Five Ways We Can Better Understand Our Mental Health Symptoms

Earlier this week on the blog, I wrote about understanding symptoms. When it comes to mental illness, many symptoms are easy to see or understand. However, many symptoms also feel impossible to see in ourselves or others. A symptom of depression for one person might not exist for someone else, but both of these people could experience depression. Mental health is complex, and understanding our symptoms (however they look) is a big step on the path toward mental wellness. Today, I want to look at five ways we can work toward better understanding our symptoms.

Do your research – but take it with a grain of salt

Before we get ahead of ourselves, let’s be honest. The Internet is a big place, and not everything you find here is going to be helpful. The more that mental health has worked its way into mainstream conversation, the more likely there will be disinformation or misinformation about it. On the flip side, researching depression and anxiety on my own terms has been one of the most helpful ways of understanding my diagnoses. Researching symptoms is a good way to understand things more, but it’s important to take everything you read with a grain of salt until you talk with a professional. Which leads me to the second point…

Talk with a mental health professional

If you’re experiencing symptoms where your physical health is impacted, you see a doctor. Why would it be any different for mental health? Talking to a mental health professional is a good first step to get the help you need. And if you think that means immediately seeing a therapist or psychiatrist, that’s not always the case. There are many types of mental health professionals who can provide valuable insight, and reaching out to someone you feel comfortable talking with is the most important criteria.

Understand mental symptoms and physical symptoms

As I mentioned in my post earlier this week, symptoms of mental illness can manifest themselves mentally and physically. It took time, but I’ve learned the difference between mental and physical symptoms. I’ve learned to recognize symptoms within myself, and figure out if my symptoms are recurring. It’s important to understand what these symptoms are, but it’s more important to know what they are for you. Understanding how my symptoms impact me is one of the most valuable things I’ve learned when it comes to mental health.

Know the difference between acute and chronic illness

For a long time, my symptoms came and went without any further understanding and introspection about them. Learning the difference between acute symptoms and chronic conditions has been very helpful for my long-term mental health. According to the National Council on Aging, acute illnesses “generally develop suddenly and last a short time, often only a few days or weeks,” while chronic conditions “develop slowly and may worse over an extended period of time – months to years.” Once I could start defining my symptoms as acute or chronic, I could better learn how to deal with them.

Take things day by day

This last bit of advice sounds a little cliche but it’s something I come back to time and again. For a long time, my only reaction to a new aspect of my depression and anxiety was fear. I was afraid of learning about new symptoms because I assumed I’d have to deal with them every single day. I’ve since learned that this isn’t the case; a symptom that might be challenging one day might not show up the next. Learning to take things as they come has taught me a lot not only about my mental illnesses, but also about myself. Every day brings new lessons on dealing with depression and anxiety. In my experience, the best way this happens is when you slow down and take things day by day.

Now I want to hear from you! What is a bit of advice you have for someone who is learning about symptoms of mental illness? Let me know in the comments!

"There is only one corner of the universe you can be certain of improving, and that's your own self." - Aldous Huxley
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The Camouflage of Self-Stigma

I wish it weren’t true, but I’m extremely familiar with self-stigma. I’ve written about it before; in fact, I tried to break it down in a blog post last year. But as much as I’ve learned about how self-stigma exists in the world, I’m a whole different story. I have so much more to learn about how self-stigma exists within myself. How it moves, what it looks like for me and how to spot it when it happens.

Self-stigmatization about my own mental wellness disguises itself well. If it goes unchecked, this chain of events leads to negative thoughts and anxious spirals. It’s a lesson I’ve had to learn more than once, but it’s a valuable one. The camouflage of self-stigma has always been, and will likely always be, a challenge for me.

One misconception I’ve had to learn about self-stigma is the judgement that it entails. When I first thought about self-stigma (what it was, what it means), I compared it to negative thoughts, self-hate or self-loathing. I thought it was another version of not liking yourself, another catchy mental health term that just means we think we’re awful.

But actually, it goes much deeper than that. To borrow from my post last year about self-stigma, the American Psychological Association defines it as:

“Self-stigma refers to the negative attitudes, including internalized shame, that people with mental illness have about their own condition.”

American Psychological Association

Stigma is a mark of disgrace, of shame. A social stigma (straight from the Wikipedia itself) is “the disapproval of, or discrimination against, an individual or group based on perceived characteristics that serve to distinguish them from other members of a society.” If we’re exercising a stigma about our own mental health condition, in some way, we disapprove of it. And even though it’s a tiny aspect of stigma, that can be a lot to unpack for a person.

I’d like to think that I grow more comfortable with my mental health challenges every day, but that’s not true. I’ve definitely grown more comfortable over a long period of time, but every day isn’t a step forward. And when I make a misstep or feel like I’ve failed, I don’t always recognize it for what it is. A harsh word or mean self-critique comes in quickly and before I know it, I think I’m too good for my depression.

I’m quicker than anyone to judge what I perceive as “failures” when it comes to handling depression. I shouldn’t be doing that anymore, I think to myself. I’m past this; I’m better than this. I take a linear approach to a non-linear problem and not only do I not find a solution, but I dig myself in even deeper. It’s a misunderstanding of my own mental illness, and a misunderstanding of mental health challenges in general.

One of the core aspects of self-stigma, at least for me, is rooted in shame. Shame about my mental illness, shame about the challenges it creates. But also, shame because there’s still a small part of me that thinks I should be better than this. That I’ve learned enough about mental health that “these things” shouldn’t be happening. But that’s not true; it never was. Self-stigma hides itself, it shapes itself and it molds itself to look like something else. Acknowledging this shame doesn’t mean it’ll go away. But hopefully, means I’m better suited to handle it when it inevitably rears its ugly head once again.

"Judge people not by what they are, but by what they strive to become." - Fyodor Dostoyevsky quote

Music and My Mental Health – Part Two

Earlier this week, I wrote about the connection between music and my mental health. I’ve wanted to write a post like this for a long time, but it was challenging. It’s hard to put into words the impact music has had throughout my mental health journey. In Tuesday’s post, I did a lot of research to show the benefits of music, and how it can help improve people’s mental health. Today, I want to expand on that a little bit, and talk about my own relationship with music. Time and again, music has given me a space to feel seen, heard and understood in my mental health challenges.

In my research for my post earlier this week, I found a passage from a Harvard University blog that summed up a lot of my feelings when it comes to music:

“As complex human beings from a wide variety of cultures, with a variety of life experiences and mental and physical health needs, our connection with music is very personal.”

Harvard Health Publishing

I love this quote because I think it’s something extremely underrated about music. Human beings are complex, so why wouldn’t our music be just as intricate and interesting? There are so many genres of music; even within those genres, there are sub-genres and musical styles that are hyper-niche and specific. And to me, that feels like a wonderful parallel for mental health.

Even though I don’t create music myself, it’s a constant in my life. I’ve struggled on and off with depersonalization over the years, when I don’t always feel like a real person doing real things. But music is a way to deal with those struggles. In fact, it’s become one of my go-to ways to help me feel connected to the world around me. When I put on a song that matches my mood, my confidence picks up a bit. Things might not going right for me but in this moment, I can speak to that in a way that reminds me how well I know myself.

I love listening to music, but I also love having music on while I’m going about my day. It feels like I’m setting the soundtrack to my day, and I can take that day in any direction I’d like. It’s a reminder that while I’m not always in control of everything, I can still have fun with what’s within my control. And in that sense, it’s an apt metaphor for my mental health.

Music has encouraged me and inspired me. It’s picked me up when I’m down, and comforted me when I couldn’t get out of bed. It’s grounded me when I don’t feel like myself, calmed me down when I feel anxious and boosted my mood when I’m depressed. For all of these reasons, I’m excited to introduce a new type of post that will be coming soon to My Brain’s Not Broken! There are so many songs that have impacted me and my mental health over the years, and I want to share them with you.

Once a month, I’ll share a song I love that has had a big impact on my mental health journey. I’m hoping this will help me share more about myself and my mental health journey, in addition to giving some love to some of the songs and artists that have been there for me over the years. Be on the lookout for this new feature on the blog and until then, I hope you listen to some music that feeds your soul!

This week was all about music on My Brain’s Not Broken, and now I want to hear from YOU. What is your relationship with music, and do you think it has an impact on your mental health? Let me know in the comments!

"Music is healing. Music holds things together." Quote by Prince.

Music and My Mental Health – Part One

In the five years since I started this blog, there’s something that I haven’t written much about: music. It’s difficult for me to explain — succinctly, at least — but music plays a huge role in my mental wellness. While I dabbled in singing and playing musical instruments as a kid, I never had much talent in that area. But even so, I love listening to music. I’ve grown in my taste and the types of genres I enjoy, but the relationship I’ve developed with music over the years if one I’ve come to cherish.

There are many different genres of music I love, and each of them play a specific role in my life. There are go-to songs I want to play when I’m excited, when I’m anxious, when I’m sad and when I’m depressed. Music has been beneficial for my mental health for a long time and today, I want to share the benefits it can have for everyone’s mental health.

For this post, I decided to do a little research. There’s logic behind the value of music and why/how it can make us feel good, but I wanted to go beyond that. Beyond being a hobby or a profession, music shows up in the mental health space. Music therapy gives people a chance to write, play or listen to music as a way of understanding themselves. There are also psychological benefits, such as reducing stress and improving cognitive performance.

Music can be a therapeutic tool, and that doesn’t have to be in an official capacity. It could be listening to our favorite song after a long day. Putting on soothing music when we’re wound up, or playing pump-up music when we exercise. Many of us use music therapeutically and don’t even know it.

There is also the way people use music as a form of expression. People make music about every single emotion under the sun. They write music, lyrics, they sing and dance. Writing is one of my favorite things in the world, but I don’t always have the right words to express how I feel.

Beyond myself, I get immense joy from seeing other people use music to express themselves. Through music, we see people work their way through the ups and downs of life. We see them deal with things like grief and trauma, but also with joy and happiness. We see them being human.

Music has a ton of benefits when it comes to our mental health, and it’s the versatility of it that I love so much. In my next post, I’ll explore more of my own relationship with music and it’s impact on my mental health. Until then, go listen to some music!

"Music is healing. Music holds things together." - Prince

Five Ways to Deal With Intrusive Thoughts

Earlier this week, I wrote about intrusive thoughts, what they look like, and what we can do about them. Intrusive thoughts can be hard to recognize – I went years before I even knew what they were – but we can deal with them and manage them in a healthy way. There are many ways to deal with intrusive thoughts, and I wanted to share some of the best ways I’ve found of doing so.

Name and label these thoughts as quickly as possible. One of the reasons intrusive thoughts can run wild in our minds is because we can’t figure out what’s going on. I’ve had so many thoughts that I wasn’t able to recognize or name as intrusive; that’s years of moments where a false narrative about who I am and what I’m about ran wild. Labeling intrusive thoughts as intrusive, as unwelcome and unwanted, as soon as you can will go a long way toward mental wellness.

Remind yourself that these thoughts are intrusive, and that not all your thoughts are up to you. I used to believe that every thought I had was a conscious decision on my part. I’d like to say that this was because I was young, or even a kid, but it’s mostly because of the misconception I had surrounding my brain and my thoughts. Not all of our thoughts have to mean anything, and most don’t. But when intrusive thoughts come in, it’s important to have that reminder in the moment so that things don’t fester and grow within us.

Don’t expect the thoughts to disappear in the blink of an eye. As much as I’d like to tell you that intrusive thoughts disappear when you acknowledge them, that’s unlikely to happen. In fact, awareness of an issue can often make things challenging in the short-term (something I’ve continuously learned in therapy this year). But even if it feels like there’s no progress being made, there is. You’re becoming stronger and more resistant to the false narratives in your head, and hopefully gaining mental strength in the process.

Acknowledge that there might be an underlying problem. While intrusive thoughts are associated with several mental health disorders, they can also be triggered by stress, anxiety or trauma in our lives. They can be short-term or long-term problems for people but either way, there might be something going on outside of these thoughts that we need to deal with. In fact, many people who deal with intrusive thoughts aren’t dealing with a mental health disorder, according to experts.

Remember that your thoughts are not who you are. People have thoughts, but they are not what make us. Accepting a thought that we’re having does not make us evil, rude, mean or a bad person. Pushing thoughts down, trying to ignore them and not deal with them, do nothing to make those difficult moments pass. Oftentimes, those thoughts will just come back bigger and badder than before. You are so much more than intrusive thoughts that might come and go every so often. In the grand scheme of things, intrusive thoughts can exist as they are – thoughts that come and go just like thousands, or even millions, of others in the course of our lives.

We can’t choose to have intrusive thoughts, but we can choose how we engage with them. The better prepared we are to go up against them, the better chance we have of building a mentally healthy foundation against intrusive thoughts, and other lesser-known aspects of health and wellness.

Have you ever dealt with intrusive thoughts? What’s a piece of advice you have for someone who’s had intrusive thoughts before? Let me know in the comments! Have a great weekend, friends.

Breaking Down Mental Health Terms: What Are Intrusive Thoughts?

Over the years, I’ve learned a number of words, phrases and definitions that have helped me understand my own mental health. Some of these are connected to mental illness or medicine, while others are connected to mental wellness. In this recurring series, I break down some of the mental health terms I’ve learned over the years. Today, I’ll be breaking down intrusive thoughts: what they are, what they look like and what we can do about them.

What are Intrusive Thoughts?

I spent many years experiencing intrusive thoughts without knowing what they were. Even once I learned about them, I still had trouble understanding them. The definition of intrusive thoughts is quite simple, but dealing with them can feel far more complicated. According to Healthline, intrusive thoughts “are unexpected images or thoughts that seem to pop into your head. They’re often strange or distressing. But these thoughts happen to almost everyone from time to time.”

It’s not always easy to spot intrusive thoughts, or to name them when they happen. In fact, not knowing how to name these sort of thoughts can lead someone to assuming that’s just how their mind works. But intrusive thoughts are often unpleasant and unwanted, and that lack of desire for a thought you may have is a good sign that you’re experiencing an intrusive thought. This can also lead people to feeling ashamed or wanting to control/stop these thoughts, which can lead to spirals and other mental health issues.

What Do Intrusive Thoughts Look Like?

Intrusive thoughts are just that – thoughts. There’s an instinct to believe that every thought we have matters or to worry about what they mean, but they’re just thoughts. Our brains have (on average) around 6,000 thoughts per day and for a lot of people, most of those thoughts are pleasant or just nondescript. But it’s these intrusive thoughts – which can often feel scary because they are dark or violent, or full of worry or doubt – that have a habit of sticking with us. These are the thoughts we can’t let go of if we’re not careful.

When I think about identifying intrusive thoughts, there are two criteria I look out for:

  • Did this thought feel unwelcome/unwanted? Was I thinking about something else, or anything at all, when this thought popped into my head?
  • Is the content unpleasant, or something that feels vastly different from what we usually think about?

When I can identify these sort of patterns when it comes to a thought (or a set of thoughts), I can recognize them as intrusive and begin to deal with them.

What Can We Do About It?

The more I write these blog posts, the more I end up stressing that the most important part of understanding any of these terms is awareness. This is especially true with intrusive thoughts. Without knowing what to call these thoughts or recognize when they happen, things can feel scary. We can begin to think that those thoughts are who we are, or that they aren’t intrusive and they just are part of us. But we need to push back against this narrative and build a new one.

Thoughts are just thoughts, and if they aren’t interfering with your daily life or make a person feel like they need to take action, they can be harmless. But it’s important to name and define the various aspects of our mental health, even if we don’t deal with all of them. The mental health stigma grows when we’re afraid or unable to talk about our problems. We still might be afraid of these problems when we name them, but at least we know what we’re up against.

Guest Post: A World Dipped in Suicide

TW: This post discusses suicide and suicide-related topics

“Suicide doesn’t end the chances of life getting worse, it eliminates the possibility of it ever getting better” (unknown)

An unfortunate circumstance, suicide is a terrible, global anomaly from which 700,000-800,000 people die each year worldwide. Additionally, for every person who has died from suicide, twenty more people have attempted it. Globally, 77% of suicides occur in low to middle-income countries, with one tragedy ending in death every 40 seconds. In 2019, suicide was the 17th leading cause of death in the world, accounting for 1.3% of all deaths worldwide.. Now that is a frightening fact, and hopefully eye-opening to how serious it is.

Over the years, I have experienced my own struggles with suicide and have attempted it several times. All were scary, tragic, and disappointing. Scary that I almost died, tragic that I felt so desperate that I had no other option, and disappointed in myself that I gave up and gave in. But the most painful and heartbreaking was the death of my brother, who died by suicide in the fall of 2014.

As if it was yesterday, I remember every moment surrounding his demise—the breath that I took, the tears that I cried. I held onto every word my mother spoke over the phone; as she whispered that “he is gone,” my knees gave forth, and I crashed to the ground. Watching my life collapse around me, a trickling card house so easily demolished. I swore to my mother that “she was lying” because it couldn’t be true. I didn’t want to accept the pain or the death.

He just called me a few hours ago, and I missed the call. Every day of my life, I wonder what he would have said. The last words to leave his lips. Was there something I could have spoken to change his mind? Rewind time and make it go away. Suicide not only affects its victims but affects millions of people each year. All are wondering the very same thing I have wondered for countless hours on end. Could they have made a difference?

The same dream replays in my mind repeatedly. I don’t know if I’m awake or asleep anymore. Kyle, my brother, and I are running through our neighbor’s cow field. Sunset passes over the trees, and beautiful yellow beams of light pass through the leaves. Everything passes in slow motion, and I watch myself running; I turn around and yell to my brother, “hurry up, come on, Kyle” as I reach out to touch the soft grass blades, letting them scratch the surface of my hand. Kyle appears from around a tall oak tree, yelling after me to “wait up” I smile and laugh, and we run off together into the field beyond the sunset. Then I wake up, and he is gone. Everyone grieves in different ways, be in the moment and remember the beautiful life.

Suicide affects the victim’s life and everyone who loves that person. It is a negative trickling effect on family, friends, and the community. Many of them are left asking themselves, “Why.” You may start with a feeling first of initial SHOCK, with total numbness, and inability to function. Often followed by DENIAL of the facts of the demise or the overall death. This can be both alarming and difficult because we often don’t know the facts and are left with too many unanswered questions.

Many times, this is followed by GUILT. I know I felt a pang of extreme guilt after my younger brother’s suicide. You are feeling the need to protect them and that I failed at that. Desperately I wished I had heard the phone ring. I don’t think anyone could ever imagine what contemplating suicide or suffering through suicide feels like. Just imagining is painful enough.

We of course feel SADNESS, the dark wings that are spread over you that you fight to get out from under. Or maybe you don’t, maybe the sadness is too much, and you give in. Don’t fight these feelings, because fighting them only prolongs the process. Facing it hurts, but trust me, hiding from it hurts more in the long run. It is human nature to blame oneself when dealing with a tragedy, rather than accept that some things are out of our control.

Sometimes we feel ANGER, mad that it happened, frustrated that they seemed to let it happen, and overall rage that we couldn’t stop it or grasp an understanding of how it even came to this. How this person felt there was no way out. That saddened me for my brother, and others like him, because they felt trapped within their own minds. Unable to escape a pain so deep that they could not bare another breath or one more beat of their heart.

Lastly, usually, and in your own time, you will feel acceptance. Accepting that they’re gone, admission of your feelings, and acknowledging that some things are out of your hands. You cannot control anyone or anything, but yourself and your own actions. You can choose how to respond, you can choose to get help, you can choose to work through your feelings and find hope. I can’t give you a secure timeline of how long you will walk this road, I can’t even promise the pain will go away.

It’s been eight years since my brother took his own life and two years since I tried to take my own. The pain is still there, I shed tears for my loss and sadness and feel disappointment and anger life has taken me down this path. But I keep going, I keep working, whatever I can do, and try to make the pain lessen with each passing day. I grow stronger, and brighter and gain a better understanding of why what happened did.

Helping others always helped me, seeing something in someone I once saw in myself and knowing ways to help them is an enormous spiritual uplifter. Find what it is that helps you, spread the word to end mental stigma, speak out and speak up. Don’t fight this battle alone when there are so many like you that can help lighten the load. There are people all over the world that could learn something from your struggles. Maybe it will ease their pain for them. Seek out the light, among the darkness. You are not alone.

*Please be advised that I’m not a doctor, but a survivor. You should always seek help from a licensed practitioner. Below are great sources for help and information.

The author, Ashley Cote, is a single mom, born and raised in New England, in a small town in Vermont. After attending college for nursing, she found that writing was her true love and passion. She has two beautiful daughters who inspire her creativity in writing every day.

Every Day Brings Something New

I’m writing this post on the heels of what I wrote earlier this week, about the challenges of setting goals. I don’t know how, but in the last few years I’ve become fascinated with the concept of goal-setting. It might be the aspirational aspect of it, of self-improvement and wanting to get better. It could be that I enjoy the boost of serotonin I get when I accomplish that goal (however big or small). But I think what outranks all of that is how my goals remind me of who I am and who I want to be.

When it comes to my mental wellness, one of the most important things I can do is remind myself that I’m a person. I’m a living, breathing, doing-things-and-living-life person. Life has a way of remembering for us but I appreciate the ability to remind myself, too. The reason this is so important to me is because in the doldrums of every-day life, it can be easy to forget.

Our uniqueness can be lost or forgotten not only by others, but also ourselves. There are many ways I could describe who I am and what I’m about but above all, I’m a person. Not only that, but I am unique. I’m unique in my personality, in my likes and dislikes, in what I’m passionate about and what I choose to do. And that matters.

This uniqueness also means that my goals are unique. The things I want to accomplish, the goals I want to set and meet are unique to who I am and what my life is like right now. My goals don’t have to be realistic for anyone else except who I am, in this moment. And just like other habits and techniques for my mental health, these goals can change.

I know I can sound like a broken record at times, but that’s for a good reason. For many people, mental health is a challenge we face every single day. We face a challenge of getting out of bed in the morning. We face a challenge of choosing to engage with the world, even when we don’t know if we’re up to it. We face a challenge of acknowledging when our mental health is in a bad place, and when we need help.

All day long, people face challenges that they can either engage with and ignore. For people experiencing mental illness, the luxury to ignore isn’t always possible. There’s a chance that I accomplish my goals for today. That I can do everything I set out to do despite the ways my mental health might challenge me. But in the same way, there’s an equal chance that those challenges will exist again tomorrow. That’s why I lean on who I am. I lean on the person I want to be, and the person I am now. Mental illness can depersonalize us, it can make us not feel real. But I am, you are, we are, and we’ll continue down this road together.

"Always be a first rate version of yourself and not a second rate version of someone else." - Judy Garland

Mental Health and Complacency

There have been many moments along my mental health journey where I’ve felt like I’ve failed. I don’t quite know how I’m failing or in what way, but I feel that I am. There’s a sense of impending doom, a fear that I am not living up to my potential, that I’m not accomplishing enough. Enough what? you might ask. To be honest, I don’t know what to tell you. This desire to be enough, to do enough isn’t only tied to what I’m hoping to gain. It’s also about what I’m hoping to avoid. There’s a fear of complacency about my mental health that I never want to test, and that is what I’d like to share today.

What does it mean to be complacent?

Complacency is a challenging word for me. It’s one of the many concepts that are difficult for a young person to grasp, despite how often people use the word. From what I could tell, I was trying my hardest at the things I tried growing up and avoiding complacency. I played sports, I tried my best in school and I tried to take something from the hobbies and activities I wasn’t as talented at.

But in those younger years, the idea of complacency never came up. It was when I was older that I heard adults talking about it, about the desire to to never settle. Complacency breeds failure, I was told. Being complacent will get in the way of winning. The fears of complacency were drilled into me as a teenager and young adult and I think these effects still resonate with me today.

I understand that there are plenty of areas in life where it’s not good to be complacent. That desire to strive and be the best at what we do is understandable. But what about in our mental health? What does it mean to be complacent with our mental health, and is that a good or bad thing?

What complacency means to me

Many of us have worked hard to get where we are with our mental health. It’s taken days, months and years of learning, understanding and trying to grow in ways that help us live healthier lives. We find what works and learn what doesn’t, but each new thing we learn is valuable. If I find something that works for my mental wellness, I want to build around it and make it part of my routine. I want my mental health to be as consistent as possible but given all I’ve been told in my life, that sounds eerily similar to complacency.

Maybe, just maybe, it’s not about complacency at all. It’s possible that mental illness can exacerbate my fear of complacency, or get in the way of it. I confuse a lot of things in life with anxiety and depression, and vice versa. It’s affected my relationship with happiness and joy, fear and panic. It’s changed how I see agitation and aggravation. But that’s okay. It’s all part of me. If I keep that desire to figure out my mental health challenges and move forward, I know I’m not being complacent. I’m simply doing the best I can with what I have which in my mind, is the opposite of being complacent.

Now, over to you! Do you have any sort of feelings about the word complacency? Is it a useful word in your life or (like me) do you struggle with it? Let me know in the comments!

"People who say it cannot be done should not interrupt those who are doing it." Quote from George Bernard Shaw over a photo of mountains.

Sitting With Feelings That Won’t Go Away

After writing earlier this week about how my mental health catches me off guard, I wanted to build on that message and have some tips and techniques for people to use when the same thing happens to them. But before I could dive into that, I had a few thoughts that were nagging at me. I understood how these things catch me off guard, but I couldn’t understand why. Doesn’t everyone have thoughts that distract them? I’d guess that some of the thoughts and feelings I struggle with are similar to ones that many people have. So why do they have such a big impact on me? Before I can tackle the how, I needed to tackle the why – which is what I’m writing about today.

Dealing with depression and anxiety often involves dealing with intrusive thoughts on a regular basis. I’ll be going about my day, maybe getting lost in a task at work or one of my hobbies, and then a thought will pop into my head. Most of my energy is spent dealing with the thought itself; I do some thinking about whether or not the thought is true or accurate. Sometimes it’s decoding a thought to realize it’s not even rational, or the fear I have is logically impossible.

But what often sticks with me isn’t always the contents of the thought I have. What tends to stick around are the feelings that these thoughts have instilled in me. I don’t always remember the thought process that made me feel sad; all I know is that in that moment, I’m sad. The same goes for times when I’m feeling anxious, restless or depressed. The feeling lingers well beyond these thoughts. If I’m not vigilant, those feelings can fester and grow much stronger simply by refusing to go away.

I think a big part of why these feelings linger, and why I feel so caught off guard sometimes, is that I don’t always accept what’s happening. Even after a decade of dealing with anxiety and depression, my brain’s instinct is still to reject any unpleasant or unwelcome thought that pops into my brain. My first instinct is to try to get rid of the thought as quickly as possible, and to get rid of it on my own terms. It’s a fight-or-flight response that does the opposite of its intended effect. Rather than making the thoughts/feelings disappear, the instinct of rejection allows them to stick around longer than they would have, creating a cycle that feels impossible to manage.

Writing this also got me thinking about the role fear plays into our mental health. Fear of the unknown (which I’ve written about before), but also fear what we’ve already been through. Sometimes, my intrusive thoughts can remind me of an unpleasant or unsuccessful experience with my mental health and it can bring me back to that time. I feel stuck or lost in that moment, and I’m terrified of being back there again. Understanding why things impact us is just as valuable as how they impact us and the more we reflect on that, the more we learn – about our mental wellness and about ourselves.