A loving relationship can be an oasis in uncertain times, but nurturing it requires attention, honesty, openness, vulnerability, and gratitude.
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A therapist reflects on her journey of mental illness and healing, and what lies ahead.
Andrea Rosenhaft LCSW-R
There is nothing as painful as suicidal depression. It permeates every millimeter of your body and there is no relief.
I’m living in a space where my physical and mental health feel tentative every day.
As a writer, we talk a lot about the pain of rejection, but not about the agony of waiting for a decision. I submit essays to literary journals, then I wait.
The bad news is I had a second stroke. The good news is they caught it in time.
I keep returning to the summer of 2018, when we learned of the tragic suicides of celebrities Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain, just days apart.
My last blog post was about the week before last being the week from hell. I had no idea what was yet to come. OMG, three emergencies, over the course of four days.
Overwhelmed in one part of my life, the other came together with awesomeness.
I’m having these irrational thoughts that I know to be irrational, and yet, I am powerless to stop them.
Starting in August, I’m going to be doing some peer coaching.
One thing after another left me the closest I came to falling apart in years.
Although we are born with a certain temperament, it can be changed over time. I was born with a very sensitive temperament. Every comment was turned over and dissected in my mind.
Many people think of mental illness as detracting from their lives. Mine did at first. But in healing, I gained a resiliency I never had.
I’m writing this post at 1:23 a.m. on July 4th. Happy Independence Day, and I mean that with the utmost sincerity.
I swore to myself I’m not going to weigh myself until this damn thing is out of me. I went to the ER a couple of weeks ago for severe abdominal pain.
We looked at each other and Daniel finally voiced the question both of us had been ruminating on. “Why doesn’t he just die already and leave us alone?”
I heard that phrase for the first time in many years earlier this week. It was the phrase my mother and I used to say to each other.
I refuse to accept this mental clumsiness. And each day I awake poised to fight.
A photo of a pup with the sweetest face, cream-colored with tan markings, came onto my screen. Her left ear stood straight up and the very top of her right ear curled inward.
I’m excited about a free live webinar I’m scheduled to give in conjunction with the National Education Alliance of BPD: "Harmony in BPD Recovery: How both DBT and TFP led to full recovery from BPD."
Every year as this country and Hallmark begin the countdown to Mother’s Day in early May, I convince myself I won’t be affected by the typical ads for flowers and perfume.
I can’t believe it’s been 30 years since I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder (BPD). I won’t say the time has flown because it hasn’t.
I’m not one to take my mental health for granted. I’ve worked too hard for my emotional stability. I grew complacent once with disastrous results.
"We are bringing together leaders and visionaries for a day of activism to challenge unconscious bias and empower women."
I’m grateful I had access to treatment for my psychiatric illness, which provided me with the opportunity to recover. I’ve launched a mental health organization, BWellBStrongBPD.
This nurse saved my life in 2015 when I went to the ER for what seemed to be a severe asthma attack and the doctors sent me home. This is how I showed my appreciation.
With Gratitude. one year, six months and 28 days ago, my life changed in an instant. Over Memorial Day weekend of 2018, I suffered a stroke.
When someone you love has passed, you may be aware of the feeling that they are still watching you, they remain in your corner, cheering you on. They might make their presence known.
A psychiatric advanced directive (PAD) is a document that may be used to detail a person’s specific instructions or preferences regarding future mental health treatment.
The borderline personality disorder (BPD) community suffered an indescribable loss this past week when Perry Hoffman, Ph.D., the president and cofounder of the NEABPD, passed away.
I walked out of the castle, yes castle, trying to sort out all these uncomfortable feelings fighting for space inside me. I was aware I felt left out, but it went deeper than that.
Andrea Rosenhaft, LCSW-R is a licensed clinical social worker.