Michael Angelakos of Passion Pit Launches Innovative Way to Fundraise for Mental Health

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Michael Angelakos of the band Passion Pit raises money all of the time, at least that’s what he says of being a performer nowadays. Between touring, merchandise and albums, Angelakos is always raising money for his art. Now, instead of making money to create more music, the singer wants to use his songs to fundraise for mental health.

In a talk, last Thursday at Mount Sinai’s Friedman Brain Institute in New York City, Angelakos, who lives with bipolar disorder, explained how he plans to use his musical talents and newly launched company, The Wishart Group, to fundraise for mental health initiatives.

“Feeling better means the science needs to be there,” Angelakos told The Mighty. “People need to see how that works, and it starts with science… and it instantly yields a need to raise money for clinical, and then that instantly yields a need to raise money for advocacy groups.”

To raise money for science, Angelakos is making his latest album, “Tremendous Sea of Love,” a test case for The Wishart Group’s first initiative. While The Wishart Group plans to launch and house a number of nonprofit and for-profit organizations, its first priority is building a nonprofit to work with and teach artists how to donate their intellectual property and revenue streams to initiatives and groups in need of funding. All royalties from “Tremendous Sea of Love,” which was digitally released on July 28, will go to the Stanley Center for Psychiatric Research at Broad Institute.

This isn’t the first time Angelakos has publicly advocated for mental health. In April, he live-streamed himself getting transcranial magnetic stimulation (TMS), which he uses in addition to electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) to treat his bipolar disorder. The video was taken down shortly after it was posted to Facebook, as TMS is not FDA-approved for bipolar disorder. 

“The whole point is like, everyone says, ‘Oh, I don’t want to show people what I do, I don’t want to talk about therapy.’ If we don’t talk about it, it’s quite literally why no one understands what we’re talking about,” Angelakos said in his video. “So, I don’t have anything to hide. I think this is an amazing treatment.”

In addition to donating the album’s proceeds, Angelakos dedicated it to “the people that spend their lives saving [his] life,” as well as those who work in the mental health community.

“I believe in the protection of advocates and first and foremost those around people with mental health issues,” Angelakos said. “We need to build systems that protect scientists, protect clinicians and protect advocates.”

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22 'Habits' of People With Depression and Anxiety

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When most people think of depression and anxiety, they probably think of the textbook definitions. You know, phrases like “loss of interest in daily activities” or “intense feelings of worry.” But we know those phrases barely scratch the surface of what our experience is really like. Aside from “classic” symptoms, there are so many different ways living with depression and anxiety affect people. There also may be some “habits” you developed as a “side effect” or a means of coping with depression and anxiety.

We asked the mental health Mighty community to share some “habits” they have developed because of their anxiety and depression. Here’s what they had to say:

1. “I’m a picker — my face, lips and recently my ear. I don’t even realize I’m doing it. Also I’m super jumpy.” — Meagan L.

2. “Not calling or keeping in touch out of fear they will tell me their own problems. Sounds selfish, but I then stress about not only my issues, but theirs as well. It’s too much!” — Tracy J.

3. “I can’t get out of bed till 11:30 a.m. or 12:00 p.m. I find it embarrassing to tell people my anxiety kept me up all hours of the night and I can’t wake up till I take my medication. My depression doesn’t provide me with restful sleep. I’m tired when I wake up.” — Rachel R.

4. “I have a tendency to be really quiet and not talk to people when I’m anxious. Some people notice and think I just don’t want to talk to them, but really it’s just my anxiety.” — Hailey L.

5. “Canceling plans last minute or making up a reason I can’t do something when I initially asked. I have a security blanket I’ve had for years. It is torn and ragged in certain places. People think it’s because it is old, but it’s really because I pick at it and fidget with it when I’m anxious or depressed. I’ve never been able to finish things. I have gone to school for several things, but have never made a career out of any of them due to my illnesses and fear of failure. I also pick at my nails or skin.” — Megan M.

6. “Going to the bathroom for a long amount of time, hiding away as you cry form a panic attack. Being depressed over small things each day.” — Lexi T.

7. “I stay on my phone a lot more than I should. It distracts me from thinking everyone is judging me and helps me avoid random eye contact.” — Megan B.

8. “There seems to be nothing I hate more on a day to day basis than hearing the phone ring. I literally cannot seem to answer any phone calls anymore, no matter who it is. I recently was reading about phone phobia, which helped me realize I’m not alone on this. I’m OK with texting and Facebook, but answering a phone call causes me massive anxiety.” — Omar R.

9. “I talk too much. I just ramble and say wrong words sometimes. That’s when my anxiety is pretty high. If the anxiety gets worse, I hide and withdraw.” — Rene R.

10. “Avoiding texts or calls because I just need time to myself. And then I feel too anxious messaging people back later knowing I ignored them, so I let things go till the next time I hear from them. Sometimes I don’t. It’s something I wish I could get past and knowing people have been inadvertently hurt by my anxiety and depressive moods is the single greatest source of regret I have.” — Brendan J.

11. “I take really long or frequent showers. Sometimes when my anxiety gets bad, I just start feeling itchy everywhere, everything bothers me. My hair touching my skin, the smallest little string on my clothing, dust, cat hair. I just can’t stand it so I go take a shower and just sit in there for sometimes up to 45 minutes, just feeling everything that was bothering me being washed away from my body.” — Jordan D.

12. “I just straight up zone out and I forget things so easily, but the worst is when I start panicking so bad I don’t recognize where I am.” — Lydia Q.

13. “Babbling, hair twirling, picking skin on fingers (subconscious stimming), rocking from foot to foot when in an uncomfortable social interaction or speaking publicly, doodling, snapping at people for seemingly no reason, being overly affectionate… Or the opposite… Not being able to explain the change, having a messy desk or car or not doing dishes because everything is too overwhelming.” — Kahli B.

14. “Talking really fast. Making it look like I’m nervous when in fact I just want to get it off my chest before I change my mind all together. Speaking up in meetings at work. People think I’m outgoing and love speaking in front of people when in fact I just want the validity that I’m doing something OK, the appreciation that I’m liked.” — Kylie M.

15. “Feeling stressful every time I text or have a texting conversation, and getting triggered when it gets stressful or the other starts making jokes. I just can’t handle trying to keep a conversation going on. Most of the time, I just want to avoid talking and texting and being alone.” — Minh C.

16. I count everything. I have my worry beads that have 18 beads on them. I’ll go to a building, and when I’m inside, I start to count the number of lamps and then calculate the number of tiles in the ceiling. When I’m really agitated, my family noticed that I’ll start fidgeting with my fingers. My journal is filled with numbers. When I’d take a bus, I’d note the time, the bus route number and the bus ID number. – Tracy B.

17. “Being on my phone and watching TV. Both are a distraction by themselves, but now I need them simultaneously to be OK.” – Kalene P

18. “I crochet all the time. It’s always in my hands. I bring it everywhere with me.
When I’m working on it, I don’t have to talk to people or at the very least, I don’t have to maintain eye contact.” — Sarah P.

19. “Walking around the same route. At work I can’t physically stay in one place. I have to keep moving. I don’t socialize with the other staff members and every time I try, I end up walking away and going for a wander on the same route around work.” – Carrie M.

20. “I can only eat about half of my meal at a restaurant. Any more than that and I start to feel sick and trapped. I eat the rest when I get home.” — Matthew T.

21. “Cleaning — and not just regular cleaning….cleaning with Q-Tips in nooks and crannies. It is something I can control when my anxiety is out of control.” — Ginny M.

21. “Procrastinating. I don’t want to seem too anxious to do anything because then I get my hopes up. Then I wait until the last minute and hate myself.” — Sabrina S.

22. “Anger. I can’t help it. When I get overwhelmed, I just get angry at everything. I also bite the insides of my jaw. It’s horrible and hate it.” — Jessica G.

What would you add?

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17 Disney Tattoos Inspired by Mental Health Journeys

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It’s no secret that Disney movies aren’t just for kids. With their relatable characters and messages of hope, you’d be hard pressed to find someone who does’t have a favorite Disney darling.

For many people living with mental illness, Disney movies are a source of comfort and support in recovery. Many people even carry these messages with them wherever they go — in the form of tattoos.

Whether your tattoo helps you “paint with all the colors of the wind” or “just keep swimming,” having a permanent reminder from your favorite Disney movie can be comforting in times when you’re struggling with your mental health. We wanted to know what kind of Disney tattoos people with mental illness have, so we asked members of our Mighty community to share a photo of a Disney tattoo they have inspired by their mental health journey.

Here’s what they shared with us:

1. “‘Frozen’ stuck with me because I really felt the parallels in Elsa’s story with my own. I got her to remember everything the movie said to me — it’s OK to be who I am, even with my own ‘darkness’ inside, letting it stay inside doesn’t do anyone any good. Love and compassion will lead you home.” — Josh B.

elsa tattoo

2. “I got this because of my battle with borderline personality disorder. It’s so fitting — one minute I know who I am, the next I have no clue of my identity.” — Shannon P.

alice tattoo

3. “I got this as a reminder that even when I tried to take my life and nearly died… my family is there. Any time my mental illness feels like it’s winning this reminds me I’m not alone.” — Katie E.

stitch tattoo

4. I have Jack and Sally on my hips. The movie has always motivated me to push through the darkness for my happiness like Jack did. Nobody thinks about it, but [I believe] he was depressed. He pushed through and found his happiness and his true love.” — Kristi T.

jack tattoo

5. I love my rose. It is OK to be ‘odd’ in the world’s view, and on my low days, it is good to have uplifting reminders to combat the negativity that drowns me.” — Carrie L.

tattoo

6. “[This tattoo is] a reminder not to let my anxiety and depression take over my life. Also, just like the film, you sometimes have to experience sadness along the way in order to experience joy.” — Lyndsey M.

inside out movie tattoo

7.This is the tattoo I got with my daughter’s name. It’s partially covering a scar from attempted suicide. She and her silliness like Minnie Mouse have helped me overcome so many hurdles. It’s a daily reminder I can be more than my depression, I can be a great mother to my Minnie daughter.” — Aspen E.

tattoo

8. “I have major depressive disorder and recurrent suicidal thoughts. It serves as a reminder that ‘adventure is out there’ and while my journey will take unexpected turns, something good will be waiting at the end. Tattooed skin discourages self-harm [for me].” — Sherrie J.

up tattoo

9. “My Pocahontas tattoo was the first part of my sleeve. The quote ‘choose your own path’ for me, means I can do just that, regardless of where I’ve come from, what I’ve been through and any mental health issues I may battle. I am the one who decides where I’m going, not my past or any mental health diagnosis.” — Jazmin F.

pochahontas tattoo

10.My tattoo not only helps with my depression, it’s also a memorial for my Mom. I first became suicidal after my Mom passed when I was 13. My family believes she visits as a hummingbird, and both on her birthday and anniversary of passing, I came across items with Flit represented. I knew then this was the tattoo I needed. When I’m stuck in my depression, and all I want is to talk to my Mom, this reminds me she is always with me.” — Tasha C.

tattoo

11. [This is] my Disney-themed semicolon. I’ve struggled with depression and anxiety over the years and despite being young still, I’ve lived through so much. I struggle to remember things will be OK and that I’m braver than I think and stronger than I know, but Disney has always reminded me if I look into my heart, I can find the courage and strength I need to keep fighting.” — Sarah O.

tattoo

12. “Eeyore’s been my favorite since I was a kid. Everyone accepts Eeyore for what he is and never tries to change him.” — Stephanie H.

eeyore tattoo

13. “[It’s] just a daily reminder to breathe when it all seems like too much and to live life with no worries.” — Jolyn T.

tattoo

14. “I [struggle with] severe depression and anxiety. At a young age of 10, I was already contemplating suicide. Until recently, I haven’t gotten proper help as I have always had my support with me: my dog. When she passed away, I was stuck facing everything without her and my world came crashing down. I hit a low I’ve never hit before. I started telling myself to ‘just keep swimming,’ like my girl did. Despite her health issues throughout her life, nothing could ever ever ever get her down. For such a small being, she had so much bravery. She could always succeed at keeping my spirits up, and although she couldn’t talk, she could give me support no one else could ever give me. I got this tattoo on my wrist where I could easily see it, with her actual paw prints to remind me to just keep swimming when I need support.” — Caitlin A.

paw tattoo

15. “I have four Disney tattoos but this one in particular never fails to make me smile even on my worst days. Disney is my escape when I’m having a major depressive episode. ‘Beauty and the Beast’ in particular grounds me when my mind gets away from me and I wouldn’t have been able to fight my illnesses without Disney.” — Ciara L.

chip tea cup tattoo

16. “It says ‘just keep swimming.’ My husband passed away recently, and it’s become one of my favorite tattoos as I try to swim without him.” — Grayce R.

just keep swimming tattoo

17. “I have struggled with anxiety ever since I was a child and have always connected with ‘The Lion King.’ I got this tattoo to remind myself during times I may be overwhelmed, I need to remember who I am and it will be OK.” — Sarabeth N.

lion king tattoo

Do you have a Disney tattoo?

 

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How a Horse Helped Me on My Path Toward Mental Health Recovery

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When I met Durango, a gray quarter horse, he was still learning. The first day we met, I entered his stall to groom him, but when I was done, he stood blocking the entrance of the door, and I couldn’t get out. I told him aloud to move. He didn’t. I insisted, and pushed his shoulder in an attempt to make him move. Nothing. No matter what I did, he would not bulge, and in the end my coach had to come over and use physical strength to get me out of the stall.

Needless to say, Durango didn’t leave a good impression on me at first. At the time, I didn’t know how to be assertive. I was small in size, not very strong, and lacked self-confidence. I felt like Durango sensed this. It seemed to me like he knew he could push me around and I wouldn’t know how to deal with it.

This is where our journey started.

When I started riding Durango, I was still a beginner rider myself. I was used to riding well-trained ponies with tons of years of schooling behind them, so riding a horse who had as much experience as me was completely new. It was a challenge, and a scary one. I was used to jumping over obstacles, but Durango hadn’t even learned how to jump yet. Perhaps that’s the reason I liked him in the first place: we were both beginners, we both had a lot to learn, and we were both stubborn as hell. Durango, unlike the other horses I’d ridden before, had flaws and a character. He sometimes gave me that “look” I came to recognize so well — it’s as if he was challenging me and whatever command I’d shouted at him.

I have fond memories of our first few months together. Durango stepped on my toes a lot. He would shake his head when I tried to put on his bridle, and he would canter around the arena without acknowledging my rein cues. He would, at times, randomly bolt, and I would find myself going around the arena shouting, “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Sometimes it worked. More often than not, it didn’t, so I had to jerk on my left rein and run him toward a fence for him to stop.

Not too long after that, I started resenting him. I was jealous of my friends whom I believed had better, well-behaved horses. Durango challenged every demand I made. Riding him, I often felt scared, small, and not very safe. I was sure that one day I would fall off and break my leg.

What’s interesting about horses is that they can smell and feel fear. Looking back, I now understand that Durango and I didn’t get along at first because I wasn’t confident enough. I was the rider, and I had the task to guide him. And yet I couldn’t be assertive, couldn’t give clear commands, and probably left him confused. So Durango did as he pleased.

I remember once we went on a trail ride and found ourselves in a big field. I tensed up immediately. I was overwhelmed with anxiety and with the fear that something would go wrong. I looked around, sensing threats, when in reality I was just scared of finding myself in a big, open space. As a result, Durango tensed up himself, and needless to say, the rest of the ride wasn’t very enjoyable.

Slowly, Durango and I began to learn from each other. We were equals and clueless on certain activities, but we nevertheless made some progress. I will never forget what it was like to get over that first jump. Even today, one of my proudest achievement remains having taught a 1,200-pound animal how to get over a jump.

The author and Durango the horse jumping over a bar

But it seemed like every step we took forward was followed by two steps backwards. I felt discouraged and wanted to give up. Durango raced towards jumps, then dodged them at the last minute, leaving me feeling unbalanced. He ignored my cues and never slowed down when I asked him to. I didn’t know it at the time, but Durango was teaching me how to cultivate resiliency in times of adversity. He was, in other words, teaching me not to give up.

Durango took no bullshit from me. At times, I screamed, cried, and threw things at him. But Durango would not listen to me until I asked him clearly what I needed and wanted from him. Temper tantrums, stamping my foot and crying led to nothing. Feeling confident, giving a specific command loudly and clearly, is what worked in the end.

Today, I believe Durango wanted me to stop being afraid. I believe he wanted me to have a sense of personal agency and he wanted me to feel empowered. Horses mirror your emotions and force you to observe and be mindful of your own body language, and for that reason I believe that Durango only started respecting me when I started to respect myself.

I can’t help but think that Durango helped me manage outside relationships as well as taught me interpersonal skills. To ensure my own safety, I had to set strong boundaries with this 1,200-pound animal. I had to stop allowing him to push me around, and I had to speak up, find my voice. In a way, I believe that Durango didn’t take my commands seriously until he knew that I meant business. Only then was he willing to listen.

Over the next few years, as Durango and I climbed training ladders, I felt more and more empowered while riding but also on the ground. Because I was responsible to take care of him, I had to honor my commitments. I had to be at the barn at a certain hour and I needed to give him exercise whether I felt like it or not. Taking care of another being gave me a sense of purpose, and also forced me to take care of my own needs. Like the saying goes, “You can’t pour from an empty bucket.” In a way, Durango taught me the importance of self-care.

And that’s the reason I quit riding a few months later, when I found myself in the midst of my first major depressive anymore. I simply couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t function and certainly couldn’t take care of myself, much less another living being. For that reason, I decided to take a few months off, and I trusted that Durango would be well-taken care of by those around me. Taking a break from riding Durango wasn’t easy. I was jealous, angry, and worried that other riders would make more progress with him in a few weeks than I had in a year. I was protective of Durango, and I didn’t want anyone else taking care of him. But I had no choice.

I know horses can’t speak to us, but I’d like to think Durango understood. I’d like to believe he knew what I was going through. And I’d like to think he missed me just as much as I missed him.

When I reunited with him, my heart burst with happiness. Durango helped relieve my depressive symptoms. Getting back into riding meant working on my fitness as well as physical symptoms (backache, cramped muscles, fatigue, etc.). As a result of horseback riding, my balance improved, my level of focus and concentration came back, and my muscles strengthened. Mucking stalls, setting obstacle courses, and carrying bales of hay also helped me get back into shape.

During those long summer months, I would sit beside Durango in the field while he grazed and tell him my problems. I treated him like my therapist. I poured my heart out to him and felt as if he listened to me.

More than once, Durango lifted his head and looked at me, sometimes even giving me a nudge, as if to say, “Hey, I’m here and I’m with you.” I gave him long hugs and rode him bareback in the field. The latter was a liberating, freeing and authentic experience of feeling connected to another being.

Fact: You can tell horses your secrets and they won’t judge or discriminate.

Durango was my best friend, my companion. He was there for me when none of the people around me could understand what I was going through. He helped me navigate those first few years of high school and my first mood episode. He was my rock, and with him I could cultivate my inner child.

I have fond memories of our many adventures; swimming in a lake, bathing him on hot summer days; setting up a tent in the field and sleeping near the horses; getting over a 3’6 fence for the first time; spending my allowance on brand new tack and blankets; and so on.

Durango and I had two wonderful show seasons together. I remember one time, I fell off and bit the dust in front of everybody. Lying on the ground, I was embarrassed, and all I wanted was to give up. But I didn’t, I couldn’t. I got up. And when I did, Durango stood right next to me.

Durango, thank you for being the most loyal friend I’ve ever have. Thank you for being attuned to every little detail, thank you for galloping towards me when I called your name. Thank you for making me feel lighter and happier. Thank you for being patient, responsive, intuitive and trustworthy. Thank you for allowing me to learn what horsemanship really means. Thank you for your friendship, all the life skills, and the unconditional love. I miss you every day.

The author and her horse Durango

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When Childhood Emotional Abuse Gets in the Way of Mental Health Recovery

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When I first started writing this piece a few weeks ago, I wasn’t sure whether or not I would be able to finish it. You see, I had just come to terms with the fact I grew up in an emotionally abusive environment and that it affects my everyday life and recovery. I struggle with addiction and anorexia. Both of which involve having to deal with emotions and set boundaries when trying to recover. Neither one of which I have much experience with.

I grew up in a house full of yelling and screaming and threats of abandonment. Where when I said I was hurt or upset, I was told I shouldn’t be. The only way I didn’t have my parents in my personal space was if I was never home. My parents’ way of dealing with me was saying, “no,” yelling and using empty threats. I got kicked out for the night when I got my first tattoo. But if you ask them about it, it never happened. There are a lot of times like that in my memories. And I am having to come to slowly accept that, to use old school family therapy terms, I ended up being “the lost child” in my family.

The problem is that now, I have to learn to accept I have feelings. And not only do I have feelings, but my feelings have value. And nobody can take that away from me. I have to learn if I stand up for myself and try and set a boundary, not everyone is going to threaten to leave. And if they do leave, I need to learn to be OK with that. Because now, these thought patterns are hurting my ability to recover. Because I am running. Running from feelings, running from people who I need to set boundaries with, running away from pain that may never actually come. Because I grew up never knowing what was around the corner.

I’m going into more intensive treatment soon. For me. For me to be able to discover the person who I can be once I process how my childhood affects me now. Because I can’t keep running. And neither can you. There is help out there. There are other childhood emotional abuse survivors. And the more we share our stories, the more we can heal.

If you or a loved one is affected by domestic violence or emotional abuse and need help, call The National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233.

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Thinkstock photo via Archv.

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How to Find Resilience When You Have a Mental Illness

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Resilience, to me, feels like trying to hold on to a blow-up rubber ring in the middle of an ocean. You know… that ring you use when you go on holiday? The prime position is placing your backside in the middle, your legs hanging over the side, sunglasses on and a bottle of beer in hand. That’s the dream.

Last year, when I had my “mental breakdown,” my rubber ring burst and I was thrown into the ocean, at the mercy of the great swells, crashing waves and ever-unpredictable weather. Drowning. Gasping for air. A resilience deficit.

More recently, I’ve acquired a new rubber ring — a new, better rubber ring. I’m just struggling to get myself into the prime position… or in any position, really. I feel I’m mostly holding on to the side and sometimes I get as far as getting my head in the middle but I can’t yet pull my arms through to hoist myself up. This makes for surviving sizable waves all the more difficult, and frankly, tiring.

In these moments, it’s all about employing strategies that will help you ride the waves until you’re able to get on top of your rubber ring and later grab your beer. Strategies that will help you stay there.

1. Know your limits.

Don’t try to do a handstand when you can’t even get on the ring in the first place. More commonly referred to as: “Don’t run before you can walk.” Especially when life is returning to some form of normality, it is natural to want to pick up everything you used to do all at once (or at least that’s what I’ve found myself doing). In order to stay a float and stay holding on to the rubber ring, these things need to come with time. It’s about putting on your oxygen mask before assisting other people with theirs. It’s about putting in boundaries and not only guarding but prioritizing your self-care. Know when to say yes and when to say no. Never say yes if this means you have to let go of your own rubber ring. You need your resilience. You need your oxygen mask. You need your ring.

2, Seek support

Obvious, I know. I’m not trying to reinvent the wheel — bear with me. When I’m struggling, my default is to isolate myself which is possibly one of the worse things I could do — struggling to hold on in the stormy seas all on my own. I’d like to think I have improved at reaching out, though there are still times where I completely shut down, hide and become uncommunicative. Simply messaging someone and revealing that you’re less than OK is enough. I know I’ve got a particularly difficult week coming up and pre-empting that, I’ve moved in with friends until the weekend. So when the big waves hit, I’m not alone in it all. Yes for forward planning!

3. Take medication as prescribed

Since my hospital admission, I now have PRN medication. What’s a PRN when it’s at home? Well, Google just enlightened me that PRN stands for “pro re nata,” which is a Latin phrase for “as the circumstances arises,” which in medical speak means “use when necessary.” In Trevor speak, PRN means when you’re absolutely up a height/in distress/very anxious/not coping – take the damn pill. It helps. For me, popping it feels like a last resort, but I have been told I am holding out too long before taking it. I admit I’m not the biggest fan of meds, but at the end of the day they are there to help. For the most part, they do.

4. Peer support

Chatting to other folk who are also struggling to climb on their rubber ring can be really helpful. They can give you tips, tricks and offer that all-important “me too” affirming head nod. This month, I’ll be embarking on a 10-week group therapy adventure called “The Resilience Program.” This is the program’s maiden voyage, designed and delivered by psychologists, tailored for people who have experienced childhood trauma and have post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) symptoms. We’ll be covering mindfulness, self-compassion and acceptance, and commitment therapy. I’m feeling pretty optimistic about it and hope the group supports my continued recovery and maybe even helps me get my backside into my ring. The beer can come later.

“You can’t stop the waves, but you can learn to surf.” — Kabat-Zinn

Originally published on the author’s blog.

Thinkstock photo via WILLSIE

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