The 10 Best Things I’ve Ever Done For My Mental Health

When I got my first mental illness diagnosis in high school (seasonal affective disorder), I was bewildered. Up until then I had thought of myself as an eminently sane person, always sharp and on top of things. I’ve learned so much in the years since – not least of which, that mentally ill people can still be incredibly sharp and on top of things!

While I got that first diagnosis nearly a decade and a half ago, I haven’t always been great at managing my symptoms or processing my feelings. It’s been a slow learning process, and I still have a lot of work to do. But incase this is helpful info for any of you, here are the 10 biggest things I’ve done to improve my sense of mental and emotional balance and calm. A lot of these things are immensely complicated, though they may sound simple – but regardless, I’m glad to have done every single one of them.

Went on meds. This is an obvious one but it’s one you should at least consider if you’ve never tried it. For a long time I avoided asking my doctors about depression medication because I thought my low moods were mostly circumstantial, not neurochemical – but I eventually learned that depression easily masquerades as a simple reaction to shitty circumstances in your life. I went on sertraline (generic Zoloft) for a short period, but the sexual side effects (for me: genital numbness and inability to orgasm) were a dealbreaker. Years later, I went on bupropion (Wellbutrin), one of the only depression meds not known to cause sexual side effects. I’ve been on it for over a year now, and while I definitely still have my depressed days, overall my mood is markedly better.

Got a SAD lamp. Well, more accurately, my parents got me a SAD lamp – in 2007. Remarkably, it still works today even though I’ve never replaced the lightbulbs?! Well-played, Day-Light. This useful gadget shines bright, specially-toned light in your face, and is known to alleviate depression for some people, especially those with seasonal affective disorder. When I’m feeling lethargic and gloomy, I’ll often sit at my desk and read, write, or watch something on my computer while the lamp is on. About 30-45 minutes of daily lamp time does wonders for my mood and energy levels.

Moved out of an unhealthy living environment… and into a room with a much bigger window. A twofer! My last roommate, for reasons partly under her control, regularly aggravated my mental and physical health problems with her habits and behaviors. Maybe other people could live with her, but I sure couldn’t, so I got out of there and moved in with a friend – and I’ve felt much calmer, happier, and healthier since then. It helps that almost one entire wall of my current room is taken up by a ginormous window, since – as we’ve discussed – my depression is very responsive to light or lack thereof.

Started using marijuana medicinally. I mean, I use it recreationally too. But becoming aware of its potential therapeutic benefits for my particular body and brain was a game-changer. High-CBD strains are great when my anxiety throws me off the rails, while more THC-centric strains enable me to rediscover joy, laughter, and pleasure when I’m so depressed that these things feel inaccessible. Weed also helps enormously with my chronic pain – so, while I can’t really use it when I’m working and need to stay sharp, on many difficult days it helps me push through my physical and emotional symptoms so I can function and get stuff done.

Learned CBT techniques in therapy. I’ve been to several different therapists and most of them weren’t that helpful to me, honestly. I never found it terribly useful to talk through my day-to-day trials and tribulations with someone who lacked the proper context and knowledge to really help me (e.g. a familiarity with polyamory or kink). Cognitive-behavioral therapy, on the other hand, involves “homework” – assignments, whether written down or more experiential, that help you practice cognitive strategies for improving your moods and your life. Not everyone finds CBT beneficial, largely because it presupposes that your mental discomfort is at least partly the result of errors in thinking, rather than having a neurochemical basis. But errors in thinking do contribute to my depression and anxiety, and correcting those errors using CBT is often markedly helpful for me.

Codified my coping strategies. By which I mean: wrote them down in many places where I’ll see them every day, and eventually memorized some of them such that they will usually come to mind as plausible options even when I’m too depressed to think. This might sound small and obvious, but it’s not – my depressed brain is very bad at knowing how to even take small steps toward improving how I feel, so it’s important that I keep practicing and reminding myself of the coping strategies that work, in any way I can.

Subscribed to several podcasts I love. Podcasts are one of the first distractions I turn to when I need to take my mind off my emotional malaise. They pull me out of my own brain and absorb me with their stories and jokes. Whether I’m listening to a comedy advice show hosted by genial brothers, a sharp play-by-play of a famous historical incident, or a roast of a terrible movie, podcasts make me feel less alone, and less wrapped up in my own problems.

Strengthened my journaling habit. I’ve always journaled, but since developing mental health conditions, I’ve started to view this practice as less optional and more necessary. Emotional processing is immensely valuable, and I also like being able to look back at old journal entries and see that the things I was so scared about, or depressed by, rarely turned out to be as bad as they seemed. That knowledge and perspective gives me strength I would otherwise find hard to access.

Committed to daily to-do lists. Alexandra Franzen calls hers a checklist; call yours whatever you want! All I know is that before I started keeping a to-do list every weekday – which, incidentally, my dominant has access to – I was much more scattered than I am now. I had less of a sense of what needed to get done, and accordingly, less of a sense of how much I’d truly achieved by the end of a long day – and how much celebration that merited! Checking items off a list gives the brain a hit of dopamine that can be really calming and centering, for a depressed person or really for anyone. I highly recommend it.

Started talking about mental health with my loved ones more regularly. I feel like it’s become much more acceptable to discuss this kind of thing, publicly and privately, over the past decade or two. Although I am sometimes tempted to keep my struggles internal so I don’t have to trouble anyone else with them, I always feel better after talking through my moods with a trusted pal, partner, or family member. Their support is monumental.

What strategies have helped you most with your mental health?

12 Days of Girly Juice 2019: 6 Journal Entries

I didn’t journal as much in 2019 as I usually do, in part because I was super busy and seemingly constantly traveling… That said, here are 6 of my fave journal entries from the year. They’re all, um, mostly variations on a theme, you could say…

January 1st

Late one night I got a bit panicky and started to feel derealization-y, like I might not be real or Matt might not be (hello, irrational delusions borne of insecurity, my old friends), and they were so good: they had me tell them the story of how we met so I’d remember we are real, and then they gave me a long, thorough, skillful, cathartic spanking while I wept it all out.

We stayed up until 4 a.m. after getting home from the New Year’s Eve party at 1 a.m., having sex and talking and laughing and basically trying to stretch out the last remaining hours before we had to check out of the hotel and say goodbye. They told me, at one point, that they feel like we “fit” together so well – “sexually, intellectually, emotionally, comedically” – that we understand each other and just “get” each other. “It’s not even blind optimism anymore at this point,” they said. “We’re a year in. It’s real.” I didn’t want to go to sleep. I wanted to stay there, giggling with them in the liminal space that is a hotel bed at 3 a.m. on New Year’s with someone you love in a city that isn’t your own.

Today, close to goodbye time, I cried, and they licked my tears off my face and told me how cool it would be to rim a drink with their submissive’s salty tears (what a perv). I said, “I don’t want to be without you,” and they told me I’m not without them; we’ll still be together even when we’re apart, like always. On New Year’s Eve they ordered two glasses of champagne for us at Augustine and raised a toast to “an amazing year, and many more” – so certain about it, in a way I’ve never been able to be, and it made me cry, just like it does when they sense my fear and grab my face and stare seriously into my eyes and say, “I’m not going anywhere.” I cried in the taxi and said, “We match, right?” – our code-phrase for “We are both feeling these intense feelings for each other, right?” – and they said, “Oh, 100%.”

February 15th

I had the mini-revelation recently that part of the reason I’ve been semi-unconsciously drawn to unrequited love dynamics my whole life might be that they provide me what seems like a socially acceptable justification for my ever-present melancholy. It’s, in some ways, even harder to accept my depression now that I’m in essentially my dream career and my dream relationship, because evidently nothing is causing this sadness but my own damn brain.

May 30th

I’ve spent a lot of time wondering why I have such fucked-up abandonment/anxious attachment issues when I wasn’t abused or abandoned as a kid and was actually really loved and sheltered and protected. I don’t remember when exactly these feelings first surfaced, but I know they’re related to S___, G___, and C___. From those relationships, I learned that someone can abandon you:

  • unexpectedly and totally out of the blue
  • very expectedly
  • for things you can’t change
  • for reasons you’ll never know
  • even after promising they wouldn’t
  • even knowing you have abandonment issues
  • even if you’ve known them for a long time
  • for someone else
  • for no one else
  • even if they seemed to like or love you

It feels like there’s not a single condition under which I’m safe from being abandoned. And the work I need to do is becoming okay with that reality, and being able to trust enough to function in relationships even with that possibility being present. My fears of abandonment are just trying to protect me, the emotional thought process being that if I can see the hurt coming before it hits, I can spare myself the heartache. But that’s false because, even in relationships where I constantly suspected I was about to be dumped, the dumping hurt just as bad. It’s going to hurt whether you forecast it or not.

I jump a lot to catastrophizing – “They’re going to leave me and therefore I’m not safe” – and I need to moreso encourage the thought, “What if they’re going to stay with me and I’m safe?” There’s much more evidence of that. It’s just hard to convince a traumatized brain of these things.

August 2nd

I’ve probably written this before but I feel as if my life has been tugging me toward New York since I was about ten years old. I wanted to live there for a long time, first to become a musical theatre performer and later just because I liked it there. But as I got older I came to understand that the immigration process and the expense of the city probably would keep me here. I love Toronto, after all, and my life here, and my friends and family, and the Canadian healthcare system, and this city’s largely positive attitudes toward queerness and kink and multiculturalism. I could stay here and be happy, except that I wouldn’t be with Matt.

A person I’m in love with is pretty much the only force that could drag me to another country at this point, and it almost feels like Matt was sent to me to (among other things) usher me into that city I’ve half-wanted to live in for so long. They’ve told me that if and when I decide to move there, they will make it their number-one project to figure out how to make that happen.

The problem of trying to get me there is the biggest and scariest thing in my life right now, but it’s a good problem to have. And I know that in Matt I have a partner who is willing to go basically to the ends of the earth to unite us on a more permanent basis.

September 2nd

Having kind of a dissociate-y day where it’s difficult for me to grasp that Matt is really my partner. They’re so beautiful and perfect that often in the early days of our relationship, and still sometimes even now, I had the sense that my life wasn’t really my life but was actually a movie I was watching, perhaps through the slitted eyes of a mask, perhaps in some kind of virtual-reality simulation that inserted me into someone else’s story like a Mary Sue in a piece of fanfiction. It’s odd to hear someone gorgeous, brilliant and accomplished describe you in those terms too when you don’t, to your core, believe them about yourself. For these nearly 2 years my life has felt sort of like a wrong classroom I walked into accidentally and just never left.

October 18th

It’s 2019 and I have been dating Matt for 22 months and I am still sometimes convinced I’m going to wake up from this dream. This life is not dreamy in the idyllic sense – I fight off psoriasis and chronic pain, I struggle sometimes to make my rent, I fight with friends and cry in bed and spend too much time on Twitter – but this one part of it feels like a dream, my connection with Matt. I feel like two kids stacked inside a trench coat, pretending to be a competent adult who’s good at relationships, pretending this relationship is just a normal and expected thing and not an earth-shattering inferno that exploded my life into something bigger and better. I keep waiting for my beloved to find me out or leave or disintegrate. But they ruffle my hair and say “I’m not going anywhere, kiddo,” and I can breathe for another few hours.

Together we regularly interrogate the concept of “deserving” love, deserving this relationship. Love isn’t transferrable like money or a contest prize: I don’t have to deserve it to have it. I have Matt’s love because they want to give it to me and specifically me, and that’s true even on days when I feel utterly undeserving. Telling them I don’t deserve them isn’t nice, is actually mean: it’s saying I doubt their taste and dismiss their agency, pushing them away, telling them one of their biggest and most central feelings is irrational and ill-informed. I should learn to accept their love like a compliment: say “thank you” and smile, even if you don’t agree, even if you don’t believe. They are entitled to their opinion and their opinion is that I’m worth loving. Somehow.


Got any favorite journal entries from 2019 to share?

12 Days of Girly Juice 2019: 8 Brilliant Books

This instalment of 12 Days of Girly Juice used to highlight my favorite things I tweeted all year, but you know what? I’d rather talk about books. (However, if you were wondering, my favorite tweets of the year were definitely this one and this one.)

I read 40+ books this year and loved lots of them, so this is hard – but here are my 8 top picks!

You Know You Want This by Kristen Roupenian

From the author of the viral story “Cat Person” came this tour de force, a collection of short stories about the complexity of consent. Within these pages are several tricky fictional situations centering around sexual sadism, relational autonomy, erotic humiliation, and more. Several times while reading this book, I had to put it down and ponder: What do I think this character should have done, ethically? What decision would I have made in this situation? This book is so timely, what with the concept of consent being debated and dissected all over the place due to the #MeToo movement, and I think these stories are useful thought exercises for those of us concerned with parsing what consent and non-consent really mean, and what their limitations might be.

The Collected Schizophrenias by Esmé Weijun Wang

When I first read Esmé’s essay “Perdition Days” years ago, I thought it was one of the most striking things I’d ever read. It chronicles her time living with Cotard’s delusion, a belief that (in her case) one is dead, and that the people in one’s life are merely purgatory’s facsimiles of their living counterparts. Esmé painted an incredibly affecting picture of what this delusion felt like from the inside, and how it impacted those around her. She went on to write The Collected Schizophrenias, a collection of essays (including “Perdition Days”) which discuss her life with chronic mental and physical illness, and the various dilemmas and struggles therewith. I found myself crying on the subway while reading Esmé weigh the decision to have kids or stay childless; I marveled at her reporting on chronic lime disease and the way its sufferers are frequently dismissed and disbelieved; I revelled in the bravery it must have taken for her to write about these things, and the artfulness with which she has done so. This book has stuck with me in ways I can’t even articulate, and I’m so glad it exists.

High Heel by Summer Brennan

You won’t read a more thorough history of the high heel than this – but this book is so much more than that. It discusses the iconic shoe in relation to politics, gender, sexuality, pain, music, film, fashion, and more. I notice people’s shoes a lot more now than I did before reading this book – and I’m more intentional about my own choices in that regard, too. I like Summer’s nuanced conclusion that high heels aren’t necessarily oppressive and evil like many feminists argue – they can instead be a freely chosen expression of identity that many people find affirming and uplifting.

Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up With Me by Mariko Tamaki and Rosemary Valero-O’Connell

I saw this book retweeted onto my Twitter timeline and my interest was immediately piqued. A gorgeously illustrated story about queer high-school heartbreak? Yes please! I cried multiple times while reading this immensely beautiful graphic novel, because the feelings of rejection, insecurity, unworthiness, and ultimately resilience were so familiar to me, from both my queer relationships and my “straight” ones. The pleasure of reading this book was equal parts emotional, intellectual, aesthetic, and tactile – a rare thing!

Building Open Relationships by Dr. Liz Powell

If you read only one book on non-monogamy, make it this one. Dr. Liz lays out all the common pitfalls of this relationship style and how to deal with them. Their book is written with compassion and vulnerability, and is full of useful stories from Liz’s own dating life that illustrate the principles they teach. I feel much more equipped to handle non-monogamy after reading this book, and I’ve recommended it to countless people. It’s just that good.

Night Film by Marisha Pessl

I love a good murder-mystery, and that’s exactly what this novel is. An investigative journalist sets his sights on figuring out why and how the daughter of a prominent horror movie director died. In the process, he picks up a couple of sidekicks, wanders through revered movie sets, chats with a drug-addled movie star, breaks into abandoned buildings, swans around Manhattan penthouses, sneaks onto an estate in a canoe, and basically just gets up to some good old-fashioned hijinks. Marisha Pessl is a gifted (and often hilarious) writer, and I was captivated by this story from beginning to end.

Trick Mirror by Jia Tolentino

This book got a lot of attention around its launch, and for good reason. Tolentino’s painstakingly constructed essays dive into precarious topics like the wedding industrial complex, the absurdity of reality TV, activewear as capitalist fetishwear, and more. Every piece in this book is incisive, witty, evocative, and meticulously researched. Reading it probably made me smarter, and definitely made me feel smarter.

The Wagers by Sean Michaels

I’m biased because Sean is my cousin, but this novel is really extraordinary. It’s primarily about luck – what does it mean to be lucky, and how can one become moreso? – but is also about love, and family, and fame, and privilege, and the grocery business. I love a twisty plot, and this one frequently made me shout “OH SHIT” while reading in cafés or on the subway (whoops). I fell in love with the characters of this strange novel, and couldn’t wait to find out what would happen to them next.

What were your favorite books you read this year?

10 Ways Vibrators Can Be Therapeutic (+ a Giveaway!)

Photo via Bellesa

It would be easy to think, comparing my work to that of my journalism-school colleagues now reporting on business and politics, that what I do is comparatively frivolous. Sex writing is, after all, largely about fun and pleasure – or at least, that’s how it’s often perceived from the outside. In reality, many people writing about sex today delve into hugely important sub-topics of that realm, like health justice, trauma, education policy, and gender inequality. Sex is no small thing, and it never has been.

That’s why today I wanted to highlight for you 10 ways that people use vibrators therapeutically. As with all medical suggestions you read online, you should run these by your doctor and/or therapist before trying them – and if you do, I hope you find them helpful!

Toning the pelvic floor

Pelvic muscle contractions, the likes of which are experienced during orgasm and high levels of arousal, strengthen the muscles they employ. These muscles’ fitness is responsible for longer and stronger orgasms, yes, but also for preventing pelvic health issues like urinary incontinence.

Healing from trauma

My friend Sarah Brynn Holliday has written about how sex toys can be instrumental in rediscovering pleasure after sexual trauma. A sex toy you know well is controllable in a way that human partners are not, so when you need or want to control your sexual experience to avoid triggering or re-traumatizing yourself as best as you can, sex toys can be helpful.

Alleviating menopause symptoms

For some people, menopause causes the onset of “vulvovaginal atrophy,” wherein decreased estrogen levels in vaginal tissue cause the vagina to become dry, irritated, and sore. The vaginal walls may become thinner, leading to painful sex, especially sans lube. Gynecology professor Dr. Mary Jane Minkin told the Huffington Post in 2013 that vibrators stimulate increased pelvic blood flow, potentially alleviating these symptoms. Some of the menopausal women in my life have also found it psychologically helpful to masturbate more as they age, since our culture tends to harmfully frame older women as unsexual and unsexy (boooo!).

Managing depression

This is a big one for me. It doesn’t always work, but sometimes administering an orgasm through the use of a vibrator can kickstart the production of some happy neurotransmitters and thereby lift my mood. This is especially helpful given that, in the throes of a depressive episode, I often find my own genitals unsettling to touch – so it’s a godsend to be able to hold a vibrator against my pajama pants and get off without grossing myself out or upsetting myself further.

Massaging muscles

We all know about this one – especially since the famous Magic Wand Original (née Hitachi Magic Wand) was developed for sore muscles. This way of using vibrators has become particularly important to me since I developed chronic pain, and I’m so glad it’s an available option.

Increasing desire

There seems to be a “horniness begets horniness” effect at work in many people’s sex lives. It’s what sex researcher Emily Nagoski refers to as “responsive desire,” which she affirms is a normal way of experiencing your sexual appetite, despite the medical community’s historical insistence on misdiagnosing this as “hypoactive sexual desire disorder” or straight-up “frigidity.” In any case, if your sex drive is lower than you would like it to be, regular usage of vibrators is recommended by some doctors to boost your libido. Worth a shot!

Pleasure after injury

Several studies, for example, have noted vibrators’ ability to provoke sexual response even in people who have sustained spinal cord injuries that otherwise inhibit their sensitivity and functioning. This seems to be discussed most often in the context of obtaining semen from disabled men so they can father children, rather than in the context of pleasure or satisfaction, but its implications are encouraging nonetheless.

Combating vaginismus

Vaginismus is a vaginal pain condition in which involuntary pelvic muscle spasms make penetrative sex extremely painful or outright impossible. Vaginal dilators of steadily increasing size are one oft-recommended intervention for vaginismus, and these pair well with vibrators, both because vibration helps muscles relax and because pleasure can gradually overwrite the patient’s mental associations between sex and pain.

Mending relationships

Granted, a vibrator alone is not going to solve your relationship problems – interpersonal connections have too many complex layers for “quick fixes” to do any good. But if, for example, one partner has trouble relaxing into pleasurable sex due to stress in their life, or someone’s inability to orgasm has become a point of friction in the relationship, or your sexual connection has simply grown stale and rote, the addition of a vibrator could help. There will be other mental/psychological/interpersonal work to do, too, but you’ve gotta start somewhere. (Just please don’t buy a vibrator out of the blue for a partner who has never expressed any interest in owning one. This is coercive, presumptuous, and weird!)

Post-breakup self-care

For me, the saddest part of a breakup is always the idea that not only have I lost the love/companionship/pleasure I achieved with my ex, but also that I might never find those things again with anyone else. This is obviously bullshit, but it’s a very persuasive idea to a grieving brain. Vibrators have always helped me at this time: I know that even if my latest paramour has fucked off, I can still make myself come, and that’s powerful. It’s sometimes the first step toward rediscovering my own strength, resilience, and potential.


If, after reading all that, you’re thinking, “I’ve gotta get me a vibrator,” you’re in luck – the fine folks at Bellesa are offering up a Nirvana wand vibrator for one lucky reader in North America! Bellesa focuses on making sex toys for women, but of course, anyone of any gender and body type can use a vibrator, especially one as versatile as the Nirvana. It’s a rechargeable, waterproof, silicone wand vibe, and you can use it on any external erogenous zone that enjoys vibration. Yay!

Here’s how to enter: 1) follow @BellesaCo on Instagram, 2) follow me (@Girly_Juice) on Instagram, and 3) leave a comment on this Instagram post of mine answering the question “What’s one way you think vibrators can be therapeutic?” and tagging a friend. The giveaway will run for a week, and then I’ll pick a random winner. Please note that you must be over 18 and must live in North America to win. Good luck!

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

Do I Want Kids? Part 1: Mental Health

Am I too crazy to have kids?

This question haunts me. I’m embarrassed at how often it flits through my head. When I get sucked down into the whirlpool of depression or anxiety, those moods pose a question which only serves to perpetuate them: Are you too fucked-up to ever get the things you want? And of course, in the throes of sadness and fear, “yes” is the only answer I can fathom.

There are times when my mental health is so bad that I can barely take care of myself – food, sleep, hygiene – so it’s scary to imagine trying to take care of someone else at those times. How can you be responsible for another human being if you’re crying too hard to get up off the floor, or if the world beyond your bed feels too scary to contemplate?

I’ve heard many a horror story from people whose parents raised them in a maelstrom of mental illness. Children of the severely depressed can be neglected; children of the deeply anxious can absorb compulsive fears; children of people with personality disorders can grow up hurt and confused, unable to truly trust anyone. Of course, these stories aren’t universal, and I probably know just as many people whose parents struggled with mental illness and who nonetheless turned out fine, but it’s hard to tune out these narratives when you’re scared they could come true for you.

I’d like to think my co-parent would be a relatively sane, grounded person, to help balance me out. (As much as I admire folks who raise kids solo, that doesn’t seem emotionally or financially tenable for me.) But then you risk creating an off-kilter family dynamic where one person is over-relied upon to prop up everyone else, psychologically and logistically, and that’s not fair at all. Maybe this is an area where polyamory could be an advantage: a solid support network of de facto other parents could take some pressure off. They do say it takes a village to raise a child, after all. The results of a legal paternity test can tell you a lot, but they’re not the whole picture, and a parent or guardian obviously doesn’t have to be genetically or legally related to a kid to assist in raising that kid.

Even supposing that I could overcome my own craziness enough to take care of a child – and/or rely on the help of other, steadier humans – I would still worry about transmitting that craziness to my kid. Some varieties of DNA test can predict whether a person might develop certain mental illnesses, but even if I went the adoption route, I’d still be concerned my negative thought patterns and tendency to overreact to emotional stimuli would get passed on to my little one through sheer osmosis. I would have to be careful and deliberate in the ways I chose to behave around them, and the values and habits I let them pick up – though I suppose that’s true for any parent. You probably want to clean up your act around someone you’re raising, to some extent, whether by quitting smoking or cutting back on profane language or, yes, consciously dialling back your “crazy” behaviors if you can. Hell, doing this might even help me feel less crazy, too.

That said, I don’t think it’s all bad for a mentally ill person to raise a child. Hell, both my parents struggle with depression and anxiety, and if anything, it just made them more empathetic when I started to notice my own psychological symptoms. I’ve also learned about cognitive-behavioral therapy and dialectical behavior therapy while getting treated for my mental illnesses, and these are useful frameworks for anyone seeking to moderate and process their feelings. I could teach these systems to my kid(s), and maybe then they would have an easier time with childhood’s classically outsized emotions, like sadness, rage, and restlessness. Increased emotional literacy is one of the major silver linings I’ve found in my struggles with depression and anxiety, so I may as well try to impart it on my spawn.

It’s also worth noting that depression and anxiety don’t necessarily preclude you from being loving and supportive; you may just show your love and support in different ways than a neurotypical person, depending on how your symptoms manifest. I can still be there for loved ones when I’m having a rough time. It definitely looks different than my emotional support does when I’m feeling better – there’s fewer words of wisdom and more sitting in silence and solidarity – but it’s still a form of love. As the brilliant Carly Boyce pointed out in a suicide intervention workshop of hers that I attended, sometimes a person in distress doesn’t need you to pull them out of that distress – they just need you to keep them company until the feeling passes. As someone well-versed in distress, I could certainly do that for my kid.

So, am I too crazy to have kids? I don’t know. I don’t think it’s off the table entirely. I think, in order to feel comfortable taking that step, I would first have to feel stable in my medication regimen, brush up on my CBT and DBT skills, and have a relatively settled, dependable social support structure. But once those things were in place, I might just become a hyper-empathetic – if chronically frazzled – mom.

 

This 3-part series on parenthood was generously sponsored by the folks at TestMeDNA.com. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.