Author: Aimee Eddy

SIGNS OF CRISIS

Published on by Aimee Eddy4 Comments

Many people and work places don’t know how to handle mental illness. They often misinterpret signs of a person in crisis needing help. This can be detrimental to the person struggling with mental illness. Telling someone he or she needs help when he or she dosen’t can cause the person embarrassment and anger. Handling a person in crisis improperly can lead him or her further into the darkest part of his or her hole. It’s not only important to know the signs of crisis, but it’s also important to know how to handle a person in crisis.

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Below is a list of signs of a person in crisis.

  • Talk of taking one’s own life and making attempts
  • Becoming withdrawn from family, friends and co-workers
  • Frequently calling off from work or canceling social plans
  • Sudden changes in mood
  • Neglecting to take care of one’s self
  • Inability to do regular duties at home and work
  • Easily agitated and bursts of anger
  • Often making mistakes on regular duties at home or at work
  • Deep sadness, hopelessness, and crying
  • Inability to make decisions or handle minor problems
  • Incoherent statements or writings

When you notice these signs, don’t over-react. Be kind and gentle when talking to the one suffering with this illness. Never assume you understand what he or she is going through unless you yourself have been through mental illness. A moment in your life when you dealt with deep sadness is not the same as an illness that doesn’t go away without help.

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Don’t confront the person about what you have noticed in front of others. Take the person to somewhere private. Tell him or her what you have noticed and ask the person if he or she needs help. Never force help. You can’t make a person who doesn’t want help get help. Making someone talk to a crisis worker or go to counseling when he or she is unwilling can only make the person more upset and lead to irrational behaviors such as self-harming, suicide attempt, or a violent outbreak.

If the person agrees he or she needs help, then be willing to assist him or her. If he or she is at work, then be very discreet. Take the person to a private room and call the crisis hotline. Don’t have a crisis worker come to a place of work. If he or she does come to the work-place, take the worker to a private room.

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When I was at my lowest point, a manager called crisis on me and the worker came to my department. I was embarrassed and my fellow employees formed judgments of me. This forced me deeper into my dark hole. Later that night I went home and injured myself.

Don’t assume because the person has mental illness he or she is dangerous unless the person becomes violent and begins to make threats to other people. The majority of people with mental illness are only a danger to themselves. There are some who go through psychosis that commit awful acts, but that is only a small percentage.

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When I was going through crisis I was told I was a danger to others around me. The only person I have ever hurt is myself. Anyone who knew me knew I could never harm another person. I was self-harming at the time and had no desire to hurt anyone else. Being accused of this made me angry and hurt my feelings. I was a victim of prejudice and I couldn’t find the words to defend myself. All I could do was cry.

If you know someone who has mental illness whether it be a friend, an employee, or co-worker, educate yourself about the illness. Be supportive and willing to listen anytime he or she needs to. Know the signs of crisis and how to help when the time becomes necessary.

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Many work places are not educated in how to handle mental illness or a person in crisis. This can lead to inappropriate actions and further anguish and pain to the person going through the illness. I myself have suffered the wrong treatment and it led to further problems.

I was accused of hurting myself at work when I didn’t. I was forced to sit in an office and talk to a crisis worker when I didn’t need to. If my manager knew anything about self-injury, she would have known self-injurers never hurt themselves in public. Harming oneself takes place in a private spot and the person goes to great extremes to hide it. I was hurt and angry.

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The proper treatment of someone with mental illness can be a life saver. Because of friends and family who knew how to help me, I am in recovery. I stand in the light of recovery sharing what I have learned with others.

A CELEBRATION OF MOTHERS

Published on by Aimee Eddy1 Comment

Most mothers are a gift from God. There are so many kinds of mothers, ones that are not related in any way, but take on the motherly role: grandma’s and aunts who take over when a biological mother can’t, owners of pets who love their animals like children, women who lost their babies, women who give birth and raise their children and so on. Mother’s Day is a celebration of all mothers who give endlessly and who love a child, an animal, an adult, and a lost one unconditionally.

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My dad, and five mothers.  3 generations of love. One fur baby mother.

 

I never had children of my own. With my mental illness I thought it would be safer for me if I decided not to have children. I don’t handle stress very well and couldn’t risk being off my antidepressants during pregnancy or going through post-partum depression. I didn’t want to put a child through the ups and downs of my illness when I couldn’t handle the responsibilities of motherhood. I don’t regret my decision. I have had four special dogs through the years that I have loved like children and one who is still with me. I also have six nieces, five nephews, and two great nieces I love like my own.

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My fuzzy child with four legs. Esther my sweet, sweet little girl.

I was and am very lucky to have a very special mother who stood and continues to stand at my side through some very rough times. When I was bullied as a child, it was my mom who held me after school while I cried. When everyone thought I was stupid, it was my mom who told me I was smart and could do anything I put my mind to. When I broke into angry rages as a child, it was my mom who rubbed my back and talked to me until I calmed down. When I first realized I had mental illness, it was my mom who searched long and hard to find me help. When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, it was my mom sitting beside me comforting me until my husband came.

My mother also waited with my husband while I went through a mastectomy and hysterectomy. She isn’t just my mother, but she is also my best friend. I can always turn to her when I need advice or an extra shoulder to lean on. She has dealt with a lot from me and has watched me go through a lot. No matter how impossible I was at times, she never stopped showering me with love. She gave me the confidence and encouragement to keep fighting even during times it seemed like I was battling the impossible fight. She encouraged me to never give up even when I felt like giving up.

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My Mom with my dad. A mother who was made with all the beautiful stuff God could fill a woman with.

I don’t think I would have overcome mental illness, breast cancer, and other health problems without the encouragement, support, and love my mother gave. She never let me give up on myself and instilled in me the belief I could do anything I wanted to as long as I believed in myself. She taught me to see everyone as equal and to never judge anyone.

I have risen above the obstacles in my life because of what my mother has taught me. No matter what lay ahead of me, I accomplished my goals because my mom taught me to put my mind to it and fight to make it happen. I put my mind to overcoming mental illness and I’m in recovery, I put my mind to fighting breast cancer and I am cancer free, I put my mind to proving people I was smart in school and I graduated with honors, and I put my mind to be a writer and I am published. I put my mind to many more things and I have reached them because of what my mother taught me. I am a strong vibrant, determined, and compassionate woman because of the lessons my mom taught me throughout my life.

My husband was raised by his grandmother. She became his mom. She took care of him through his childhood and raised him into the wonderful man he is. She molded him into a strong, hardworking, and compassionate man. When she passed, his Aunt Fay became a motherly figure to him. She always supported him and loved him unconditionally and he could always turn to her when he needed a shoulder to lean on. His biological mother failed him, but his grandma and aunt stepped in.

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Aunt Fay. A woman who gave endless love and compassion.

 

 

Do you have a mother or a special woman in your life that has been motherly? Did you celebrate her Sunday? Mothers of all kinds are special and deserve to be celebrated not only on Mother’s Day, but every day. If you haven’t told your mom you love her, tell her today. Even if she’s not blood related, let her know how special she is each day. You don’t need a special day to celebrate mothers.

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4 generations of mothers and 3 generations of grandmothers.

I am who I am because I have a wonderful mother who molded me as a child and stands beside me as an adult. I tell her I love her each time I talk to her. I could never tell her enough how grateful I am for having her as a mother. My mom is part of the reason I stand in the light of recovery from mental illness and breast cancer.

 

 

 

IS THAT A NEW STYLE?

Published on by Aimee Eddy4 Comments

How many of you who have never been through breast cancer or who are new to the disease know what a compression sleeve is? Not a lot of people have heard of compression sleeves or lymphedema. When you’re diagnosed with cancer a lot of terms and information are thrown at you. Your mind becomes over-loaded. You hear a lot of stuff you never heard of before, like lymphedema. The doctor describes it to you, but the words whirl around in your mind and never sink in. You never even think about having to wear a compression sleeve for lymphedema. You don’t even know what one is.

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So is a compression sleeve a new style? You can order them online with different styles or get them in different colors through a medical supply company. Is lymphedema a fake condition or a real thing?

A fellow employee pointed at my arm. “What are you wearing that sleeve for?”

“It’s for lymphedema. It’s because they removed some lymph nodes from my under-arm to check for cancer,” I told her.

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She shrugged her shoulders. “Never heard of that; it must be fake.”

She walked away before I could explain to her what it was.

Before I got breast cancer, I never heard of it either. I was totally confused when my doctor explained it to me. I had to go to physical therapy before my mastectomy. Why would I have to go to therapy when there was nothing wrong and I hadn’t even had my surgery? I even had to answer a questionnaire about my pain level in my arm, and what I could do without or with difficulty. I had no pain and no problems using my arm. It didn’t make sense. Why was I going to physical therapy when there was nothing wrong? Didn’t I need to have surgery first?

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I met with a nice lady who measured my arm from the wrist to my shoulder. She told me they would see me within a few weeks after surgery to measure my arm again. Then she explained to me what lymphedema was. The physical therapist gave me a list of things I couldn’t do after surgery like shave my under-arm with a razor, wash dishes without gloves, carry heavy bags, and so on. I had things I also had to watch out for like cuts, scratches, bug bites, and sunburns. It all seemed scary.

I learned that the lymph nodes in my under-arm filter infections and waste fluids from the tissues. When the lymph nodes are removed, they can’t properly filter the fluids and it causes swelling called lymphedema. When the arm starts swelling, then a compression sleeve is prescribed to help ease the swelling. You can learn more about this at MedicineNet https://www.medicinenet.com/lymphedema/article.htm#lymphedema_facts.

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After my surgery, my physical therapist found a slight difference in the measurements of my arm. So I was prescribed my stylish compression sleeve. My insurance company covered three of them. I got one tan and two pink ones. My therapist told me I had to wear it at work and anytime I did heavy lifting or strenuous work with my right arm. I’ve worn medical boots to work, ankle braces, and a knee brace, so why not a compression sleeve?

My fashionable sleeve became a hit fast. I was bombarded with questions. Most of them thought I hurt my arm, and some thought I was wearing it to keep my arm warm. My favorite question was, “Is that sleeve a new style?”

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I just smiled. “Yeah it is, but only for breast cancer survivors.”

The customer looked confused. To avoid further questioning, I just told her it keeps my arm from swelling because lymph nodes were removed, and it makes me look stylish. I don’t have a lot of time to go into long explanations while waiting on customers and my comment seemed to satisfy her curiosity.

The truth is that a compression sleeve is very important to many women suffering with lymphedema. It may look like a new style or a strange bandage, but it is very important. It helps prevent further swelling and gives comfort when an arm is swollen. My fellow employee calls it a fake sleeve, but it’s very real and necessary.

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For new cancer patients, I suggest that when your doctor hands you a pamphlet on lymphedema, read through it, and do what you are told to help prevent it. If you need to wear a compression sleeve, wear it with style. A compression sleeve is a small compromise to being cancer free or in cancer treatment. Wear it with pride. Don’t be afraid of the questions. It doesn’t hurt to educate others about lymphedema and the purpose of compression sleeves. People don’t learn if we don’t share our knowledge with them.

I’m ten months cancer free. I’m not sure if I’ll have to wear my compression sleeve forever or not, but I’ll do what it takes to prevent lymphedema. I wear my sleeve with style and I’m proud to be standing in the light of recovery.

 

 

MENTAL ILLNESS AND BULLYING

Published on by Aimee Eddy3 Comments

A large number of children in our schools are being bullied. Some of the children, after years of being put down, pushed around, and teased, decline into mental illness and even commit suicide. Bullying is a form of abuse that not only affects children in their younger years, but also follows them into their adulthood. Mental illness can be a combination of an imbalance in the brain, genetics, or an unhealthy family life along with the continuous belittling happening at school and online. We look up to our teachers for protection, but they can also be bullies.

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When I was in school, hardly anyone had computers at home. We went to the computer lab in school to learn how to use them and how to surf the internet. There were no laptops, tablets, or cellphones that connect you to social media. There were also no anti-bullying rules or movements to bring awareness to bullying. It was a big problem in and out of school.

The bullying began for me as early as first grade. A teacher called me a retard in front of my classmates when I couldn’t learn like the rest. The name retard stuck to me like fly paper. That’s when the sadness slowly began to creep in. Year by year the bullying by my classmates and teachers continued. Slowly the self-hate, sadness, and hopelessness increased.

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By the time I was in high school, I had sunk into a world of deep sadness and silence. I coped with the pain of the bullying in school by imagining awful things happening to me, like being hit by a car and going into a coma. I even imagined my own death. I day-dreamed of any way possible I could avoid school and the constant taunting, but the teasing didn’t just happen in school.

I was harassed on the bus and even while playing in my own yard. One day a group of kids threw rocks at me while I was playing. They called me dummy, stupid, and retard while the stones flew through the air hitting me. My mom had to chase them away. I didn’t feel safe even at home. I even became sensitive to my younger brother’s, brotherly teasing. One little comment and I burst into a violent fit. I hit my brother, screamed, and threw things. It didn’t take much to send me into an angry fit. After I calmed down, I fell to my knees cried and pulled my hair.

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By the time I graduated from high school, I was slipping down into the darkest hole of depression. I struggled with mental illness throughout college. I began cutting and attempting suicide. In college I was diagnosed with major depression and had to take a year off.

The mental illness continued into my adult years. After a bad relationship, I was told I had depression, anxiety disorder, and borderline personality disorder (BPD). There was a history of mental illness in my family, but according to everything I read, BPD usually happen when a child suffered from some form of abuse. The only problem with that theory was I had very loving parents who would have never laid a hand on me. They were always supportive, loving, and encouraging. So what abuse could have triggered BPD? When I told my therapist about what I faced in school, she concluded my borderline was brought on by the bullying.

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It was believed that my mental illness was a combination of genetics and the abuse I faced by my classmates and teachers. It took me several years to undo what they did to me. They tore away my self-confidence and self-esteem. I had to rebuild it. The bullying from my childhood led to bad relationships in my adult years and struggles with my inner anguish. I struggled for years to learn to love myself and to realize I deserved to be treated well by others.

“Childhood Bullying Can Have Lasting Effects on Mental Health,” an article by Cari Nierenberg, states, “Bullying can have a lasting effect on a person’s mental health: A new study finds that children who were bullied frequently when they were 8 years old were more likely to develop a psychiatric disorder that needed treatment as an adult, compared with kids who were not bullied.” You can find this article on Live science at https://www.livescience.com/53034-childhood-bullying-lasting-mental-health-effects.html.

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Bullying is a form of abuse. It can lead to mental illness and suicide. It’s up to us to bring awareness to bullying and to push schools to enact stronger anti-bullying rules. We can save children from years of mental turmoil. If a child is being bullied, it’s important to get her or him help before he or she falls into the dark hole of mental illness or before he or she takes his or her life. Bullying is not a joke. It is a very real problem. Let’s save our children from struggling with the wounds bullying causes, not only in their childhood, but also into their adulthood.

I struggled for years to overcome the damage bullying did to me, but I am now in recovery from mental illness. I work with the National Youth Internet Safety and Cyberbullying Taskforce to bring awareness to bullying. If I can help just one child avoid years of struggling like I did, I am making a difference. Let’s make a difference together so children and adults can stand in the light of recovery from mental illness brought on by bullying.

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I overcame the damages caused by bullying I am standing in the light of recovery telling my story and speaking up for those who can’t.

HOW DO YOU DEFINE DETERMINATION?

Published on by Aimee EddyLeave a comment

With the holiday and my husband and my anniversary falling on Easter I was unable to write a blog post. Here’s a old one. I hope you enjoy it.

 

In many of my blogs, I mentioned determination, but I have not talked about what determination is. How do you define determination? Is it the ability to make it through one more day of sadness? Is it the choice to face daily struggles? Is it the ability to stand up to life’s challenges? Or is it how you stand up to all of these challenges?

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To me determination is to face life’s challenges with all the strength and willpower within you. It’s not giving up when everything around you seems dark and hopeless. It’s pushing forward when you feel as if you cannot go on anymore. It’s surpassing all odds and reaching forward when others have lost faith in you. Determination is the key to recovery from many disabilities, illness, and specially mental illness.

In grade school and high school, I struggled with a learning disability. My classmates and teachers thought I wasn’t smart enough to pass my classes or to have a future. In elementary my school teachers assigned a student to give me answers on tests. I was told that I would be pushed from one grade to the next because I couldn’t pass on my own.  I decided to prove to them I could pass my classes on my own. In high school, I found ways to work around my disability and pass my classes with A’s. I pushed forward against all odds and graduated with scholarships and honors. I decided I was going to prove to my classmates, teachers, and the world I was not stupid. With determination, I went to college, earned a degree, and held a job for twenty-four years.

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I applied this same determination to my mental illness. My life seemed hopeless and the dark hole endless. I lost faith in myself and when I was hospitalized, I dug deep down inside for the strength to climb out of the hole. I decided I did not want to live my life in darkness. I wanted to find happiness and to live a normal life. I felt like I was dying inside, but I pushed through it to reach towards the light. I mustered up all the strength I could to stand up to my illness. I pushed onward even though I could barely get out of bed or face the next day. It was the hardest challenge I ever had to face, but with determination, I reached recovery.

I’m now using all my inner strength to face physical health problems and to keep within the light. It would be easy to get depressed at the thought of facing another surgery and waking up each day with pain, but I will push forward.

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It’s determination that has helped me through all my life challenges and has helped me grow into the person I am. If you’re not determined enough to stand up to your illness against all odds, then you’ll sit at the bottom of the hole in complete darkness. Stand up, take control of your life and your illness. Push forward against all odds and climb the walls of the hole. Because of my determination, I stand at the top of the hole and I bathe in the light of happiness.

RISING ABOVE

Published on by Aimee Eddy2 Comments

Many of us have long stories of the trials and tribulations we have been through in our lives. Some dwell on the pain they suffered and find their lives at a standstill. Then there are others who lift themselves up and use their experiences to change others’ lives and to make the world a better place. Alexander Kovarovic honors such people with a special award called Saving Lives. He calls these people heroes and they are. They are saving people’s lives by the work they do.

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I struggled through many challenges in my life and I rose above them. I struggled through mental illness, bullying, abuse, and breast cancer. Through my struggles I lost faith in my ability to write. When I was at the worst time of my mental illness I gave up writing for a while. I thought of myself as a failure. I told everyone I wasn’t meant to write a book. I gave up on myself. I lost the will to live.

I spent many years of my life suffering in silence. In school while being bullied, I only spoke when I had to. While I struggled with mental illness in college, I told only one person in letters. I spent many years feeling like my life would never get better. I felt hopeless.

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I asked over and over, “Why me?”

When I was abused by a person who was supposed to be my friend, I asked, “Why me?”

When my boyfriend whom I was living with abused me and I fell deeper into my mental illness, I asked, “Why me?”

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Over and over again while I faced these awful tribulations in my life, I kept asking that same question with no answer.

Then God whispered an answer in my ear, “I helped you rise above your trials to help others through your experiences. Your suffering wasn’t for nothing. Good comes from the bad.”

For a while I struggled with how I could help others. How could I tell my story of falling to the depths of darkness and rising above? How could I use what I have been through to help others? I was stumped. I started writing again. I tried writing fictional short stories, but I just couldn’t seem to get them right. I wrote humor and I was successful at making people laugh, but God whispered to me, “Your writing is meant to help others in a bigger way.”

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Then I heard people in my writing Group, Pennwriters, talk about writing blogs. I decided to write a blog about recovery from mental illness. In 2014 I began this blog you are reading now, Finding the Light. But that didn’t seem like enough. I needed to help more people. I decide I could help others with my experiences and what I have learned in more ways. So I began writing my memoir about how I was bullied in school and found love and acceptance at the family garage. Then I went through breast cancer and put my memoir on hold. My blog suddenly became about recovery from mental illness and breast cancer.

I realized God wanted me to help people through my writing, but God had more plans for me. After I posted on a depression and bullying support group, Alex Kovarovic asked me to write for his organization, and in time he asked me to be the assistant to the director. Alex gave me the opportunity to help more people in different ways than just through my writing. I am helping teens through my work for the National Youth Internet Safety and Cyberbullying Taskforce. I have been helping them with an event, interviewing volunteers, advertising, and getting donations.

Last month I was interviewed for the news about being an advocate against bullying, my stories being published in Alexander Kovarovic’s book, Change Your life, and my own personal story of how I was bullied. My customers who saw the story hugged me and praised me for my work. I felt like I really made a difference.

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This weekend I was interviewed for the news again for my advocacy and work for the Taskforce. Then Alex presented me with the Saving Lives award and I gave a speech about my experiences. I stood before 42 people telling my story and I felt like this was what God had planned for me. He not only wanted me to help through my writing, but through the Taskforce and by telling my story.

I rose above my struggles to help others and to share my story. God makes good out of the bad. God turned my bad experiences into a tool I could use to make a difference in others lives. I don’t think of myself as a hero, but just a simple person who found her purpose in life.

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If you are struggling, know that God will help you rise above it. Don’t let your challenges leave you in a rut. Use them for good. Rise above and help others. Use what you have been through in some way to do good and to touch the world. Rise above the pain, the tears, the struggles, and bad times to help others who are going through what you have been through. Write a blog or book, start a support group, be a volunteer, and so on.

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This weekend I received an award for my work and my husband threw me a cancer-free party. I am celebrating my ability to rise above my tribulations and the gift God gave me to be able to help others. Because I am able to help others, I am floating in the light of recovery.

 

 

 

TOOLS OF COMFORT

Published on by Aimee Eddy1 Comment

When we are going through tough times, we have things we do or even something material that brings us comfort. Some have hobbies that bring them comfort, some find snuggling a stuffed animal brings them comfort, and some have a special object. When we are kids, we find comfort when afraid of monsters in the closet and the outside world in a special toy, a blanket, or even a pillow. Whatever you use to help ease your worrisome and troubled soul is important to you and is a part of your own coping technique. Just be sure your tools are healthy ones. Unhealthy tools are drugs and alcohol.

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How many of you watched the Dumbo cartoon movie as a child? I fell in love with the movie when I was a child. I related to Dumbo. He was teased for his big ears and I was teased for being learning disabled. I knew the agony he was feeling when his own kind laughed at him. I felt the same. We were both different. His mother tried to protect him, like my mom did. My mom fought with the school, trying to get me proper help and telling teachers I wasn’t hopeless. Dumbo’s mom was labeled a mad elephant for causing chaos to protect her son, and often my mom’s fight for me fell upon deaf ears.

I don’t remember what age I was when I fell in love with that cute elephant with big ears, but I was young. One Christmas I asked Santa to bring me a stuffed Dumbo for Christmas. I got a stuffed elephant with ears not as big as Dumbo’s, but I didn’t even notice. I loved my stuffed animal. He became my best friend and my tool of comfort. I took him to bed every night.

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The constant teasing I faced in school and the put downs by my teachers slowly led me into darkness. I began to have problems sleeping at night. I was plagued with night-mares and I worried about going to school the next day. I feared the darkness of the night. I lined my bed with stuffed animals. My mom wondered how I found enough room to lie down in my bed. I snuggled my Dumbo tight to my chest.

My elephant became my tool of comfort. I couldn’t go to bed without him. He made me feel safe. I squeezed him tight when I had night-mares and when I couldn’t sleep I snuggled with him and talked to him until I fell asleep. After a rough day at school, I sat in my room cuddling with my Dumbo until the tears went away. He became my best friend when I didn’t have one. I played with him, I cuddled him, and I confided in him. He was more than a stuffed animal to me.

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Recently my husband took me to see the new movie that just came out of Dumbo. Soon as it came out, I told my husband all about my toy and how much he meant to me. So last Sunday I got a day off and my husband took me to the movie. He wanted to buy me a stuffed Dumbo, but they were all out. He was able to get me a mug instead.

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The movie brought back old memories. I was relived my childhood through the movie. That night we were able to find a stuffed Dumbo online and we ordered it. The next morning I searched our attic and found my old stuffed elephant from my childhood. I began thinking about how much that stuffed elephant gave me comfort and I began thinking about my tools of comfort that I have as an adult.

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I no longer sleep with stuffed animals to get through the night. Instead I find comfort in my husband’s arms. When times are tough, I talk to my friends or I text them. I have my own support team: my husband, my parents, and my friends. The other day my friend Amy talked me through an anxiety attack. She, like my other friends, used what she learned from my blogs to help me.

I have found comfort in my dogs. I’ve had four different dogs in my adult years and each one brought me comfort in it’s own way. The dog I have now, Esther, likes to snuggle on my lap. When I went through surgery for a detached tendon, she didn’t leave my side. When I went through breast cancer, she stayed close. When I’m feeling down, she lies on my lap and nuzzles my hand with her nose until I pet her.

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Our tools of comfort help us cope with a harsh world and awful illnesses like mental illness, breast cancer, and so on. While dealing with chronic pain and other health problems my friend Cheryl finds comfort in taking pictures of birds. A young coworker carries a piece of a toy around with him. It gives him comfort when he’s stressed and anxious.

Find your tools of comfort to help you with your struggles. Jog, talk to friends, do crafts, sleep with a teddy bear, snuggle up with a pet, cuddle a special pillow, or play with a toy. Find whatever it is that helps you cope with mental illness, breast cancer, life, and so on. Whatever it is that helps you deal with the struggles you face in life, use it.

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I use my tools of comfort to face many trials in my life. I found comfort in digging up my old childhood treasure and remembering how important he was to little Aimee. I know there will be ups and downs in life and my tools of comfort will help me bathe in the light of recovery.

OVERPOWERING AN ANXIOUS MIND

Published on by Aimee EddyLeave a comment

The mind is a very powerful part of a person. It’s the mind and the knowledge we collect within it that help us build our lives and our future. Within our mind is intellect, knowledge, thought processes, decision making, creativity, and much more. Of course, the mind is a part of the brain. It’s one of the many functions of the brain. What happens to the mind when small worries and fears grow and grow until they become huge? An anxious mind can be overpowering and debilitating. Anxiety affects the mind and the whole body.

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My anxiety hit me powerfully in college when I fell to the rock bottom of my depression. I lost my cousin in a car accident my senior year of high school and I moved forty-five minutes from my home to live with my grandparents to be closer to college. My friend took notes I wrote her, telling her my deepest feelings and my need for comfort, to her mom and a teacher I had in school. My friend’s mother forbade her to see me, but she snuck out and began abusing me. On top of that, it was stuck in my mind that my grades had to be high because I had to prove to all those who thought I couldn’t do anything that I could succeed.

In the mornings before college the worrying and fears started.

I spent hours doing my homework and studying. I have to get a good grade. I can’t be a failure. I can’t let everyone be right about me. I’m so tired. What if I fall asleep in class? I didn’t study enough. I should have studied longer. I don’t remember what I studied. I forgot everything. I spent hours studying for nothing. I can’t go to classes. I don’t even remember the chapters I read last night.

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I started feeling nauseous. I began to dry heave.

What am I doing in college? I’ll just fail. I hurt my friend with my notes and I’m messing up my one chance to prove myself. Everything in my life is going wrong. I can’t go to my classes. I feel sick. I can’t do anything right. I need to study more. I have to get a high grade. I’m not ready. I need more time. I’m going to fail out of college.

My anxiety kept building as my mind made a small thing like getting a good grade on a homework or test into something huge. The more I worried about my grades in college, the more my body reacted. It started with nausea, dry heaves, and then getting sick. I got sick every morning before class, in between classes, and when I went to see my friend.

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At the time I didn’t understand what was happening to my body. My mom took me to a doctor and he gave me anti-nausea medication, but that didn’t even work. The anxiety didn’t stop until I moved back home and began therapy and the abusive friend moved away.

It wasn’t until many years later I learned what anxiety was. I was happily married, I had been working the same job for several years, and I was managing my illness, yet the nausea, dry heaves and throwing up started up again. Doctors did many tests and found nothing wrong with me. My doctor told me he believed I was having anxiety attacks. I thought he wasn’t taking my problem seriously and he was blaming my mental illness on an illness he couldn’t explain, but when I talked to my therapist, I realized my doctor was right. I started journaling my thoughts.

close up of patient and doctor taking notes

During a normal work day my worries turned to fears and grew throughout the day. It started in the morning before work.

I have to catch the bus on time. I can’t be late. I can’t be late for work. I hope I don’t make a mistake at work. We can’t afford for me to get fired. We’d lose everything if I’m not working. It takes both of our paychecks to pay our bills. If we can’t pay our bills we’d lose our home and everything.

By the middle of my day I was fighting nausea and dry heaves. The worries grew and grew. I began to fear throughout my day that I would make a big mistake and by the end of the day I’d have no job. My body reacted as the anxiety took over. I would fight my dry heaves until I had to get off register to get sick in the bathroom. The worries continued after work. I worried about not having enough money to pay our bills and to make it through the week. My anxious mind overpowered my body, my thoughts, and my feelings.

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Anti-anxiety medication helped a lot, but I also had to practice relaxing techniques like deep breathing, listening to soft music, and doing something I enjoyed. I also had to learn to identify my worries and take control of them before they overtook me. Recently my best friend Cheryl sent me a post about grounding. Now I keep the grounding techniques on my phone and when my anxious mind becomes overpowering, I use them.

If your anxious mind is overpowering, talk to your doctor or psychiatrist about anti-anxiety medications and talk to a therapist about coping and relaxation techniques. Learn to identify your worries and fears, then work on ways to stop them from getting bigger and bigger. When the worry starts, tell yourself, “Stop. You have worried enough. Now focus on something else.”

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Try grounding techniques like: look around you, find five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste. Find this and more grounding techniques at https://www.redorbit.com/grounding-techniques-for-anxiety/.

With the help of medication, grounding techniques, and relaxation methods, my anxiety is pretty much under control. Sometimes it gets the best of me, but because I’m willing to fight it, my anxious mind no longer overpowers my life. Since I’m willing to work hard to calm my anxiety, I strive within the light of recovery.