The first time I went to a psychiatrist, I was mortified. I was referred for psychiatric symptoms postpartum by military doctors.
The psychiatrist was way older and likely had limiting beliefs about borderline personality disorder. He shamed me for things beyond my control on trigger sensitive topics.
He made me feel inadequate and disempowered.
I didn’t think I could accept help from him while being treated the way I was. So, I left the office and vowed my life to figuring it out myself for the sake of my child(ren).
I thought it was just a mindset issue, so my cure would be to read a lot of self help books. One year I had a goal to read 100 books in 1 year. I ended up only reading 30 or so books over a few months. That's why when I tell you I tried to figure it out myself, I really mean it.
As my child(ren) grew, I began to get triggered by my kid(s). I was feeling agitated and overwhelmed frequently and had no clue ...
A group of seven EMTs showed up to my front door. Not again I thought to myself, feeling guilty as I saw my husband’s face saying the same thing.
My husband just got home from a long night shift and was shocked by what he came home to. His wife, the only caretaker for his children, is in a crisis. He was stressed because he knew he wasn’t going to get sleep that day and he wasn’t sure when I would be feeling stable again. He wasn’t used to being the sole caretaker of a 4 year old, a 3 year old, and a 6 month old.
Ideally, I would have loved to show my children how to use mindfulness, interpersonal skills, and distress tolerance but this was a crisis, which is defined by an event when skills aren’t working.
Now, let me clarify. I wasn’t preparing to do harm to myself or others. I had just had a medication change that was causing my anxiety to act up and I couldn’t articulate, much less execute, a plan to get my own...
You get up in the morning. Your sleepless night, tossing and turning, has left you tired and drained. Isn’t sleep suppose to give you energy? Whatever, you’ve never been a morning person anyways.
You sit up, and in that moment, you dread getting out of bed. The pile of clothes on the floor looks like a mountain, your dresser has random objects on it, perhaps makeup, wallet, keys, unopened mail from 6 months ago. You sigh as you dread getting ready for work or school. You somehow manage to make your way to the kitchen to make yourself some coffee. You look in the sink and there’s a pile of dirty dishes, the counter isn’t clean from preparing dinner the evening before, and there are no clean mugs for your coffee. You decide you’re going to spend $8 on a cup of coffee at the local Starbucks drive through on your way to work instead. Then you decide to do something nice and buy coffee from a local coffee shop instead of Starbucks. Support small...