When I requested electroshock (also known as electroconvulsive therapy or ECT) from my psychiatrist, she was shocked that I was actually requesting it. Nearly every medical professional I spoke to on my ECT journey made a concerted effort to sing its praises and try to convince me to stick with it. I didn’t need convincing, and I am incredibly glad that I stuck with it. ECT has helped me in ways that no other treatment has, lifting me out of a 15+ year fog of depression and making me much more capable of functioning like a “normal” adult.
Somewhere in my house, there is a CD. My spouse knows where it is, but I do not. Intentionally. This CD contains our wedding photos. I can’t bear to look at them. We’ve been married a year, now, and I still can’t look at them. You see, our wedding… Sucked. We got married, sure, but […]
I try to speak openly about my battle with depression, and it is the time of year where I tend to be at my worst. This season is no different, and the last few weeks have been a struggle to accomplish my day-to-day tasks. Still, even with my attempts to be open and unashamed of my mental health, it was hard to bring my daughter to therapy with me. I never had the intention of bringing her. However, I had my usual therapy session scheduled on one of her approximately 148 snow days this year. My first thought was to cancel the session, but I realized the only reason I was going to do this was some ambiguous sense of discomfort…
I’m a tattooed mom with blue hair who loves her family and teenage kids and live in a home full of love. Recently we’ve been working through challenges relating to mental illness — minor but requiring therapy and medication. I’ve lost some friends over it, people who could overlook the superficial style stuff, until it seemed less superficial.
My wardrobe has toned down a LOT in the six years we’ve lived here — but should I go back to being a brunette who tends to stick with long sleeves in the summer for the sake of my teen daughters?
When I found out Anthony Bourdain took his own life, I was in shock. I still am. I cried all day. I’m crying now. My shock doesn’t come from a place of ignorance; I have clinical depression myself, and I’ve been medicated for a couple of years. I’ve worked hard to change my habits so that they help my mental health. Overall, it’s working. But there are still days, weeks, months when things are bleak…
I was just a regular teenage girl one moment and then a wreck the next. All I had to worry about in life was what outfit I would have to wear to school the next day and what grades I got in my classes. But that all changed in just one day.
My mom had been going through a rough patch and her depression had gotten the worst of her. One day she just vanished into thin air…
I have a friend with severe social anxiety and depression. He lives with his mom now, doesn’t leave the house, and I (and all of our shared friends) haven’t seen him in about two years. All of our attempts to email/call/visit haven’t worked and he won’t reply. I know he’s in therapy, but I’d love to help him if I can.
Is there any way I can reach out in a way that would feel safe for him?
I am a Residential Therapist and a recent graduate. And I have concern about how to address my self-harm scars to my clients.
I have considered surgery for the major scars and tattoos for the minor scars. Looking for insight from others in the professional or helping field.