Answer Addiction

Tag: anxiety

  • How Those With Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder Cope With Added Angst Of COVID

    People with OCD face uniquely difficult mental health battles, including trying to distinguish concerns brought on by their conditions from general fears shared by the public about COVID-19.

    Before the COVID-19 pandemic took hold in the United States, Chris Trondsen felt his life was finally under control. As someone who has battled obsessive-compulsive disorder and other mental health issues since early childhood, it’s been a long journey.

    “I’ve been doing really, really well,” Trondsen said. “I felt like most of it was pretty much — I wouldn’t say ‘cured’ ― but I definitely felt in remission or under control. But this pandemic has been really difficult for me.”

    Trondsen, 38, a Costa Mesa, California, therapist who treats those with obsessive-compulsive and anxiety disorders, has found himself excessively washing his hands once again. He’s experiencing tightness in his chest from anxiety — something he hadn’t felt in so long that it frightened him into getting checked out at an urgent care center. And because he also has body dysmorphic disorder, he said, he’s finding it difficult to ignore his appearance when he’s looking at himself during his many Zoom appointments with clients each day.

    From the early days of the coronavirus outbreak, experts and media have warned of a mounting mental health crisis as people contend with a pandemic that has upended their lives. A recent KFF poll found that about 4 in 10 adults say stress from the coronavirus negatively affected their mental health. (KHN is an editorially independent program of KFF, the Kaiser Family Foundation.)

    But those with obsessive-compulsive disorder and other serious anxieties face uniquely difficult mental health battles, including trying to distinguish concerns brought on by their conditions from general fears shared by the public about COVID-19. People with OCD have discovered one advantage, though: Those who have undergone successful treatment often have increased abilities to accept the pandemic’s uncertainty.

    Dr. Katharine Phillips, a psychiatrist at NewYork-Presbyterian and professor at Weill Cornell Medicine, said it’s possible that patients who have been in consistent, good treatment for their OCD are well protected against the stress of COVID-19.

    “Whether it’s excessive fears about the virus, excessive fears about possible repercussions to the virus, whether that’s financial effects ― good treatment protects against relapse in these patients,” Phillips said.

    Those with OCD feel compelled to repeatedly perform certain behaviors, such as compulsive cleaning, and they may fixate on routines. OCD can also cause nonstop intrusive thoughts.

    Carli, who asked that her last name be withheld because she feared professional repercussions, can trace her OCD to age 6. The coronavirus pandemic has sent Carli, a 43-year-old from Jersey City, New Jersey, into a spiral. She’s afraid of the elevators in her building, so she doesn’t leave her apartment. And she’s having trouble distinguishing an OCD compulsion from an appropriate reaction to a dangerous pandemic, asking those without OCD how they’ve reacted.

    “The compulsions in my head have definitely gotten worse, but in terms of wearing a mask and cleaning my groceries and going into stores, it’s really hard to gauge what is a normal reaction and what is my OCD,” Carli said. “I try to ask people, Are you doing this? Are you doing that?”

    Elizabeth McIngvale, director of the McLean OCD Institute in Houston, said she has noticed patients struggling to differentiate reactions, as Carli described. Her response is that whereas guidelines such as hand-washing from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention are generally easily accomplished, OCD compulsions are usually never satisfied.

    McIngvale was diagnosed with OCD when she was 12, with behaviors like taking six- to eight-hour showers and washing her hands for so long they bled. McIngvale receives therapy weekly.

    “It’s just a part of my life and how I maintain my progress,” McIngvale said.

    Lately, she’s found herself consumed with fears of harming or infecting others with the COVID-19 virus — a symptom of her OCD. But, generally, with the tools she’s gained through treatment, she said she’s been handling the pandemic better than some people around her.

    “The pandemic, in general, was a new experience for everybody, but for me, feeling anxiety and feeling uncomfortable wasn’t new,” McIngvale said.

    “OCD patients are resilient,” she added. Treatment is based on “leaning into uncertainty and so we’ve also seen patients who are far along in their treatment during this time be able to manage really well and actually teach others how to live with uncertainty and with anxiety.”

    Wendy Sparrow, 44, an author from Port Orchard, Washington, has OCD, agoraphobia (fear of places or situations that might cause panic) and post-traumatic stress disorder. Sparrow has been in therapy several times but now takes medication and practices mindfulness and meditation.

    At the beginning of the pandemic, she wasn’t fazed because she’s used to sanitizing frequently and she doesn’t mind staying home. Instead, she has felt her symptoms worsening as her home no longer felt like a safe space and her fears of fatal contamination heightened.

    “The world feels germier than normal and anyone who leaves this house is subjected to a barrage of questions when they return,” Sparrow wrote in an email.

    Depending on how long the pandemic lasts, Sparrow said, she may revisit therapy so she can adopt more therapeutic practices. Trondsen, too, is considering therapy again, even though he knows the tools to combat OCD by heart and uses them to help his clients.

    “I definitely am needing therapy,” Trondsen said. “I realized that even if it’s not specifically to relearn tools for the disorders … it’s more so for my mental well-being.”

    Carli has struggled with finding the right treatment for her OCD.

    But a recent change is helping. As the pandemic intensified this spring, many doctors and mental health providers moved to telehealth appointments — and insurers agreed to cover them ― to cut down on the risks of spreading the virus. In April, she started using an app that connects people with OCD to licensed therapists. While skeptical at first, she has appreciated the convenience of teletherapy.

    “I never want to go back to actually being in a therapist’s office,” Carli said. “Therapy is something that’s really uncomfortable for a lot of people, including me. And to be able to be on my own turf makes me feel a little more powerful.”

    Patrick McGrath, a psychologist and head of clinical services at NOCD, the telehealth platform Carli uses, said he’s found that teletherapy with his patients is also beneficial because it allows him to better understand “how their OCD is interfering in their day-to-day life.”

    Trondsen hopes the pandemic will bring increased awareness of OCD and related disorders. Occasionally, he’s felt that his troubles during this pandemic have been dismissed or looped into the general stress everyone is feeling.

    “I think that there needs to be a better understanding of how intense this is for people with OCD,” he said.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • Flattening the mental health curve is the next big coronavirus challenge

    Some recent projections suggest that deaths stemming from mental health issues could rival deaths directly due to the virus itself.

    The mental health crisis triggered by COVID-19 is escalating rapidly. One example: When compared to a 2018 survey, U.S. adults are now eight times more likely to meet the criteria for serious mental distress. One-third of Americans report clinically significant symptoms of anxiety or clinical depression, according to a late May 2020 release of Census Bureau data.

    While all population groups are affected, this crisis is especially difficult for students, particularly those pushed off college campuses and now facing economic uncertainty; adults with children at home, struggling to juggle work and home-schooling; and front-line health care workers, risking their lives to save others.

    We know the virus has a deadly impact on the human body. But its impact on our mental health may be deadly too. Some recent projections suggest that deaths stemming from mental health issues could rival deaths directly due to the virus itself. The latest study from the Well Being Trust, a nonprofit foundation, estimates that COVID-19 may lead to anywhere from 27,644 to 154,037 additional U.S. deaths of despair, as mass unemployment, social isolation, depression and anxiety drive increases in suicides and drug overdoses.

    But there are ways to help flatten the rising mental health curve. Our experience as psychologists investigating the depression epidemic and the nature of positive emotions tells us we can. With a concerted effort, clinical psychology can meet this challenge.

    Reimagining mental health care

    Our field has accumulated long lists of evidence-based approaches to treat and prevent anxiety, depression and suicide. But these existing tools are inadequate for the task at hand. Our shining examples of successful in-person psychotherapies – such as cognitive behavioral therapy for depression, or dialectical behavioral therapy for suicidal patients – were already underserving the population before the pandemic.

    Now, these therapies are largely not available to patients in person, due to physical distancing mandates and continuing anxieties about virus exposure in public places. A further complication: Physical distancing interferes with support networks of friends and family. These networks ordinarily allow people to cope with major shocks. Now they are, if not completely severed, surely diminished.

    What will help patients now? Clinical scientists and mental health practitioners must reimagine our care. This includes action on four interconnected fronts.

    First, the traditional model of how and where a person receives mental health care must change. Clinicians and policymakers must deliver evidence-based care that clients can access remotely. Traditional “in-person” approaches – like individual or group face-to-face sessions with a mental health professional – will never be able to meet the current need.

    Telehealth therapy sessions can fill a small part of the remaining gap. Forms of nontraditional mental health care delivery must fill the rest. These alternatives do not require reinvention of the wheel; in fact, these resources are already readily accessible. Among available options: web-based courses on the science of happiness, open-source web-based tools and podcasts. There are also self-paced, web-based interventions – mindfulness-based cognitive therapy is one – which are accessible for free or at reduced rates.

    Democratizing mental health

    Second, mental health care must be democratized. That means abandoning the notion that the only path to treatment is through a therapist or psychiatrist who dispenses wisdom or medications. Instead, we need other kinds of collaborative and community-based partnerships.

    For example, given the known benefits of social support as a buffer against mental distress, we should enhance peer-delivered or peer-supported interventions – like peer-led mental health support groups, where information is communicated between people of similar social status or with common mental health problems. Peer programs have great flexibility; after orientation and training, peer leaders are capable of helping individual clients or groups, in person, online or via the phone. Initial data shows these approaches can successfully treat severe mental illness and depression. But they are not yet widely used.

    Taking a proactive approach

    Third, clinical scientists must promote mental health at the population level, with initiatives that try to benefit everyone rather than focusing exclusively on those who seek treatment. Some of these promotion strategies already have clear-cut scientific support. In fact, the best-supported population interventions, such as exercise, sleep hygiene and spending time outdoors, lend themselves perfectly to the needs of the moment: stress-relieving, mental illness-blocking and cost-free.

    Finally, we must track mental health on the population level, just as intensely as COVID-19 is tracked and modeled. We must collect much more mental health outcome data than we do now. This data should include evaluations from mental health professionals as well as reports from everyday citizens who share their daily experiences in real time via remote-based survey platforms.

    Monitoring population-level mental health requires a team effort. Data must be collected, then analyzed; findings must be shared across disciplines – psychiatry, psychology, epidemiology, sociology and public health, to name a few. Sustained funding from key institutions, like the NIH, are essential. To those who say this is too tall an order, we ask, “What’s the alternative?” Before flattening the mental health curve, the curve must be visible.

    COVID-19 has revealed the inadequacies of the old mental health order. A vaccine will not solve these problems. Changes to mental health paradigms are needed now. In fact, the revolution is overdue.
     

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    This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

  • Addiction Is ‘A Disease Of Isolation’ — So Pandemic Puts Recovery At Risk

    Addiction Is ‘A Disease Of Isolation’ — So Pandemic Puts Recovery At Risk

    “We consider addiction a disease of isolation…Now we’re isolating all these people and expecting them to pick up the phone, get online, that sort of thing — and it may not work out as well.”

    Before the coronavirus became a pandemic, Emma went to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting every week in the Boston area and to another support group at her methadone clinic. She said she felt safe, secure and never judged.

    “No one is thinking, ‘Oh, my God. She did that?’” said Emma, “’cause they’ve been there.”

    Now, with AA and other 12-step groups moving online, and the methadone clinic shifting to phone meetings and appointments, Emma said she is feeling more isolated. (KHN is not using her last name because she still uses illegal drugs sometimes.) Emma said the coronavirus may make it harder to stay in recovery.

    “Maybe I’m old fashioned,” said Emma, “but the whole point of going to a meeting is to be around people and be social and feel connected, and I’d be totally missing that if I did it online.”

    While it’s safer to stay home to avoid getting and spreading COVID-19, addiction specialists acknowledge Emma’s concern: Doing so may increase feelings of depression and anxiety among people in recovery — and those are underlying causes of drug and alcohol use and addiction.

    “We consider addiction a disease of isolation,” said Dr. Marvin Seppala, chief medical officer at the Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation. “Now we’re isolating all these people and expecting them to pick up the phone, get online, that sort of thing — and it may not work out as well.”

    Emma has another frustration: If the methadone clinic isn’t allowing gatherings, why is she still required to show up daily and wait in line for her dose of the pink liquid medication?

    The answer is in tangled rules for methadone dispensing. The federal government has loosened them during the pandemic — so that patients don’t all have to make a daily trip to the methadone clinic, even if they are sick. But patients say clinics have been slow to adopt the new rules.

    Mark Parrino, president of the American Association for the Treatment of Opioid Dependence, said he issued guidelines to members late last week about how to operate during pandemics. He recommended that clinics stop collecting urine samples to test for drug use. Many patients can now get a 14- to 28-day supply of their addiction treatment medication so they can make fewer trips to methadone or buprenorphine clinics.

    “But there has to be caution about giving significant take-home medication to patients who are clinically unstable or actively still using other drugs,” Parrino said, “because that could lead to more problems.”

    The new rules have a downside for clinics: Programs will lose money during the pandemic as fewer patients make daily visits, although Medicare and some other providers are adjusting reimbursements based on the new stay-at-home guidelines.

    And for active drug users, being alone when taking high levels of opioids increases the risk of a fatal overdose.

    These are just some of the challenges that emerge as the public health crisis of addiction collides with the global pandemic of COVID-19. Doctors worry deaths will escalate unless people struggling with excessive drug and alcohol use and those in recovery — as well as addiction treatment programs — quickly change the way they do business.

    But treatment options are becoming even scarcer during the pandemic.

    “It’s shutting down everything,” said John, a homeless man who’s wandering the streets of Boston while he waits for a detox bed. (KHN is not including his last name because he still buys illegal drugs.) “Detoxes are closing their doors and halfway houses,” he said. “It’s really affecting people getting help.”

    Adding to the scarcity of treatment options: Some inpatient and outpatient programs are not accepting new patients because they aren’t yet prepared to operate under the physical distancing rules. In many residential treatment facilities, bedrooms and bathrooms for patients are shared, and most daily activities happen in groups — those are all settings that would increase the risk of transmitting the novel coronavirus.

    “If somebody were to become symptomatic or were to spread within a unit, it would have a significant impact,” said Lisa Blanchard, vice president of clinical services at Spectrum Health Systems. Spectrum runs two detox and residential treatment programs in Massachusetts. Its facilities and programs are all still accepting patients.

    Seppala said inpatient programs at Hazelden Betty Ford are open, but with new precautions. All patients, staff and visitors have their temperature checked daily and are monitored for other COVID-19 symptoms. Intensive outpatient programs will run on virtual platforms online for the immediate future. Some insurers cover online and telehealth addiction treatment, but not all do.

    Seppala worried that all the disruptions — canceled meetings, the search for new support networks and fear of the coronavirus — will be dangerous for people in recovery.

    “That can really drive people to an elevated level of anxiety,” he said, “and anxiety certainly can result in relapse.”

    Doctors say some people with a history of drug and alcohol use may be more susceptible to COVID-19 because they are more likely to have weak immune systems and have existing infections such as hepatitis C or HIV.

    “They also have very high rates of nicotine addiction and smoking, and high rates of chronic lung disease,” said Dr. Peter Friedmann, president of the Massachusetts Society of Addiction Medicine. “Those [are] things we’ve seen in the outbreak in China [that] put folks at higher risk for more severe respiratory complications of this virus.”

    Counselors and street outreach workers are redoubling their efforts to explain the pandemic and all the related dangers to people living on the streets. Kristin Doneski, who runs One Stop, a needle exchange and outreach program in Gloucester, Massachusetts, worried it won’t be clear when some drug users have COVID-19.

    “When folks are in withdrawal, a lot of those symptoms can kind of mask some of the COVID-19 stuff,” said Doneski. “So people might not be taking some of their [symptoms seriously], because they think it’s just withdrawal and they’ve experienced it before.”

    Doneski is concerned that doctors and nurses evaluating drug users will also mistake a case of COVID-19 for withdrawal.

    During the coronavirus pandemic, needle exchange programs are changing their procedures; some have stopped allowing people to gather inside for services, safety supplies, food and support.

    There’s also a lot of fear about how quickly the coronavirus could spread through communities of drug users who’ve lost their homes.

    “It’s scary to see how this will pan out,” said Meredith Cunniff, a nurse from Quincy, Massachusetts, who is in recovery for an opioid use disorder. “How do you wash your hands and practice social distancing if you’re living in a tent?”

    This story is part of a partnership that includes WBUR, NPR and Kaiser Health News.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • 5 Tips for Surviving in an Increasingly Uncertain World

    Nothing is certain in life. The sooner you start thinking about that fact, the easier it will be to face it.

    A recent study showed that North Americans are becoming less tolerant of uncertainty.

    The U.S. presidential impeachment inquiry has added another layer of uncertainty to an already unstable situation that includes political polarization and the effects of climate change.

    As a clinical psychologist in the Washington, D.C. area, I hear people report being stressed, anxious, worried, depressed and angry. Indeed, an American Psychological Association 2017 survey found that 63% of Americans were stressed by “the future of our nation,” and 57% by the “current political climate.”

    Humans dislike uncertainty in most situations, but some deal with it better than others. Numerous studies link high intolerance of uncertainty to anxiety and anxiety disorders, obsessive-compulsive disorder, depression, PTSD and eating disorders.

    While no one person can reduce the uncertainty of the current political situation, you can learn to decrease intolerance of uncertainty by implementing these scientifically sound strategies.

    1. Commit to Gradually Facing Uncertainty

    Even though humans encounter uncertain situations every day, we often avoid feeling the discomfort of facing the uncertainty.

    When unsure how to best proceed with a work assignment, you might either immediately seek help, over-research or procrastinate. As you prepare for the day, uncertainty about the weather or traffic is quickly short-circuited by checking a phone. Similarly, inquiries about family or friends’ whereabouts or emotions can be instantly gratified by texting or checking social media.

    All this avoidance of uncertainty leads to relief in the short run, but lessens your ability to tolerate anything short of complete certainty in the long run.

    Tolerance for uncertainty is like a muscle that weakens if not used. So, work that muscle next time you face uncertainty.

    Start gradually: Resist the urge to reflexively check your GPS the next time you are lost and aren’t pressured for time. Or go to a concert without Googling the band beforehand. Next, try to sit with the feelings of uncertainty for a while before you pepper your teenager with texts when he is running late. Over time, the discomfort will diminish.

    2. Connect to a Bigger Purpose

    Rita Levi-Montalcini was a promising young Jewish scientist when fascists came to power in Italy and she had to go into hiding. As World War II was raging, she set up a secret lab in her parents’ bedroom, studying cell growth. She would later say that the meaning that she derived from her work helped her to deal with the evil outside and with the ultimate uncertainty of whether she would be discovered.

    What gives your life meaning? Finding or rediscovering your life purpose can help you deal with uncertainty and the stress and anxiety related to it.

    Focusing on what can transcend finite human existence – whether it is religion, spirituality or dedication to a cause – can decrease uncertainty-driven worry and depression.

    3. Don’t Underestimate Your Coping Ability

    You might hate uncertainty because you fear how you would fare if things went badly. And you might distrust your ability to cope with the negative events that life throws your way.

    Most people overestimate how bad they will feel when something bad happens. They also tend to underestimate their coping abilities.

    It turns out that humans are generally resilient, even in the face of very stressful or traumatic events. If a feared outcome materializes, chances are you will deal with it better than you could now imagine. Remember that the next time uncertainty rears its head.

    4. Bolster Resilience by Increasing Self-Care

    You have probably heard it many times by now: Sleep well, exercise and prioritize social connections if you want to have a long and happy life.

    What you might not know is that the quantity and quality of sleep is also related to your ability to deal with uncertainty. Exercise, especially of the cardio variety, can increase your capacity to cope with uncertain situations and lower your stress, anxiety and depression. A new review study suggests that regular exercise may even be able to prevent the onset of anxiety and anxiety disorders.

    Possibly the best tool for coping with uncertainty is making sure that you have an active and meaningful social life. Loneliness fundamentally undermines a person’s sense of safety and makes it very hard to deal with the unpredictable nature of life.

    Having even a few close family members or friends imparts a feeling that “we are in this all together,” which can protect you from psychological and physical problems.

    5. Appreciate That Absolute Certainty Is Impossible

    Nothing is certain in life. The sooner you start thinking about that fact, the easier it will be to face it.

    Moreover, repeated attempts at predicting and controlling everything in life can backfire, leading to psychological problems like OCD.

    In spite of civilization’s great progress, the fantasy of humankind’s absolute control over its environment and fate is still just that – a fantasy. So, I say to embrace the reality of uncertainty and enjoy the ride.

    [ You’re smart and curious about the world. So are The Conversation’s authors and editors. You can read us daily by subscribing to our newsletter. ]

    The Conversation

    Jelena Kecmanovic, Adjunct Professor of Psychology, Georgetown University

    This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

  • Mental Health Disorders Rising Among Millennials 

    Mental Health Disorders Rising Among Millennials 

    Working long hours and stagnant wages may play a role in the rise. 

    Millennials are struggling with mental health at an alarming rate, according to Business Insider.

    In connection with World Mental Health Day, Business Insider spent time studying the state of mental health in millennials. Among the main takeaways of the research were the facts that both depression and “deaths of despair” are increasing among 23-38 year olds, and that the job market—specifically long hours and stagnant wages—is affecting their mental health. 

    Depression Diagnoses Increase By Nearly 50%

    When it comes to depression, a report from the Blue Cross Blue Shield Health Index indicates that millennials and teens are dealing with increased rates of depression in comparison to other generations. Since 2013, the report found, millennial depression diagnoses have increased 47%. 

    Going hand-in-hand with the increase in depression, more millennials are also dying as a result of drugs, alcohol and suicide, often referred to as “deaths of despair.” According to Time reporter Jamie Ducharme, deaths of despair have increased for all ages in the last 10 years, but have increased the most in the younger generations. In 2017 alone, about 36,000 millennial deaths were considered deaths of despair with drug overdoses as the most common cause. 

    Financial Pressure May Be A Factor

    Finances may be another factor contributing to the mental health of millennials, Business Insider reports. It’s thought that the financial stress of student loans, healthcare, childcare and housing may factor into the rate of mental health disorders in the generation.

    “Studies have found a correlation between people with debt and mental-health problems,” Business Insider reports. “While this research, by its nature, can’t identify causality, the likelihood of having a mental-health disorder is three times higher among those with unsecured debt… People who have died by suicide were eight times more likely to have debt.”

    As a result of financial stress, some millennials may not be able to afford treatment for such mental health struggles.

    Workplace Burnout

    Also contributing to deteriorating mental health are feelings of loneliness and burnout, both in and out of the workplace.

    “It’s a growing problem in today’s workplace because of trends like rising workloads, limited staff and resources, and long hours,” Business Insider states.

    Despite the obstacles they are facing, Business Insider reports that millennials are still more likely than other generations to attend therapy and as such, are starting to destigmatize it.

    According to Wall Street Journal reporter Peggy Drexler, millennials view therapy as a way to improve themselves, but also as a way to cope when they haven’t met their own expectations. 

    “Raised by parents who openly went to therapy themselves and who sent their children as well, today’s 20- and 30-somethings turn to therapy sooner and with fewer reservations than young people did in previous eras,” Drexler wrote. 

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • Is Mindfulness Meditation A Viable Treatment Option For Depression, Anxiety? 

    Is Mindfulness Meditation A Viable Treatment Option For Depression, Anxiety? 

    Experts believe that the mental health practice can be beneficial to those dealing with mental health issues.

    There may be another treatment option for those struggling with mental health disorders such as depression and anxiety, according to Psych Congress.

    Speakers at the 2019 Psych Congress discussed the effectiveness of mindfulness meditation as a treatment for such disorders, either on its own or alongside other treatment options. 

    In short, those who practice mindfulness meditation choose a “target,” which can be something like their own breath or a mantra. When they find their minds drifting elsewhere, according to Psych Congress, they acknowledge those thoughts and then redirect themselves to their chosen target.

    Hitting The Reset Button

    Psych Congress Steering Committee member Saundra Jain says mindfulness meditation helps “reset the balance” in the brain for those struggling with mental health disorders. She notes that people should “think about mindfulness as a way to soften, dampen, or quiet that internal chatter.”

    Jain also explored the scientific evidence for the practice, stating that brain imaging has demonstrated that mindfulness meditation is linked to an increase in the volume of gray matter in four different areas of the brain. She also noted that there was a connection between the practice and “beneficial changes in the activation of parts of the brain” and that the practice can still be beneficial to those patients who may already be on a medication.

    “Mindfulness meditation practices are effective interventions, and sometimes for mild to moderate conditions—depression and anxiety—super-effective as front lines,” Jain said.

    According to psychiatrist Michele Hauser, this practice has been around for about 3,500 years, with roots in Europe beginning in the 1700s. Such practices, according to Hauser, made their way west in the mid-20th century. She added that since 1999, the number of studies about mindfulness meditation have increased. 

    For Hauser, it’s important to note that the practice teaches its users how to respond to a situation rather than just react. 

    “Instead of spiraling downward into increasing anxiety and depression, we’re able to stop that spiral and respond in a more appropriate fashion,” she said.

    Practicing mindfulness meditation can be done in any moment, according to Mindful.

    “Mindfulness is available to us in every moment, whether through meditations and body scans, or mindful moment practices like taking time to pause and breathe when the phone rings instead of rushing to answer it,” the website states.

    The site also speaks about the importance of posture and positioning when practicing. 

    In order for the practice to be effective, Jain says that patients must practice it daily and cannot skip days. Research, she says, has shown the practice to be effective even if only for 10 minutes each day.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • How I Learned to Show Up for Life Without Alcohol

    How I Learned to Show Up for Life Without Alcohol

    Sobriety means—or will come to mean—different things for different people. But I can attest to one thing: The path is beautiful, and the difficulties you may encounter along the way are worth it.

    You would think that being smart enough to get into an elite university would mean I’d be “smart enough” about recognizing the signs of my disease. It took me a nearly fifteen-year drinking career, a six-year engagement, at least five psychiatric hospital visits, and maybe fifty face-to-face run-ins with actual, imminent death before I knew something had to change. 

    Forced to Change

    This time, the change would have nothing to do with my intellectual rigor, the dynamic quality of my ideas, or really anything in terms of my personal pursuits. Neither was this about a spiritual makeover of sorts, or a renewed commitment to my health. I was forced to change or face the end. I hadn’t even turned 30 yet.

    My engagement—a union with an emotionally absent partner, the result of my desperate need to not be alone with my demons—was becoming more and more codependent, unhealthy, and financially dominating, and less and less loving, protecting, viable. Still, we smiled in all of our pics. 

    The hardest thing to admit was that I could no longer pursue “the life of the mind” when my own mind was lost—null—from an almost continuous state of being under the influence.

    The process of recovery has not been easy, even three years down this road. While I have since become comfortable not drinking, and with telling people that I don’t drink, it wasn’t always that way. There were times I felt not only uncomfortable but sad, and at times jealous or angry, wishing I could have a drink. There were times of full-body anxiety that made the sober life seem like another kind of death sentence. 

    But I am fiercer now. I defend my right to be well. 

    Recovery as Self-Love and Self-Preservation

    When Audre Lorde said that self-love is an act of political warfare, I think part of what she meant is that if I care about myself, then I have to defend my sole, autonomous house—my body. I take Lorde’s words to heart when I think about my own recovery—that I indeed have had to become defensive about my health. Being in active recovery is a lifelong process of sticking up for yourself—your best self and your worst self. It is also a way of being that demands you treat your body as a temple, rather than an outhouse. 

    Now that I haven’t touched a drink in three years, not only have the clouds lifted, but I know what to do when life gives me rain. 

    Today, I have to be diligent about my health and about the truth of my alcoholism. It is a disease with branches in the family tree(s). It is also a disease that can go from dormant to full-fledged before you’ve had time to give it a name.

    The myth of drinking as self-care (at least for some of us) was apparent in the ways I had been taught to “decompress” from the stressors of graduate studies, a place made all the more difficult to navigate as a black, mixed-race woman (who has struggled with anxiety, depression, disordered eating, and of course drinking—my favorite form of self-love and self-abuse). 

    The truth is that I loved drinking enough to have developed a habit of it. At the time, I loved what drinking did for me (despite the pain of what it was doing to me). It brought me a social life, it furnished me with (false) self-confidence. 

    It also stole time from me. So many years spent in various states of relative alarm—how to get my drinks for the day and morning after, if I had enough money (somehow I always did), would I be able to last through that 12-step meeting without a drink?

    Clearly, I wasn’t ready to heal yet. 

    I can’t tell you when I became ready, or precisely what day it was; I had been on and off the wagon so many times that I’d stopped believing in myself. 

    What I did want to believe in was the line of thinking that told me I could control my disease and drink like normal people. If I could control it, maybe I would be “cured.”

    Seizures, Psych Wards, and Liver Failure

    My thinking changed when I had my first withdrawal-induced seizure. 

    Or was it after my second major stint in a psych ward? When did I become ready to change? Was it when I resorted to hiding liquor in shampoo bottles? Oh, I know—it must have been when my eyes started to turn yellow (though I remember still drinking—at that point, having to drink—in the face of these obvious symptoms of liver failure).

    Eventually, the dreadful condition of being caught in the throes of all kinds of dependency caught up to me, as they do for the luckier alcoholics among us. 

    When you’re in the midst of active addiction, it’s the drug that keeps you “alive” and “well.” But when you’re in recovery, you see the drug for what it is—the thing that is killing you and keeping you unwell. To complicate matters, your drug was your best friend—the friend who was there when you were stressed, sad, or having suicidal thoughts… never mind that it was the same friend who implanted these thoughts in your mind to begin with. 

    Not everyone thinks of alcohol abuse as an illness or disease, and that’s okay. What isn’t okay is the promotion of cute slogans like “wine not?”—in a world where more women are abusing alcohol than ever before. 

    Getting sober from alcohol coincided with my decision to withdraw from my studies abroad. Becoming dependent on alcohol had largely destroyed my independent spirit—the same one that had guided me to want to study abroad in the first place. 

    For years I had chosen alcohol as my drug of choice—what I “used” when things were going well, not well, and also when I was well, or unwell. My kind of drinking was pure self-destruction—mind you, I had continued to tell myself it was a feasible form of self-care. Plus, I deserved it. At the end of the day, if you worked hard, you deserved some kind of reward, didn’t you? That’s why they invented martinis, wasn’t it?

    I’ll spare you the details of my last hospital stint, but it was arduous, and at times left me hopeless, wanting to burn the wagon if possible. Now I had to learn to live and cope with life without that substance, and accept that in the end, the drug chose me.

    I Made It Out Alive… And I’m Thriving

    Fast forward three years, and what I really want to talk about is all the amazing things that can happen when you’re not drinking—being willing and able to forge authentic relationships with people, for example, and learning what it means to heal emotions through the body. Oh, and meeting people, whether romantically or as friends, does get weird, though in some ways more exciting. 

    The list is long, and I am learning new things about myself, but I think it imperative we put a new spin on recovery rhetoric—not all of it is a struggle, there is so much to take delight in. There are things that will pleasantly surprise you (like getting a real good night’s sleep). 

    I eventually accepted that my kind of sobriety from alcohol would have to be a total one.

    Because the severity of alcoholism lies on a spectrum, there are people who can drink alcohol and not become addicted (must be aliens), there are folks (total weirdos) who can just stick to one drink. But I know after many years of trying and lying to myself, that I am not one of them… and never will be. 

    Likewise, there are many ways to get sober and no one right path. Sobriety means—or will come to mean—different things for different people. But I can attest to one thing: The path is beautiful, and the difficulties you may encounter along the way are worth it.

    This summer I am celebrating three years (okurrrrrrr?!) of sobriety from alcohol. I do not define myself any longer by my disease. Of course, I work to ensure I never lose sight of the fact that my disease isn’t ever “going away,” but recovery sure beats bodily warfare, chronic sickness, and a fear of the future. 

    Today, I identify as an artist, a writer; and more specifically as a Catholic witch, poet, and intuitive. If you told me during my drinking years that I would one day not only make it out alive but drink-free for over 1,000 days, I’d say you were lying. But here I am, not just surviving but thriving. I have my sad days, but I let them be what they are. It’s good to cry sometimes. It’s good to feel your feelings. Now, I have an array of tools and ways for navigating those feelings, especially when I think of the darknesses of my past. But mostly, and most importantly, I feel excited for the future. Now, I show up to life. And as long as I can show up to life (and for life), my intuition tells me it is bound to be an amazing ride.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • Nothing Left to Prove: The Joy of Growing Older in Recovery

    Nothing Left to Prove: The Joy of Growing Older in Recovery

    I entered recovery in handcuffs. I had chipped teeth, abscesses, a fresh diagnosis of Hepatitis C. But there I was, sitting in my County orange-colored jumpsuit, breathing in the fragrance of fresh opportunities.

    I invested hundreds of thousands of dollars with the idea that I would be dead by the time I was 30 years old. I was killing myself on an installment plan, knowing the bill would one day be due. I’m not sure if it was genetics or environment, but unfortunately suicidal ideation was a frequent companion starting when I was in sixth grade. The soft-spoken psychologist in the glasses with the round frames said I was “depressed.” I wasn’t quite sure what that meant. I did know I was restless in my own skin. It would be five more years before the warm gloss of drugs lacquered over my feelings.

    If an early demise was the result of continuing on this path, young me speculated that I was willing to pay the price. I didn’t want to live long enough to be touched by the ugly reality the future had in store for me. Ugly was the world my parents lived in: Married for decades, they argued on a daily basis over his drinking and her compulsive shopping. I would sit in my footie pajamas, playing with my stuffed animals, pretending for a moment I was someone else. This was good training for my years of active addiction. I always wished I was someone different. 

    Addiction Was for Other People

    As I delved into the world of drugs, I saw the premature expiration date emerge in the people around me. People just looked older — pain trapped in their cloudy eyes. Young me said that could never happen. Addiction was for other people.

    I was both naive and nihilistic when I took those first few forays into “partying.” Day drinking led to cocaine-fueled nights. There were benzos and meth and whatever I could get my hands on. By the time I got to opioids, I was firmly entrenched in addiction. Heroin became the cornerstone of my self-defeating belief system: The only day worth living was today; that day was only worth living if I had enough drugs. As my habit increased, so did the sinking feeling in the pit of my upset stomach that any day might be my last.

    Maybe this wasn’t what I actually wanted for myself. 

    If Only…

    Wrapped in the covering of a slowly hardening young woman was still this quiet little being who wanted to know what it felt like to be loved. My body was a means for getting the attention I desired, the substances the keys to unlocking my inhibitions. I desperately sought the approval of others. If only I was thin enough, if only I was pretty enough, if only I changed these few things about myself maybe then you would love me. But heroin numbed my ability to care. 

    I had no value beyond what my body could obtain for me. While my addiction included many radically low points, the wear and tear on this unit forced me to gain perspective. Time was crawling along at the same snail’s pace of the dealers I paged from dirty payphones. This can’t be all that life has to offer. I spent nearly a decade dying — what would it be like to live?

    At 27-years-young, I entered recovery in handcuffs. The legacy of impermanence was marked on my physical self: chipped teeth, stretch marks from the weight I’d lost, gained, lost, and gained again. There were circles on my body from areas where I had picked my skin. Holes from abscesses. A fresh diagnosis of Hepatitis C. But there I was, sitting in my County orange-colored jumpsuit, breathing in the fragrance of fresh opportunities. 

    No Shortcuts to Healing

    Asking for rehab was, as the judge stated, the first “intelligent decision” I had made in a decade. I briskly completed a god-awful rehab with horrible success rates as I was eager to move to the next phase of life. I moved into a sober living facility with two garbage bags of belongings and the weight of all my regrets. It wasn’t the material possessions that concerned me, it was the fact that I was going to have to learn to adapt to the world using the vague internal strength I was told I possessed. I was now in charge of the well-being of this newly sober woman of substance. There would be no shortcuts to healing. 

    The process of unraveling the years of unhealthy living started with a whimper. There were 12-step meetings, shitty jobs, meditation, yoga, long walks, inventories, caffeine, terrible sex, and tears shed in front of a paid professional. I needed to cast off the attachment inherent to the vessel given to me by the universe before I could see my value. The adversity I have experienced has made me stronger; like coal pressed into a diamond, I learned I could shine. 

    The day before my 30th birthday, I started dating someone who I would later discover to be the love of my life. This was a less than perfect love, not like the ones in the books I read as a child. It was a realistic love, one that takes out the garbage. It was the kind of love I needed. I finished my degree at 35, and finished graduate school at 37. I found a career I actually enjoyed. I had my last child when I was almost 41. I began to not only see a future for myself but actually start to create one. 

    Hot Flashes and Freedom

    The passing of time has had many challenges: the death of my beloved mother, a few surgeries requiring opioids, my kids screaming they hate me. I have also outlived nearly everyone I knew. Yet, I am happier than I have ever been. There is a liberation of the spirit in knowing I have nothing left to prove. I enjoy the simple pleasures of a good face cream and a tight hug. I also dress in layers. 

    Perimenopause has been a horrible wake-up call. There are days when the anxiety makes me feel like I am slowly being ripped out of my skin. Caffeine, my last addiction, has become my enemy. In my 40’s, a bottomless cup of coffee has been replaced by herbal tea. Sleeping in a pool of sweat under two blankets and a sleeping bag was something I never expected to experience again after I kicked dope. It’s like my body is its own micro climate. My hair is thinning in spots. My nails are brittle. My tolerance for foolishness is at an all-time low. Yet, there is a freedom in being the raw and uncut version of myself. I have acceptance of my strengths and limitations. I want to enjoy every single day of my life. 

    I’m old now, or at least what I once considered old. I have three pairs of reading glasses strewn about my house. Hot flashes and night sweats are the current alarm bells that wake me up in the morning. My chest is starting to sag, followed by my neck. There’s the consistent search for garments that can adequately hide my midsection. I find myself asking for recommendations for shoes that have arch support. But I’ve also achieved a level of satisfaction knowing I have 21 years of mostly good decisions under my belt. At 49, I have the freedom I so desperately sought in my youth. 

    Tomorrow is not promised. And I don’t know how much longer I have left in this world. I spent hundreds of thousands of dollars trying to kill myself. But in the process of dying, I realized I wanted to live.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • I Don’t Always Feel Better After a 12-Step Meeting

    I Don’t Always Feel Better After a 12-Step Meeting

    Why would someone continue to go to something that they don’t always like and don’t feel immediate relief from? I’m playing the long game.

    I can’t seem to figure it out, the sinking feeling in my gut, the feeling that I am too visible, too likely to be ogled and leered at by some man old enough to be my father. What the actual hell is this feeling in my gut? I call it a homesick feeling. Maybe it is something else entirely, but it makes me want to cloak myself in a protective layer, strip myself of sexuality and erase the sexualized parts of myself. I feel a deep shame and am overcome with a sorrowful lonesomeness as if a hole has cracked into existence and swallowed me whole. I feel stripped naked: Too visible. Too human. Too vulnerable.

    It happens almost every time, at almost every 12-step meeting. I want to disappear. There is a black hole in my gut, a homesick longing that begs me to give in, and I would, if I knew what it wanted. I fear it wants to swallow me whole.

    An Emptiness Inside Me

    I don’t always feel better after attending a recovery group meeting; sometimes at the end I feel worse than I did before I got there. I don’t share the experience of always feeling supported and comfortable that seems to echo through the rooms. At nearly every 12-step meeting, someone invariably says, “When I walk into the rooms, I feel immediately at ease and at home.” 

    Well, I don’t.

    There are times when the entire affair goes swimmingly. I’ll laugh and relate and feel at ease. I will connect to other people’s shares and fully articulate my own. It will all be very nice and fun. It will feel really good, on all fronts. Then, as soon as I leave, a pit in my stomach opens and I can feel myself falling in. Other times the aching lonesomeness begins as soon as I step inside the room.

    Dangerous Adaptability

    I survived my life because I could change according to outside circumstances. It has always felt dangerous to do anything other than adapt. For much of my life, it was dangerous.

    From my adaptations have sprung multiple versions of me. Other people are privy to the Light-Hearted Jokester and the Loud and In Charge Diplomat. Being honest when sharing about my experience with addiction and recovery means another part of myself might become visible. I have spent a lot of time with Depressed Me and revealing her is scary. The Quiet One fears she makes people uncomfortable with her silence. She’s acutely aware that she is not the Jokester and doesn’t want to be noticed and doesn’t want to slip into Depression in public.

    My defenses are up in spaces where I’m allowing unvetted people to know something real about my life. I begin to feel unworthy and not good enough: proof that my worst enemy is my own mind. My instinct tells me: Don’t reach out for a while. Don’t be early for the meeting tonight, go late to avoid chitchat and leave early. My brain fills with excuses to avoid discussions and socializing.

    Getting to know me means you may grow to understand who I am in all my contradictions, which will make it harder for me to adapt. I know that facilitating communication between all of myself is necessary for healing. But the truth is, sometimes it’s really difficult. It’s difficult to be seen, to be open. Yet each time I attend a meeting, that is exactly what I’m doing. I’m expressing myself with complete honesty. I am trusting the process, despite my fear and discomfort.

    I can no longer neglect the parts I’ve long tried to keep hidden. Together we must heal. Together is the only way we can heal.

    Playing the Long Game in Recovery

    Why would someone continue to go to something that they don’t always like and don’t feel immediate relief from? I’m playing the long game. Seeking immediate relief is what I did in active alcoholism. In recovery, I’m learning to resist that behavior. 

    Over time I have seen the subtle and dramatic improvements in my mental wellbeing and quality of life. I can see the changes in my life outside of those meetings. The people around me notice my rediscovered joy, my grounded perspective, my newly formed boundaries. I go to the meetings because it’s part of a treatment plan that works for me. It’s a commitment I made to myself. A commitment to heal from trauma, because I deserve to experience a better life than I once lived. 

    I feel inspired by the possibility that if I keep trying, the healing work will be able to fill the hole that is always there; the emptiness which has eternally been ebbing and flowing in strength, making me happy and fearful in turn. I’m aiming for a stable emotional baseline. 

    It’s not going to happen overnight, but it is happening over time. The inspiration itself comforts the sorrow.

    Progress Not Perfection

    When I first got sober, I was in a very dark place. I was trapped in my own head and despite having survived everything, I couldn’t feel safe. I could only feel the pain from the past. I thought I was alone. I believed I was too broken, too sick, too lost. Finding anyone else who could truly understand what I was going through seemed out of the question. I didn’t think I was unique or special in my pain, I just believed I was hopeless. 

    Then I found a therapist, a psychiatrist, and 12-step meetings. All of which worked in tandem to lead me from the darkness.

    Today I’m not feeling that despair or sorrow. I feel content more often than I feel abject depression. I used to cry every single day and now I laugh every day. I used to swing from one overwhelming emotion to another, with no control over where my mind was taking me.

    Climbing out is an ongoing effort, but what kept me down—one of many things—was that I expected myself to be just be “better.” I thought I had to be different than I was. I now accept that this is hard work, but the results keep me doing it. It isn’t supposed to always be easy. I have to continually work on dismantling the defensive walls that have become maladaptive in their formations. 

    So, I let myself be, I take breaks to enjoy the view that is coming into perspective as the stones of my fortifications are disassembled. Sometimes I get scared, and put back a stone that was particularly heavy, afraid to lose such a significant tool of protection. That’s okay, too. I try not to judge myself. It’s a journey of progress, not perfection.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • Florence Welch Discusses Sobriety And Anxiety While Touring

    Florence Welch Discusses Sobriety And Anxiety While Touring

    “Most of the things in my life have got exponentially better from not drinking, but it’s lonely being sober on big tours,” Welch revealed. 

    Florence Welch, frontwoman of the indie rock band Florence + The Machine, recently opened up about the loneliness of touring while sober and the anxiety that comes at the beginning of every tour. Though it’s not easy on her, Welch says that it’s the fans that get her through it and eventually get her to enjoy the shows.

    “Most of the things in my life have got exponentially better from not drinking, but it’s lonely being sober on big tours,” she said in an interview with ES Magazine. “But really it’s the people at the shows that save me.”

    Welch has been open about her issues with alcohol use, as well as her depression and anxiety, for years. In a 2018 interview with The Guardian, she spoke on how she used alcohol in order to cope with the stress of touring.

    “That’s when the drinking and the partying exploded as a way to hide from it,” she explained. “The partying was about me not wanting to deal with the fact that my life had changed, not wanting to come down.”

    However, by her 10th year as a high-profile singer, Welch had decided that she didn’t want to go down that path anymore. Like an increasing number of people, she decided to go sober even though she didn’t necessarily have a severe addiction. Thankfully, she found that becoming sober from both drugs and alcohol has significantly reduced her overall anxiety.

    “I think I’ve probably had it low-level, and sometimes extreme, for as long as I can remember,” she told ES. “Stopping drinking and taking drugs has had a hugely helpful effect.”

    Welch, a self-described introvert, said that she feels like she’s “going into shock” during the initial days of any tour — an experience that keeps her up at night and drives her to call her manager to say “I just can’t do this. This is the last one.” Thankfully, she soon gets into the flow and by the end, she “can’t wait to go back and play.”

    Mental illness and substance use disorders often overlap. According to the Anxiety and Depression Association of America, “it isn’t unusual for people with social anxiety disorder – or other anxiety disorders – to drink excessively to cope with symptoms or try to escape them.”

    Approximately 20% of individuals suffering from social anxiety disorder also struggle with an alcohol use disorder, compared to 6.2% in the general population.

    View the original article at thefix.com