Recovery Series Part Two: an unwanted teacher

So here we go. Answering the question: what helped me recover?

I already hear a voice in my head yelling, “Whoah, back up, are you even recovered? Answer that question first!” Aha, no fear, I know the answer to this one: “yes and no, duh”. Now let’s move on, Perfectionism.

Earlier I dedicated a series of posts to the support of friends and family (Walk With Me), which I argue is the biggest factor in recovery. Friends and family can provide everything from mental strength and moral support, to financial and practical help, to the basic motivation to recover, and the even more basic will to live. I’ll probably talk more about personal support in the future, but for now I’ll just send you to the previous series here. 

Meantime, I’m starting off with something maybe unusual, just to keep y’all on your toes: one of the most important pieces that set me on the road to recovery was my own past mental illness. 

One day I’m going to write a book called Dear Depression: Thank you. I’m not grateful for mental illness, but it has offered a few unexpected gifts, and every teacher no matter how strict or unsympathetic ought to be at least acknowledged. No, perinatal mental illness didn’t come clear out of the blue for me. I had already struggled with both depression and anxiety. I had also been diagnosed with an eating disorder as a young adult (which incidentally, may be related to OCD). 

It was easier, for my mother and Christie at least if not for me, to recognize the tell-tale patterns of a downward spiral. My family doctor too had supervised my coming off an antidepressant, so he knew to pay attention to mental health symptoms.

The medication choice was more obvious since it had worked for me before. And when I learned about ERP (Exposure Response Prevention--I’ll talk more about this soon), I recognized it as similar to the therapy that helped me recover from an eating disorder: facing fears like walking by a garbage can or cracking raw eggs did not feel that different from eating a pudding, or not exercising for a couple days in a row. Knowing what to expect from therapy can make it a bit easier to go through the second (or third or tenth) time around.

And once I was on the road to recovery, I did start to recognize the patterns in my illnesses, and to be able to apply the things that had helped the last time. Almost magically, as I learned new skills from a new therapist old wounds that still hadn’t healed from previous struggles finally did heal. I thought I was in therapy for OCD, but found out I was recovering more fully from anorexia.

So here’s the take-home: since many instances of mental illness can become chronic, learn from your past and stay alert to the thought patterns that tend to get you down. Don’t lose heart. Every relapse is an opportunity to learn how to prevent a future one. You do get stronger.

And: go see your doctor. Seriously, stop making up excuses. Be honest, keep them informed. Next time: my homage to medical professionals.