I consider myself active in the mental health community. What I mean by that is I continually research not just medical developments but also radical self-care. I apply what I learn to the interactions I have with my peers and tend to have a vastly less-stigmatized perspective of mental health than most (at least in my experience). However, my motto has always been: I am here for you, but I am here for myself first.
Lately I have been struggling with the burden of others’ mental health. I appreciate the differences of the people I surround myself with, but along with these different backgrounds and life-experiences come different behaviors. They are learned, they are historical, they are accustomed. They are no one’s “fault”. Yet, even with my understanding of this, I find difficulty leveling with the need to constantly be rescued that I am witnessing among some mental health circles.
I mean, I’ve had a pet cat pretty much my entire life. I can remember when I was in kindergarten a stray cat had kittens under our trailer and we took them in. We named the momma Robin because she was dark with a red belly like the bird. When my parents were going through a divorce, I became super attached to our black cat, Figaro. He was so fat his belly rubbed on the floor when he walked. He didn’t do much but he was intuitive and would always come snuggle when I wasn’t feeling well. I was giving him a bath when he had a heartattack. Then, after a nasty fight with my dad he tried to reconcile by adopting another black cat named Shaft. He quickly became “my cat” and even slept on my head at night. Continue reading →
It’s an overdue step, but I am finally in therapy. When I announced that I had an appointment to my sister, who coincidentally has been to therapy herself, she asked “What FOR!?” as if I had needed to have a … Continue reading →