Things No One Will Tell Fat Girls (19 page)

   
  
Always keep those jumper cables on hand.
These are the little actions that give us that quick, happy boost when our battery dies, when we “break down.” Each person's jumper cables look a little different. Getting that jump-start could come from reading an inspiring book. Hopping in the shower. Going for a walk. Watching a movie. Getting dolled up. Make a list like the one you made in (or check your list from) Option 2 above.

   
  
Get some friends to help you push.
Remember that five-legged stool of supports we talked about in Option 1? USE THAT! Friends and others in your support system will help you get off the side of the road when you simply can't push the car by yourself. They're there to help you when you get stuck, and if someone's arms get tired, there are others who will be able to come take a turn!

   
  
Make an appointment with your mechanic.
SO CRITICAL. Many times, we simply need professional help—people who are trained, educated, and outside the situation so they have a clear perspective. It could be a therapist, counselor, doctor, or
psychiatrist. Allow yourself to ask for professional help if you need it. These people exist for a damn good reason.

But still, you can do all the “right things” and your car might break down. Maybe your car is extra clunky like mine. If that's the case, let me make this clear: The resting state of your car is NOT your fault. Feeling guilty or shameful about breaking down will get us nowhere. All we can do is learn how to tune it up to the best of our ability, and, when we max out our skills, use the resources around us.

And as my goddamnwonderful boyfriend recently reminded me: “Even high-performance and super-sexy race cars break down, babe.”
Oh yeah!
I realized. And they need an entire TEAM to put them back on the road.

Option 5: Put your self-care FIRST.

If there's only one thing you leave with from this chapter, I hope it is:
Take care of yourself above all else
. It isn't greedy. It isn't selfish. It's absolutely necessary, and this concept can translate into every part of your life. Author and feminist activist Audre Lorde has a quote that begins with, “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation.” And I say: AMEN.

Self-care can include anything you need to keep going. Cooking. Exercise. Medical care. Setting boundaries. Ridding your life of toxic people. Cultivating positive friendships. Sleep. Getting counseling. Journaling. Reading. Meditating. Carving out “you time.” Any actions that help your physical, mental, and emotional well-being. Whatever it is that makes you feel whole and happy . . . do more of that.

I learned the importance of self-care quickly once I started working in mental health. Previously I had worked as a full-time baker, which included long days of heavy labor on my feet doing mass production. It was not sedentary work by any means. But during my first week doing job coaching for adults with mental illness on how
to make a single batch of cookies, I left ten times as exhausted, after producing ten times LESS product. I couldn't figure out why I was working so much less but feeling it so much more. How does that even happen?

The reason was a thing called compassion fatigue, and it's important enough to warrant entire books written about it.

Compassion fatigue is a common occurrence that happens to caretakers who work with individuals in emotionally taxing situations, like I was doing. Caretakers of any kind are professionally encouraged to up the ante when it comes to taking care of themselves so they can survive and avoid burnout.

I would argue that there is some element of compassion fatigue for everyone, even if the source of their paychecks doesn't fall under the umbrella of “caretaker.” Parents, those who are members of families, people who are friends to others . . . I'm looking at you.

And compassion fatigue is really common in people who are taught that caring for others is far more important than taking care of themselves. Which is completely and totally backwards. When you put your well-being before anything else, you have more energy, space, and heart to assist others. It's the only way it really works.

We ALL could use a little more self-care.

Comprende
?

Now on to the topic of serious mental illness.

I'm going to skip the clinical jargon and go for the super-simple explanation: A serious mental illness is a brain disorder that highly impairs an individual's life. Serious mental illnesses affect 9.6 million of us every year in the U.S., so collectively they impact our lives on a monumental level.
²

A lot of people wonder why I use the word “illness” to describe mental disorders. The simple reason is that I believe a person with mental illness actually
has an illness
(defined by Merriam-Webster as
“a specific condition that prevents your body or mind from working normally: a sickness or disease”).
³
It's not a fabricated nuisance. It's not something that can be wished away.

We don't culturally shame someone who has, for example, a brain tumor, yet we often marginalize those who are trying to cope with, say, bipolar disorder. Writer Susie Campbell answers the question, “What if we treated every illness the way we treat mental illness?” in a cartoon she created with that title, where her characters say things like “I'm getting very tired of this
cancer
of yours.”
⁴

If you're more comfortable with calling it a “brain glitch” or “biological deficiency,” by all means DO! I believe even using terms like those could help us get closer to talking about the true nature of mental illness. I plan on using that term until the stigma is removed and those with diagnoses are given the support, care, and resources they need. Y'feel?

Now, a serious mental illness is not determined by the NAME of the diagnosis, but rather the intensity with which it affects the person's life, which can vary widely, even for the same person over a period of time. How can we measure this? Back in the day, one of the tools clinicians would use to categorize illnesses was called the Global Assessment of Functioning, or the GAF scale. While the GAF scale has since been replaced by other tools, it's still a great way to clearly demonstrate the many shades of mental illness and how it can affect a person's life. While the tool itself may be outdated, the concept is not, and it has forever changed the way I view mental illness in a positive way.

Imagine a ruler, with marks for every centimeter going from 1 to 100, each of which correlates to how much your brain is helping or hindering you at the moment. The mark at number 1 indicates you're having a really hard time functioning at all, and 99 means your brain is working totally in your favor and nothing could be better! I refuse to use the 100 mark, because I think no one's brain can be flawless, and I like to establish this up front so I don't end
up having a real-talk sit-down with someone that starts with “So, about that
bullshit perfection standard
. . . ”

So, looking at that ruler and starting from 1 and moving to the right,
1–10
indicates persistent danger of severely hurting oneself or others,
or
persistent inability to maintain minimal personal hygiene,
or
a serious suicidal act with clear expectation of death. Marks
31–40
would mean some impairment in perception of reality or ability to communicate,
or
major impairment in work, school, family relations, judgment, or mood. In the range of
61–70
, a person might show some mild symptoms like depressed mood or insomnia,
or
some difficulty in functioning socially or at school, but generally would be able to function fairly well and have some meaningful interpersonal relationships. Toward the end of the ruler in the
81–90
range, symptoms are absent or minimal; you might have mild anxiety before an exam, but otherwise you're basically “functioning” in all areas, are interested and involved in a wide range of activities, and are generally satisfied with life, with no more than everyday problems or concerns.