spiders. I love concepts about time, pocket watches, clocks in general and eternity. Snow, raindrops, bokeh, and ice are life, by the way. My soul is the color of a sparkling rainbow with a bright white light that causes traffic accidents worldwide. I love creating such a variety of artwork that one day I’ll run out of fingers to count them all on!

I still acknowledge the OCD as a small part of myself, and I still have to watch out for my motivations about discussing it (because talking about it and expressing it through artwork I came to be told is a compulsion). I even struggled with writing this article, believe it or not! This final installment came around only by the fourth attempt.  With more time I imagine the process will get easier. And now I’m finding that I can feel powerful by telling my story, which feels far better than before. After all, my life is too interesting of a story to end in the middle of it.


Mass Media Article #3. Written March 30, 31 and April 1.2016

Recovery Lighthouse | Article S16

Recovery: The value of which I, and many others, work towards that guides us to mental wellness and brighter days.

Recovery is a complex, beautiful, annoying, difficult and rewarding journey that is defined differently by each person who embarks on its marvelous process.

While unique to each individual, recovery does have some commonalities.

1. Recovery is not a linear process. It’d be freakin’ amazing if it was (and I would be totally down for that) but it is not, and so moving forward in recovery requires recognizing the journey will have its rough spots. Some days are better than others, and some times are worse to bear. Recovery is more like a jagged high and low mountain range.

2. A relapse and a lapse are two different things. If I lapse in my recovery from self-harm, it means “Oh shoot, I made a mistake and that sucks but I’m going to stick back to recovery and continue moving forwards.” A relapse, however, is depicted more as “Well, damn, here I go all over again. Screw it; I might as well keep on self-harming!”

3. Relapses and lapses are a part of recovery. Remember, recovery is not a linear process. A person may go through setbacks before they nail being the awesome captain of their ship, able to steer (almost) flawlessly around threatening rocks and getting through the eye of the storm with their crew intact–and setbacks are okay because that’s how we learn.

These are essentially the basics of recovery. And, because I’m the one writing this article, let me share with you my experiences thus far about this matter.

I still am unclear on how I define my own recovery. It’s a difficult question to answer succinctly with purpose and accuracy. Yet, I suppose for me that may be the right depiction for the start of my recovery. It was murky and unclear and filled with unknowns and lack of expectations.

I know recovery to me means living with the obsessive compulsive disorder. In case you didn’t already know, I live with OCD on self-harm and suicide obsessions. The quick version of this is that I deal with intrusive thoughts about hurting myself and depressive thoughts of hurting myself. The OCD and the secondary depression enjoy singing carols of my utter doom in my mind, is really what I’m saying here (and yes, that’s a joke. Feel free to laugh. Humor is a good coping strategy).

Particularly, my recovery is about living with the OCD. I repeat that because it is important to me. Living with the OCD means that I take back my life and do all that I want to achieve, while also, yes, acknowledging the presence of the OCD and how it affects my life.

It means stepping away from identifying as the OCD and stepping away from the glorified pseudo comfort the OCD and depression can give me.

It means sometimes when I just want to curl into the fetal position and not move for several hours, a part of me makes myself get up and go open up that textbook to read instead. Or, if I do lay in that fetal position, I bring some tunes along with me so it’s not as lonely.

This part of my recovery definition is essential and also overwhelming. Living with the OCD means I have to live with the OCD. It means I don’t get to act out on compulsions of scratching myself. Which is wonderful, of course, don’t get me wrong, but when the struggles peak for me, a part of me just wants nothing more than to hurt myself.

Except, I’ve learned that that compulsion is a lie. That rather than it taking away the thoughts, it just makes them come back tenfold. And somehow, this knowledge makes the situation feel worse.

My recovery journey began around March 2015. After my second hospitalization let out, I finally got a psychiatrist and began taking a different round of medications.

I wore a rubber band on my sleeve because my therapist mentioned it could be used as a visual deterrent from my self-harm. It was a reminder that I would see before I acted on my thoughts, and would serve as a barrier for me to consider my next choice of action. I would write, “Stay Safe,” on my wrists in pen because that phrase gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling inside and I knew I could use it as a prevention tactic from scratching myself.
I remember the moment I realized I had begun the journey of recovery. I was walking about in McCormack and was thinking about sitting on a ledge when I found a part of my internal self cringing as I thought, “But, what does that mean?” It was then that I knew both my psychiatrist and therapist would be displeased to find out (when I inevitably told them) that I had gone outside to sit on a ledge in a suicidal state of mind rather than coping positively and effectively by any other number of actions. It was my capability of weighing that future predicament that I hadn’t been able to muster within myself for four months.

Speaking of that duration of time, I lasted nearly four months before I relapsed with self-harm at the end of June and beginning of July. On July 2nd 2015 I began my current recovery milestone. My goal is to make it to a year clean. I’m holding myself to that (I will mention that I did lapse once during this current stint) and may set myself to looser standards after I make it past a year. But for now, that is my main motivation, the time it’s been since I last self-harmed and how I could make it all those days and can make it many more days from now, too.

Additionally, I’m still in the process of coming to terms with my recovery being a jagged mountain range. A part of my journey involves feeling the two different parts of me at the same time. I can be proud of myself for not acting on my thoughts, and I can also be extremely enraged that I’m not acting on those same thoughts. Sometimes a part of me doesn’t want to be self-harm free. Sometimes I consider acting on those thoughts of suicide again.

Yet as of right now, I know my true values don’t align with the OCD. I know that I cannot act on both the suicidal thoughts and be alive to tell my story. Life just doesn’t work that way. I know the OCD is filled to the brim with bullshit and lies that just aren’t any reflection of reality. Despite knowing this, it doesn’t make the venom in its words hurt any less. And it doesn’t make my pain any less real.

Still, however, recovery is possible. Maybe the OCD will change topics one day. Maybe I’ll wrestle better with its claws and sharp teeth, and maybe I’ll learn to dance with it more than I am struggling against it. For now, that part of the story hasn’t been written. I tend to think I’m still a novice at my own mental health experience, having been through the desperation and recovery within the same year.

I’m not sure where my mind has plans to take me, but I know much more now that if I don’t like where it’s going I can change the map, and if I want to head in its direction, that choice is up to me as well. I like to remind myself that I have choices and that I have options. Recovery is my stepping stone to a better day that’s ahead. Recovery is the lighthouse through which the beams are peeking through the storm clouds. Recovery is sharing my story and bringing meaning and purpose into my life where a year ago I struggled to find them. Recovery is that beautiful, annoying, bittersweet, amazing journey that I both hate that I’m already on and love that I am on it so soon. Recovery is unique and special to each of us.

May you look forwards to the brighter day coming your way. Stay safe.


My second article for the Mass Media, all about recovery. =] Written back on March 29th and 30th 2016.

Of Inner Strength Unimaginable

Underestimate: To estimate something to be less important than it is.

Hmmm, what do I have to say about this topic?

Well, what comes to mind when I see this word is how I’ve underestimated my ability to bounce back from mental health issues and plow into recovery (imagine a grand arm gesture here, because I just made it but you couldn’t see it).

I imagine you don’t already know, I haven’t mentioned it yet after all, so let me fill you in. :]

I was diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder back in the fall 2014 semester in my junior year at university. The diagnosis was news to me, since I hadn’t known I was dealing with any illness!

Through the winter break of that year, I developed secondary depression which really kicked up the intensity of the suicidal obsessions and thoughts that I was having (I should mention, the OCD I deal with is on self-harm and suicide obsessions). I entered 2015 with the notion that I was going to kill myself before I ever saw, well, anything in the future.

By March 2015 I began my recovery journey. It came after two hospitalizations where in my second one, I finally gained a psychiatrist. This was wonderful news, after all. I began taking Zoloft which gradually increased in dosage until about June 2015.

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A drawing of a strengthening tree hand holding onto hope. =]

But for the time between January and March, I wasn’t set on recovery. I felt a negative sense of power when it came to being the one with the answers. When people would look at me and express their worry and concern, I was so far out of whack with my emotions and my apathy that I would be confused and unable to understand their worry. To me, suicide became like talking about the weather. It was no big deal, I mean, I was only trying to kill myself after all. No biggie. Nothing to worry about.

Even when I started medications I was worried that it would make the OCD go away. And, unbeknownst to me at the time, I was strongly identifying as the OCD, the depression and the suicidality. Without OCD, what was I? I didn’t have the answer to that.

I was so convinced that I was meant to die by suicide that I secretly viewed everything I did as my final actions. If I said a compliment to someone on the train, it meant more because I’d think about how that would be the last thing I ever said to them, and they might find out about my death on the news one day. If I made a present for a friend, I felt it would ease the pain they’d feel when I was ultimately pronounced dead.

And, this wasn’t just a one time thought process. I lived 2015 with the notion that I was not going to see the new year. Even when I got a new therapist at the middle of February, I was convinced that I’d kill myself the next time the ‘opportunity’ presented itself.

In a twisted way, it’s what got me through that difficult time. If I just kept thinking and believing I’d be dead, I wouldn’t have to focus so much on how shitty of a time it was. That notion helped bridge me to when I was strong enough to accept recovery into my life. And that was brought on by a therapist who asked me, whether or not I wanted to get better or not. I hadn’t expected the question but I answered honestly, “Part of me wants to and part of me doesn’t.” And they told me, that because I was actively in treatment, I had to see it through. It was a very enlightening experience, and I’m glad most days that I decided to begin the process of recovery then.

Recovery began as writing ‘Stay Safe’ on my wrists. Recovery began as wearing a rubber band on the outside of my sleeves to serve as a deterrent before I acted on scratching myself. Recovery began with finding positive and inspiring music to listen to when I was going through crises. Recovery began with choosing to Live.

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From a photo shoot I did on campus one day in April 2015. You can see the tips of more color, where I had up and down my left arm, dozens of phrases and words to help get my mind off the shit in my head.

As the weeks went on, I finally knew when I had set my path to Recovery: There was a day on campus where I wanted to sit outside on a ledge, but I found myself asking “But…what does that MEAN?” And I knew then, that my treatment providers would not be happy with me if I told them that I went outside to sit on a ledge rather than asking for help or coping positively. So instead, I coped positively.

Although I set my path to recovery, that doesn’t mean it was always easy or that I didn’t slip up–with either a lapse or a relapse. In fact, I got my third hospitalization in June 2015, and I relapsed after being nearly 4 months clean from self-harm at the end of June.

But from there, and from July 2nd 2015, I began recovery again. So far, that’s been my longest stint free from repetitive self-harm, even including my 3 lapses. Before I went into the OCD-Institute in November 2015, I considered heading back to a partial hospitalization or even going into the psychiatric ward again because I was beginning to feel unsafe again. Luckily, I got the call that I’d be admitted in a week, and that news helped turn my whole world around.

In treatment there, I learned how to experience my emotions again, the feelings of a crisis, without having to act on them. What a sense of freedom and liberation that was. It was an epiphany that I could feel desperate, feel depressed, feel anxious, yet I didn’t have to act on anything beyond those feelings or thoughts.

I continued drawing from an art therapy core, where you draw mindfully without judgment of whether the piece is ‘good’ or ‘bad’. The piece just is. And it’s about the process of it, not the product. I even began painting while I was at the OCD-I, most of which the work I have from there is on my walls now or sliding off of them, ahaha.

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This piece says “I believe in a better tomorrow” highly influenced from the song linked above. Music is a huge part of my recovery and I’ve infused much of the songs I’ve heard into my artwork and into my journey. Painted November 18.2015

After my 5 weeks there, I was released into the world again, where I blearily waited until the new spring semester began. I still had trouble when I was in the spring semester, but transforming into a mental health activist within a month deeply helped infuse more strength and power into my recovery.

In March 2016 I was trained as a NAMI In Our Own Voice presenter where we travel across Massachusetts sharing our mental health experiences with a wide variety of audiences. In the fall 2016 semester, I will be a part of restarting the Active Minds chapter at UMB. I have also become a contributing writer to the Mass Media, our school newspaper, about mental health and my own experiences with it. And finally, those experiences have led me to creating this blog itself. Using yet another outlet on this big, wide web, to promote recovery and positive coping strategies and my journey through the thick and thin.

I haven’t always been Responsible Raquel, but with a recent lapse I’ve had this month, I’m finding that Resentful Raquel really isn’t as great as I thought she was. Responsible Raquel is far more awesome than I gave her credit for.

Becoming a mental health activist gave me the feeling of positive power. Where I can empower myself and hopefully others, to get help, share their stories, or just be comforted by the notion that recovery IS possible and better days can come into their lives again.

So, while struggling Raquel underestimated the power and beauty of Responsible Raquel and Recovery Raquel, now I get to live in all the hope and inspiration today. And I get to surround myself with all that I’ve learned and grown and have become stronger in and by.

Although a mental illness isn’t something I chose to have, I can say that oddly enough it’s brought me more opportunities in life than I could have had otherwise. In my journey, I’ve come to identify who I am separate from any diagnosis. I’ve come to more often be my true, authentic self in all my glory. And, I’ve come to taking more opportunities to learn and build my resume than I ever had prior to these trials.

Going through these difficult times has brought me a new understanding and compassion to those who also suffer from mental health issues. And, honestly, I wouldn’t take that back if I had the chance. I quite like this newly budding self, and that self should reallllllly be studying for finals, so, that marks the end of this post!

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I hope you enjoyed it. Stay safe, my friends. ❤ If you’ve underestimated your power and inner strength before, take some time today to remind yourself of how amazing, beautiful, inspiring and fantastic it is to be you. Take care!

 

(In response to: Underestimate Daily Prompt)

I so don’t know how to link to the daily prompt post. T_T I think I got it, yay!