Are you struggling to do things that were previously effortless? From eating breakfast to sending a text message, does everything seem impossible? Before you label yourself lazy or incapable, know this: it's not you; when everything seems impossible, it's depression.
Living with the intensity of borderline personality disorder (BPD) feelings used to make me feel crazy. I could feel so sure someone was going to leave me, only to find out later there was nothing to worry about. For most of my life, I struggled to control my painful and embarrassing emotions. It wasn't until I started accepting my perception as truth that I began to feel more in control.
A couple of years ago, I was in your place: anxious, nervous, and extremely stressed out for my very first therapy session. Countless questions were running through my mind, like, "Will my therapist judge me?", "Will they understand where I'm coming from?", "What will happen in the first session?", and "Will my therapist think my concerns are stupid?" Being anxious about your first therapy session is normal. As someone who grew up surrounded by people who thought that therapy was for "crazy people," I was extremely clueless about therapy and didn't know what to expect.
Do you ever feel like you never do anything right? I do. My baseline is feeling that everything I do is wrong to the point that feeling like I’m doing something right is a rarity. Anxiety keeps running questions in the back of my mind, whether I’m making the right decision, saying the right words, or doing the right thing.
I’ve mentioned before that I wanted to see a dietician/nutritionist. The reason is that I want to lose weight to take pressure off of my arthritic knees. I was supposed to go at the end of May, but the doctor had an emergency, so she couldn’t see clients on the day of my appointment. My husband, Tom, and I went in to see her on June 16. Here’s how it went and how it’s going.
Is self-harm a sin? Whatever you believe in life, if you've asked yourself this question (or one like it) before, know that you're not alone.
As a victim of verbal abuse, I've slowly realized that I may never be totally free of the aftereffects of verbal abuse. Although I can spend hours, weeks, and years in therapy, there will always be a small part of it that is meshed inside my mind. I can use all the helpful tips and tricks my therapist gives me to handle that nagging voice I hear from my past, but it often doesn't work on my bad days.
In 2022, the potential for overstimulation is real, from phones to smartwatches and everything in between. Even now, as I type away on my laptop, I can't help but ponder the previous eight hours I spent staring at an almost identical screen. I'm not naive. I know that technology--and the no doubt plethora of benefits we reap from it--is an integral part of our daily lives. I'm no technology shunner; I'm simply a mental health enthusiast.
I've been writing for HealthyPlace for about six months now. I've written numerous articles about dealing with low self-esteem and how to improve it. However, I've been thinking about my process and realized that while I may be able to identify low self-esteem, that doesn't mean everyone can. Today, I'd like to take a different approach to identifying low self-esteem. I'll write this post from my viewpoint as I figure out my self-esteem.
I have permission to enjoy food. As obvious as this sounds, it's one of the most impactful realizations I've come to learn in eating disorder recovery. In the darkest seasons of my illness, I believed that showing a preference for any food at all was a sign of weakness. I would not allow myself to acknowledge pleasure in the flavors or textures of anything I ate. Food was purely utilitarian back then—I consumed just enough to stay alive and placate the concerns of those around me. But the more I heal, the more I learn that food is a source of nourishment and enjoyment. So I can grant myself permission to experience both.