MAKING MENTAL HEALTH MY BITCH
Updated: Oct 18
Dolls, in Australia, October is Mental Health Month. I never realise how much we lack mental health discussion in our society until it reaches October and suddenly I'm like 'Oh, OK, so we do know how to spread awareness and reduce shame but we just decide to keep mental health taboo for the remaining 11 months of the year.' So I figured that mental health month is the best time to provide my tips for how I stay on top of things and make mental health 'my bitch' for those full 12 months.
I SUCK at self-care.
I didn't always. Throughout my later teen years I developed a hyper-awareness of my self-worth which led to my OCD and eating disorder diagnoses becoming the most severe they'd ever been. This had two major effects on my ability to engage in self-care activities. The first was that the more restrictive my intake and the more obsessive my thinking behaviours, the more malnourished and cleanly I became. Instead of a small part of my brain telling me I wasn't worthy of nice things, 24/7, my entire brain was consumed by that belief. Soon, I tallied how many self-care activities I engaged in, felt guilty if I'd done 'too much' of it and perpetually felt like I didn't deserve it. The second was that I suddenly feared many of the components involved in the self-care activities I engaged in. I'm hesitant to use moisturising creams, experience the physical touch and endure body exposure found in activities such as massages, nail and hair salon appointments and eyebrow waxing. If you've suffered from OCD or an eating disorder, you'll know that living with them feels like a form of torture. Coupled with my abstinence from things I once loved, the torture felt all-encompassing. I began imposing questions upon myself during moments I caught sight of its unnecessity and ludicrousy such as seeing how others experienced mindless joy at the mall or with their friends. I decided that my mental illnesses alone were enough fear for one person by themselves. I decided that these additional fears that branched off from them were forcing me to live a life that was considered unmemorable. I had to force myself to change my actions and I did this by dedicating one day of every week to having one self-care activity integrated into it.
I would rather live in temporary discomfort than inevitable lifelessness.
To me, there is no dopamine hit as instantaneous and true as being in the presence of animals. I've always loved animals with my whole heart. Their purity, forgiveness and endless affection are to me, infectious, fulfilling and calming. Though it is not much of a task, I have made incorporating exposure to animals a critical, required step in making mental health my bitch. Seriously... I cannot make mental health my bitch if I don't make animal therapy a non-negotiable. I'd say it is the most important, most effective and most easy rule to follow. All I do is make sure I often see my family puppy, my sweet Archie, cuddle a stray dog I spot on the street or organise a date with a friend who owns a pet. See, Dolls, it really is cute to start making mental health your bitch.
When you have anorexia, you get used to saying 'no'. Once enjoyable activities become too complex and difficult, such as eating out or dancing for hours on end at nightclubs. The nature of the illness is to be very isolating, reducing your world to restriction, conservation of energy and overrall, fear. It's also common for anorexia to enduce or enhance depression and anxiety, making leaving the house and having a good time with others especially hard sometimes. Equally, you begin to believe that the burden your illness has on you is also a burden on everyone around you. You feel that by removing yourself from events, you provide everyone else with a more free and happy time. And so, suddenly saying 'no' becomes yours default answer, even before you've really thought about the invitation and whether or not you'd like to go. But if I've learnt one thing in the time I've had anorexia, it is that those who truly love you hurt in the way you do, feel unhappy in the way you do and yearn in the way you do when you say 'no' and crawl into the depth of the cave that is your illness. Their heart fills up when you say 'yes' because they know that for just a moment you get to be a part of their world, the world they want you to be a part of, the one extending beyond anorexia. There are many times when I want to say 'yes', but anorexia makes me say no. Throughout my battle with anorexia, adhering to its wishes and saying 'no' may be fine with me but it's not just my potential memories that never form, it's also the ones of those I love. So to counteract this pattern, I force myself to say 'yes' in a moment that I want to say 'no' at least once a week to live a life that incorporates Luka and my friends and family. For else, I fear when I look back at my life, it will be a very lonely, small past. In my opinion, making mental health my bitch in this way is a boss move because for once a week I overcome the little bitch that is anorexia.
I cannot make mental health a bitch if I'm a bitch. And trust me, I most certainly am in the mornings, just ask, basically, everyone who knows me. The only exception to this is being woken up by my dad with his special morning hugs. It's kind of impossible to be cranky when you see the man you love most in the world smiling at you as you first open your eyes. But enough sweetness, I need you Dolls, to understand the gravity of my RBF (resting bitch face) if I haven't had a proper sleep or before I've had caffeine. All jokes aside, since my malnourishment became extreme and my childhood trauma began to creep on me, sleep would terrorise me so much so that I spent the daylight fearring the time I would have to go to sleep. Medication became my only option. Even now, on three different types of medication, for nightmare abolishment and sleep assistance, it is still not uncommon for me to wake up my household at 3 am, screaming in petrophilia and agony. However, medication remains the only chance I get at attempting to make mental health my bitch. Even if I endure nightmares, if I get an adequate length of uninterrupted sleep, I'm not only a lot nicer before my morning caffeine, but I'm a gem after it!
I make mental health my bitch not just for my sake and of those in my life but to show you, Dolls, that it is possible to overturn what is painful into something magical, even in the presence of chronic mental illness. It is absolutely not always easy but I hope in the lightness of this post, you manage to imagine, even just for a moment, that it's not as challenging as your heady makes it out to be. I'll make you a promise, Dolls, if you make mental health your bitch, I'll make it mine!
Hugs & Kisses,
Cos xo
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