by Paula Caruselle
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anxiety
Reality Bites
by Shannon Valerde
Stop by my house on a Tuesday night, and you probably wouldn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. My husband, kids and I are probably eating dinner, or maybe we’re outside playing if the weather is nice. Possibly one of us would be on bath duty while the other picked up the bajillion toys that are scattered about the house. Continue reading
“Great” Moments of Panic
by Sue Caulfield
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
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
A Journey from Self-Preservation to Advocacy
by Katy Hamm
I suffer from anxiety and depression.
Statistically that is not an uncommon thing, but there is still a great deal of stigma that presents with identifying with any mental health issue.
My troubles began my freshman year of college, when I found I had a great deal of social anxiety, which brought out my depression. A depression that multiplied after my best friend Emily was killed by a drunk driver that following summer. Continue reading
Thick Skin and Therapy
by Sue Caulfield
My grandma Millie did her fair share of worrying as a grandma. I would venture to guess that may be a trait of the Italian women in my family that I very much inherited. One of my fondest memories is of her comforting me when I would cry; “Mi Susan,” she would say, holding my hand with her cold, beat up hands. “You need to grow thicker skin. I worry about your heart.”
Hitting the Reset Button
by Renee Dowdy
In November I shared a post, What Breaks You, where I wrote about being at a concert with my husband at The Vic in Chicago seeing the Old 97’s (feeling like I’m out of a scene from The Breakup – epic, right?!). I began to panic about having cell phone reception in the theater. Staff in my department expected that I respond to my residential communities 24/7 during the academic year. I kept looking at my work phone, and that’s when the panic came over me like a tidal wave. What if I miss a call? Why can’t I do this job right? Why can’t I seem to do anything right? Why was I hired to do this if I am completely incapable? Were my past six years in residence life just easy – is this the real hard work and I’m failing at it? I’m a failure. An absolute mess. Continue reading
Grad School Selfie
by Monica Fochtman
I drew this picture of myself in spring 2007 when I was a full-time doctoral student. It was part of an assignment for our qualitative research methods class. I remember being excited to draw this picture because I thought that my fellow graduate students’ self-portraits would look similar, and I looked forward to kvetching about grad school life when we shared them in our small groups. At the time, my other roles included: mother, wife, part-time graduate assistant, and daughter and sister to a far-away family that was in crisis. These roles were obviously weighing heavily on me and my psyche. Clearly the person in this photo was not well. I was not well. Continue reading