Tag Archives: courage

2014 Blog for Mental Health Project

Posted on April 13, 2014 by Christy Barongan
“I pledge my commitment to the Blog for Mental Health 2014 Project. I will blog about mental health topics not only for myself, but for others. By displaying this badge, I show my pride, dedication, and acceptance for mental health. I use this to promote mental health education in the struggle to erase stigma.”  
A Canvas of the Minds

Sometimes we make the most important decisions in our lives without consciously knowing why we made them at the time.I knew that I wanted to become a psychologist since I was in high school. At the time I wasn’t fully aware of being depressed in the clinical sense. Being anxious was so much a part of my personality that I didn’t think I had an anxiety disorder. And I definitely wasn’t aware of any mental illness in my family. I had no idea at the time that depression, bipolar disorder, and anxiety would impact every aspect of my life–in both positive and negative ways.

It’s probably not surprising that I have been negatively affected by mental illness. But as I write this post, I realize that there have been positive things about it, too. I have learned the most important lessons in life through suffering and loss.

Even as a therapist, when I heard clients make comments about how they had a bad week, it didn’t fully register how horrible that week was for them. In part because clients don’t elaborate unless you ask them to. Unless they are certain that you really want to know. And because they are embarrassed about it. Ashamed, even. But after going through my worst depression 5 years ago, I have much more compassion when clients make these offhanded comments.

I admit, during that period there were times when suicide would cross my mind. But there were two things that kept me from seriously entertaining it. One is that my dad would be devastated, and I feared he would never recover if I went through with it.

The other reason is that if I took my own life, it would undermine everything I ever said to my clients about how pain passes. That one day when they look back they will realize how strong they were at the time. That they will learn lessons from their suffering that it takes some people a lifetime to learn. How can you believe anything your therapist said if she committed suicide? That would be the ultimate betrayal.

So I spent months willing myself to get better. I went back to therapy, started meds again, meditated and prayed, and forced myself to play tennis and spend time with friends. And I did get better. And everything I said about realizing my strength, becoming more compassionate, and acquiring wisdom were all true. I would have never chosen depression, but we usually don’t choose the experiences that teach us the most about life.

People often ask me how I can listen to client’s problems all day long. In all honesty, I can’t imagine what else I would do for a living. It feels more like psychology chose me. And when I hear a client’s story, I always have hope that together we can change the plot for the better. After all, I always root for the underdog. I am the eternal optimist. And I never back down from a challenge.

There was a time when I would never have told this story about my struggles with depression and anxiety to my students or clients. Or even friends and family. But now I want to share it with the world, because every act of courage benefits someone else. My blog is proof of that.

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Self-Disclosure

Posted on March 6, 2014 by Christy Barongan

I started this blog as a way to put Brene Brown’s claim in Daring Greatly to the test that vulnerability leads to connection. I believed it in theory before reading the book, but now I have empirical evidence that it works. But self-disclosure is still scary.

It’s still a challenge to write about myself in a way that doesn’t out all of the people in my life who have not chosen to be vulnerable. So I try to talk about myself without blaming anyone else for my problems–in public, at least. Which is a good approach to life in general, I think.

It’s still hard to be open about my weaknesses, although people’s responses have been positive. I freak out a little when people remark on how honest a post was, because that means I said something that they probably wouldn’t have shared about themselves. But mostly I take it as a compliment.

There are still some posts that I have the urge to take down.  I haven’t done so yet, because then it will take me longer to get to 100 posts. Luckily I have enough posts that only the most dedicated readers will find them. And if they like my blog that much, they probably won’t judge me for my flaws.

I still haven’t told clients about my blog. Partly because I’m not brave enough, but also because therapy needs to be about them. Usually they come to see me because they don’t have anyone else who will give them their undivided attention. If I were to say, Hey you know what? I wrote a blog on that very same problem. Here’s the address, that seems a little self-serving. But who knows? Maybe someday.

It’s hard to draw the line between unburdening yourself and burdening someone else. The best part about blogging is that I don’t have to feel guilty about unburdening myself because if you’re reading this, you have chosen to give me your undivided attention.

And for that, I am thankful.

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How to Save a Life

Posted on February 28, 2014 by Christy Barongan

A few years ago a client told me that I saved his life. Well, he didn’t tell me directly.  He told my colleague when he was drunk at a gala. But he told her to tell me. Although I’m not sure he remembers doing so. Still, I was humbled by this. I knew therapy was important to him, but I didn’t think his life was in danger. But then again, even when clients are in therapy, they don’t always tell you the full story.

Once I had to cancel a session with this client and he stopped coming in for about a month. Apparently he got depressed because he felt like I had abandoned him. A professor contacted him because he had also stopped going to class. When he came back to therapy, he told me that his professor saved his life. That was the first time I really understood how much therapy means to some clients, even when they say they’re not sure they want to be there.

Last week I went to a threat assessment training, and the first case that the presenter discussed was a student who had to go to the police department because she told her roommate she was suicidal. While she was there, she asked for a piece of paper and a pen. She drew what appeared to be a bunch of random doodles. But later when they looked at the drawing, they saw that she had embedded the word help three times.

This, too, reminded me that people may say they don’t want help but their actions tell you otherwise.

Before I started blogging, I thought blogs were just another example of our narcissistic culture in that journaling, which is supposed to be a private experience, was turned into something that you shared with the world and everyone was free to comment. But now I realize that blogs can be a way for people who have never had a voice to connect with people like themselves.

My favorite blog is by Nelly N. She writes passionately and honestly about her struggles with obsessive-compulsive disorder, among other things. She shares her most painful experiences so that other people who suffer in silence will realize that they are not alone. And it works.

A few days ago the student group that I advise had their annual eating disorder panel. It consists of students in recovery who are brave enough to share their story. On our campus, people with eating disorders are blamed and judged more harshly than any other disorder. Not surprisingly, no one wants to admit to having one publicly.

Every year, at least one student seeks treatment after attending the panel. And the next year, those students volunteer to speak on the panel so that they can help someone else who is alone with their eating disorder. Sometimes they use the opportunity to speak as motivation to get better.

We don’t have to be able to leap tall buildings to save someone’s life. Sometimes heroes are ordinary people who take action when someone needs help.

                    

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Self-Acceptance

Posted on November 20, 2013 by Christy Barongan

Today I was looking for blogs on self-acceptance that are similar to mine, and there really aren’t any. Interestingly, most self-acceptance blogs specifically deal with acceptance of your body. Apparently that’s the main thing people have trouble with. I guess I’m in the right business.

Anyway, I realized that the phrase self-acceptance only appears once in my entire blog, and that’s in the little blurb on the top of the first page, so I figured I better correct that. This probably should have been the first post, but oh well. Better late than never.

I believe that, no matter how well-adjusted someone is, everyone has a part of them that tries to make them feel bad about themselves. Call this part what you want–your inner demon, your inner critic, your superego–but there’s no question that it’s there. And there are lots of other parts of us, too–children, warriors, and rock stars, just to name a few. And just like in real relationships, sometimes these parts don’t get along.

We are often at war with ourselves. There are parts of us that we do everything in our power to get rid of and hide from the rest of the world. That’s why people want and fear therapy at the same time. On the one hand, we think, hey wouldn’t it be great if I told someone my deep, dark secrets and she said I wasn’t crazy? But at the same time we think, but what if she does think I’m crazy? That would be terrible. That’s why it’s always a courageous thing when someone goes to therapy.

Therapists have the luxury of hiding behind their professional status if they want to. You don’t want to seem too crazy, or no one will want to come see you. But if you seem too perfect, then it’s hard for clients to relate to you. Although I want to be transparent, I know I err on the side of seeming perfect because it feels safer that way.

But as I get older, I want to be more honest about who I am and accepting of all my flaws, and I want to do this in a way that inspires other people do the same. It’s always better to show someone how to do something than it is to tell them how to do it, so that’s why I started this blog.

Sometimes it’s still terrifying to publish some of these posts, but when someone tells me that they related to one them, that they think just like I do, then I know I’m doing the right thing.

Since some of you liked my last doodle, I thought I’d post another one for you.

 

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Solitude

Posted on November 16, 2013 by Christy Barongan
Solitude

I am about to share with you my most shameful flaw so please don’t judge me. And this post isn’t that funny. But it’s the truth, so I have to say it.

I have been in a relationship non-stop since I was 14. That’s 30 years of relationships, and not just to one person. So no pearls for me. That’s the 30 year anniversary gift, in case you didn’t know. I just looked it up. And sometimes the relationships were slightly overlapping towards the end. And often they were not very good relationships. And I knew this while I was in them, but I stayed in them, anyway.

In my defense, the marriages were both relationships with two very good guys. But that doesn’t guarantee that a relationship will work, as I indicated in my previous blog about whether love conquers all. In case you didn’t read it, then I’ll remind you the answer. It doesn’t.

But most of the other relationships were not very good. I stayed in them because: 1) I’m drawn to guys who need psychological help and 2) I am terrified of being alone and am in need of psychological help. My attitude was that something was better than nothing. Which is helpful when used as motivation to work out, but not for staying in an unfulfilling relationship. I didn’t have any empirical evidence to support this idea that crappy connection being better than nothing, but that’s how fear is. It feels true, even when it’s not.

So in addition to channeling all of my energy into my long-standing dream of becoming a writer, I have also decided to be alone for the first time.

A lot of my married friends say, oh I would love to be alone. I look forward to the times when my husband and kids are not in the house. I, too, appreciated my alone time when I was in a relationship. But it’s different when you go home and no one will be there, and you don’t know if or when someone will ever be there.

It’s different when you could fall and hurt your back and not be able to reach your phone and call for help and people might not notice that you haven’t been around until you stop showing up to work for a few days. Then they would have to send public safety down to find you because you’re not answering your phone.

Or if people will finally notice because you didn’t show up to the tennis match and you’re the captain. And you’re so obsessive that you tell everyone that if they’re late, you will call them until they get there. That’s why I play tennis as much as possible.

That’s not the same thing as having a break from your husband and kids at all.

Last night I tried to change one of the flood lights in my bedroom, but I couldn’t reach it. I tried to use that thingy that allows you to reach light bulbs that are really high up but the floodlight was too big. I probably wouldn’t have been able to get the thingy to work, anyway. I considered getting out the ladder but that would definitely result in bodily injury and/or death. I don’t want to call one of my guy friends and ask them to come over and change one light bulb, so I’ll probably have to wait until several bulbs burn out and exist in semi-darkness in the meantime.

Don’t get me wrong–I know that in the grand scheme of things, I’m a very lucky person. I have a loving family and a great group of friends. I can support myself and I love my job. I have a nice place. And I am hopeful that at some point another relationship opportunity will present itself. Still, there’s no amount of self-talk that can change the fact that sometimes it sucks to be alone.

I’m a big proponent of learning how to sit with negative feelings. This is what I tell my clients all the time. I’m often amazed that they start doing it because I tell them to.  They’re better at taking my advice than I am. I’m amazed that I can give them the courage to break up with their boyfriend or girlfriend, even though they were terrified of doing so. At those times I think, why is it that I can help them do it but not myself? It doesn’t work to be your own therapist, apparently.

But now I’m ready. I’m going to face sadness and loneliness and fear if it kills me. I am going to find out whether or not it’s true that it’s better to be in a bad relationship than none at all. Obviously it’s not true, but like I said, fear is not always logical.

And it’s going OK so far. Sometimes it does suck, but it’s not as bad as I thought it would be. Because when I was in a bad relationship, I still felt sad and lonely and afraid. But I also beat myself up for staying in a relationship just because I was afraid of being alone. It’s much better without that last part.

The thing I miss the most is having someone to talk to–someone to share how my day went, to talk about the book I’m reading, or to share any deep and meaningful revelations I’ve had. Someone to bear witness to my life. But now that I have this blog, I have all of you to listen to me. And that helps a lot. So thank you for listening.

And you know what else? My neighbor called me this morning to check on me because she hadn’t seen me in awhile and wanted to make sure I was OK. I was afraid she was going to tell me she hit my car again. Or accidentally opened my mail again. Or try to get me to come to church with her again. Because those are reasons she has called in the past. But no. She was just checking on me.

I take that as a sign that God is looking out for me.

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Learning from the Past

Posted on November 11, 2013 by Christy Barongan

You know how you keep making the same mistakes over and over again, even though you know it’s the wrong choice? Freud called this the repetition compulsion: we’re replaying some past conflict in an attempt to master it. These days neuroscientists talk about well-worn neural pathways in our brains that were formed early in life. And as Robert Frost pointed out, we tend to take the road that’s more travelled by.

No matter what theory you use to explain it, there’s no question that it happens. And while it’s possible to break these patterns, it takes a lot of effort to do so.

So the reason I’ve started this post on making the same mistakes over and over again is that I found out that my second article was also rejected for publication. I’m not used to failing. And this is failing at giving high school kids advice on what to do about their budding relationships. So as a clinical psychologist, it was a bit more of a blow than usual.  Even though I don’t work with adolescents.

And even though, with a Ph.D., you are used to giving nuanced answers based on research and are told never to simplify even the most obvious answer with something like, yes, the answer is both nature and nurture play a role in human behavior at about equal rates. So it’s hard for me to oversimplify relationship advice and say yes, leave that jerk. He’s obviously a loser. Why don’t you know that already?

Unlike with the first rejection, when I was willing to put in 10 hours revising that paper until I could give them the trite answer they were looking for, this time, instead of rushing to eradicate this blemish on my record, I decided to do nothing.

And then I thought about how many hours I’ve spent writing these dumbed down relationship articles for less than minimum wage.  Ordinarily I would keep trying to prove that I can do it, I can give them what they want. And I could master the art of answering questions like, “What do you do if your boyfriend is mean?” Or “What’s a cute text I could send to a shy girl to let her know that I like her?” But why? It’s torturous for me to give such superficial advice. To use my wisdom to answer questions that aren’t that deep.

Apparently, this is one of the reasons why neurodivergent people don’t like small talk.

So I made an unprecedented decision: I decided to cut my losses right away. Me, the person who climbs psychological mountains for fun, knits complicated patterns like dresses, and finishes tennis matches when I’m having an asthma attack rather than retire.

I finally get what they mean by the phrase “pick your battles.” I always thought it just referred to being selective about the things that you want to argue about. Now I understand that it means that you have to save your energy for the things that are worth fighting for. Dying for, even. Not every hill is worth dying on. Especially if you only die once.

Although I’m not sure I believe you only die once. But still. You probably don’t get many times. And I’m not going to die on the hill of figuring out what a cute text is to send to a shy girl to let her know that some equally shy guy likes her.

I have always spent my energy fighting for other people–my friends, my family, my clients, my romantic partners, random people who ask me for advice when they find out I’m a psychologist.  For the first time in my life, I’ve decided that I’m worth fighting for. So I’m just going to focus on what’s best for me and say, message received. Please don’t send me any more articles.

motivational quote
Photo by Bich Tran on Pexels.com

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The Courage to Be Vulnerable

Posted on October 4, 2013 by Christy Barongan

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There are several messages that I preach in therapy and in presentations. One is that vulnerability is a sign of strength and helps us feel connected to others. That’s a tough sell in a culture where it’s all about promoting our brand and cultivating the best image of ourselves.

Instagram and TikTok are good examples. We can post pictures just of our face so that no one can see how much weight we’ve gained. We can even use filters to improve the photo if we really want to look good. We post happy family and friend pictures where we’re doing interesting things and visiting cool places. We post Happy Anniversary or Happy Birthday messages to our wonderful husband/wife/daughter/son, who we are lucky to have in our lives. Even though they might not be able to read them because they’re not on social media. Or aren’t yet able to read. Or you could tell them in person at the celebration tonight.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m guilty of all of these things, too. I want people to see me in the best light. I want to hide my mistakes, my flaws, my deep, dark secrets. Well, except for this blog post. Which sometimes terrifies me when I hit publish.

It has been my goal to write a book for a long time, but every time I start to write I am paralyzed by that voice in my head that says I suck. Who do you think you are, thinking you can write? Like you have anything worthwhile to say. Your family is going to be mad at you for talking about them. People will lose respect for you once they see how crazy you are. Who wants a crazy therapist?

I am beginning to appreciate how brave it is when writers put themselves out there–their work, their thoughts, their lives–knowing that the world will judge them. But I also have a better understanding of why they do it.  It’s because they want to speak the truth. They want to be able to say, this is who I am, and I don’t have to apologize for it–even if they have to cultivate a moment of bravery to show it to the world.

I started this blog last week because it was time for me to let people read my writing. At first I was going to write it but not publish it. Then I decided to publish it but not put it on FB. Then I decided I was only going to post the funny, light ones.  But then I realized that would defeat the purpose of the blog.

This blog is about learning how to accept all of myself, regardless of what other people might think of me as a result. In doing so, hopefully it will help other people do the same. So I’m going to publish this post, too, even though it’s the hardest one I’ve written so far.

P.S.  If you’re interested in the idea of sharing your vulnerability, check out Brené Brown’s book, “Daring Greatly.”  She also has a TED talk on the subject.

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