My Initials are AC

by Angel Caulfield

OCD, PTSD, ADD, ADHD, BP. Don’t let your mental illness define you. Let it make you stronger – because you are so much more than the definition of your struggle. You are stronger because you carry a bigger package than most, all while attending to life’s everyday loads.

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A View of Anxiety from a #SAPro of Color

by Sylvester Gaskin

I know I’m in trouble when the palms of my hands sweat.

I was at NASPA 2014 in Baltimore, and I was struggling. All I wanted was a quiet space to check some e-mail and catch my breath. It was already an uncomfortable place to be in. I was surrounded by so many people, so much noise, and not a lot of diversity. I really didn’t know anyone, as it was my first NASPA experience, and the people I met at a Knowledge Community meeting were engaging with their own friends and colleagues. Continue reading

Recognizing Myself

by Jessi Robinson

In 1994, I was a high school freshman. My arms and wrists were covered in scratches and small cuts. I was convinced the world would be better off without me. I just wanted to go away, be alone, and not bother or be bothered by other people.

And then one day I was called out of class to be confronted by the adjustment counselor and my parents, who whisked me off to my mom’s therapist to get some meds and therapy. My friends had noticed my behavior, arms, and the things I was saying. I was lucky. Continue reading

How I’ve Learned to Thrive, Not Just Manage

by Sara Ackerson

I’ve become pretty good at getting through each day, actually thriving, and not just managing my illness.  You most likely wouldn’t even know unless I disclosed it to you.  I live with an extrovert personality, a cup of coffee, and a flexible work schedule that allows for me to have dedicated time for my monthly psychiatrist appointments and other self-care without having to ask for sick time off on a regular basis. Continue reading

Challenges and Support: Relationships and Mental Illness

by Dan McDowell

It was about four and a half years ago when I realized I couldn’t be enough of a resource for my partner. More often than not, the night ended with her crying in my arms, asking when it would be okay. I knew it was something that could and would happen, but I wasn’t sure how or when. One of these evenings, I was finally able to say aloud to her that I couldn’t help her on my own and my suggestion that she talk to someone finally hit home for her. Continue reading