The Cheez-It Phase

The Cheez-It Phase

You may have noticed that I haven’t written a blog post in about a month. Usually, I don’t take long breaks like this, but thanks to an unexpected family tragedy, I haven’t quite known what to do.

I’ve written about Nana, my beloved grandmother, on this page before. She’s read every blog post, and more than that, she’s supported me through literally everything in my life. And a month ago, she was completely fine.

But then, she had a nervous breakdown. Even after my own breakdown nine years ago, I had no idea how devastating one could be, and I watched her descend further until she required hospitalization from multiple falls. Something broke in her brain, and although we don’t have a completely secure diagnosis, we know a few things: Nana has rapid onset dementia, has lost her ability to take care of herself, and is in hospice, which means she has six months to live at the most.

I know I’m lucky that it’s taken me this long in my life to experience grief like this, but it feels overwhelming nonetheless, and as soon as I got back to Chicago, I was unsure of what to do. I started researching the phases of grief, but nothing made sense. I’m certainly nowhere near acceptance, don’t think I can bargain with anyone about this, and the initial anger has faded to a weird sense of feeling out of control.

I know there is nothing I can do. Her care is already figured out, and nothing I say or do can fix her head or return her to the wonderful person she was just one short month ago. I needed to leave her, go back to Chicago, and figure out how to live my life as best as I could while dealing with all of this.

When my dog Reese died a year and a half ago, I told my therapist that I felt like everything was out of control. Everything was so sudden, and I couldn’t fix anything that actually mattered. She told me that I was right, I couldn’t control the things that would have a large impact - but I could control the littlest things in my life until I felt like things weren’t quite so out of control.

She told me to pay a great deal of attention to the fact that I chose my own outfit for the day and what I ate for dinner, how I organized my desk, and in what order I got my work done. I couldn’t control life and death, or the processes of either, but I could choose these little things and feel like I had at least somewhat of a grasp on things.

This is why, when a friend let me know he was going to visit our neighborhood Wal-Mart before it closed for the last time, I tagged along. I couldn’t control Nana hurtling towards death at an alarming pace, but I could control what was in my pantry, specifically one of my favorite snacks.

As someone who has always been picky with food, I often frustrate people by having a favorite shape or type of common snack foods, and don’t like eating others. I was upset when I heard this Wal-Mart was closing because, so far, it’s the only place where I’ve been able to find Scooby Doo stamped Cheez-Its, which taste better to me since they are crunchier and also have the cute shapes to enjoy.

It’s not that my world would end if I didn’t have the right Cheez-Its in my pantry, but I knew that something small like this was exactly what my therapist would have told me to do at that moment. And so, an hour before the store closed, I bought all five boxes of Scooby Doo Cheez-Its remaining in the store, and texted my therapist:

I told her, “I think I’m in the ‘I can’t control life and death but I can control what’s in my pantry so I’m buying all the Scooby Doo Cheez-Its in the Wal-Mart in the hour before the store permanently closes because they’re good for a long time and that’s one less thing to worry about’ phase of grief,” and although this phrasing is kind of funny, it gets at an important point:

I don’t know how much longer Nana will live, nor will I have the opportunity to speak to the person I loved for so many years once more. I know I’m the sort of person who needs to control things or I will start to spiral - it’s an OCD thing I’ve had to grow used to over my life. And although I don’t know the specifics of how this situation will go, I do know exactly how I will fall apart if I don’t take care of myself.

It feels strange to say this, but somehow, buying enough Cheez-Its that I don’t have to think about a future supply feels like putting a band-aid on the most gaping wound, but it’s somehow still helpful. I know it won’t fix the wound, but it will at least give me the tiniest bit of energy to focus on the things I need to do, and a splash of happiness in a deep well of sadness.

Michelle Cohen, a writer in the Chicago area, was diagnosed with OCD at age 3. She hopes to educate others about her condition and end the stigma against mental illness.

The Great Kiwi-Finding Mission

The Great Kiwi-Finding Mission

On the first day of my trip to New Zealand, I planned to see kiwi birds - a national emblem of the country that is also quite fluffy. As a fan of cute animals and learning about new places, I wanted to start my trip with the iconic kiwis.

I had originally planned to see kiwis at the Auckland Zoo, but when I got there, that part of the zoo had been damaged by recent storms, and the entire area of New Zealand native birds was unavailable for viewing. Unexpectedly, right at the beginning of my trip, I had to change my very first plan.

This hasn’t always been easy for me to do - and I still struggle sometimes to change plans. I prefer to have everything organized well ahead of time, and by the time I went to New Zealand, I had been planning rather obsessively for the previous eleven months and had everything figured out perfectly.

Before I left, my parents reminded me that sometimes things change - and this can leave opportunities for finding fun new things I didn’t know about. But there were some things I considered non-negotiable, like seeing kiwis, and I knew I needed to find a way to make it work.

I still went to the Auckland Zoo to see other animals, but I started to worry. What if I didn’t find another way to see kiwis? Whenever I had a quiet moment that day, I researched the other places my tour would take me and if there would be kiwis there.

My next idea was to visit the Te Puia Kiwi Conservation Centre in Rotorua, on the first full day with my tour group. After a wonderful morning in Hobbiton, we had scheduled time to explore Rotorua, and I said I wouldn’t go to a popular excursion with most of the group so I could see kiwis. Little did I know, the kiwi center closed before I even got there, and so I made a quick decision to join the group for their evening activities. I ended up seeing a haka (war chant), eating food cooked in the ground, and watching glow worms in their natural habitat - none of which I thought I would be able to do in New Zealand, and none of which I would have done if my original plan worked out.

I was encouraged by this, and therefore not too disappointed when I tried to see kiwis in Nelson to little success. The trip was nearly halfway over at this point, and after asking several tour guides, I reached the conclusion that the last day of the tour was going to be my only option for seeing kiwis.

It stressed me out to leave it to the last minute, but on a trip like this, I had no choice. I had control over some of the activities I was doing, but much of it was decided for me, and since I had assumed I would be seeing kiwis at the beginning of the trip, I hadn’t planned any other kiwi outings. I had to simply wait and see - something my brain finds very difficult to do.

I’m happy to report that, on the last day of the tour, I and several of my new friends visited the Queenstown Kiwi Park and saw many rare New Zealand birds including kiwis. As I watched the surprisingly large brown birds snuffle in the dirt, I was thrilled that I managed to make it work.

My own overthinking and overplanning tendencies aside, I grew up in a family where vacation spreadsheets were mandatory and everyone knew what we were going to be doing at all times. I’m not used to figuring things out “on the fly” on vacation or at home, and the mission to find kiwis was something that I was really worried was not going to come to fruition.

In the end, I saw kiwis twice - I visited the Kiwi Park again after the tour ended - and brought home a plush kiwi I can hug whenever I want. And more than that, I learned that I can be more resilient than I thought, even when things don’t go the way I think they will.

Michelle Cohen, a writer in the Chicago area, was diagnosed with OCD at age 3. She hopes to educate others about her condition and end the stigma against mental illness.

With Friends, You Can Climb (And Descend) Mountains

With Friends, You Can Climb (And Descend) Mountains

Most of the time, when I make new friends, I try to present myself as someone social, easy to get along with, and uncomplicated - I don’t want the things I struggle with to give a bad first impression.

On my recent trip to New Zealand, I was very conscious of this, but in a different way than usual. I wanted to make the best first impression possible, while not hiding any part of myself at all - which is something I’ve never tried to do before. This translated into wanting to do every possible Lord of the Rings-related experience even if it was something very out of my wheelhouse - including mountain climbing.

I will admit that the climbing I did didn’t require hooks or too much gear, but for me, it was something brand new and exhausting in multiple ways. I could handle being out of breath while walking up the sheer slope of Mt. Sunday, but as I ascended higher and higher, I realized that a combined fear of heights and getting hurt while on blood thinners was going to make the climb down an incredibly difficult obstacle.

I had a walking stick with me, and great company to chat with, but neither of those convinced me that I would be able to descend the mountain after our photoshoot at the set of Edoras. But because I wanted to participate in every Lord of the Rings experience, I continued to climb and pushed the fear to the back of my mind. That was a problem for later.

Problem was, “later” eventually arrived after many photos with wooden swords, flags, and triumphant facial expressions. Before long, it was time to turn around and head down, and all I could picture was slipping on one of the many little rocks on the nonexistent trail and plummeting down, bleeding and breaking bones and missing out on the rest of the trip and having to face my fear of going to the hospital alone and looking like a coward in front of my new friends.

Before long, I was petrified to take even a single step, and feeling increasingly ashamed as people much older than me passed me without a care. I chided myself for making a spectacle of myself and my cowardice, but I still couldn’t convince myself to go down the rocks with no railings, stairs, or anything to help me find my footing.

And that was when a few of my new friends - one person who I knew well, and another who I had barely interacted with - stepped in.

I was embarrassed that people noticed I was struggling, but quickly felt supported in a way I don’t usually experience. People tend to try to make me push past fear with either ribbing or telling me I’m not thinking things through, neither of which actually helps - but these two simply walked by my side, offered a hand at the steeper parts where I needed it, and carried on a gentle conversation to help distract me.

This may have seemed like a simple gesture, and it was certainly low effort, but it meant so much that people were willing to meet me where I was at instead of trying to shame me into something different. It’s like when people try to make fun of me for not eating the way they think I should, but it doesn’t actually make me change, it just makes me feel bad about myself and not want to be honest with people.

On this trip, I had so many opportunities to be honest with people about the good times and the bad, and was accepted equally for both. It may have taken me longer than almost everyone else to make it down the mountain, but the mere presence of people who I knew were on my side and willing to help me made the descent easier than I could have imagined. The steep slopes still scared me, but it was harder to spiral into negative thoughts of fear and falling when I wasn’t alone.

The mountain descent was just one of many moments during my New Zealand trip where I felt like I was accepted exactly as I am - and it reinforced that even though it’s hard to not feel embarrassed or ashamed, it’s so much easier to get through difficult emotions when there are kind, caring people by your side.

Michelle Cohen, a writer in the Chicago area, was diagnosed with OCD at age 3. She hopes to educate others about her condition and end the stigma against mental illness.

Finding My People

Finding My People

When I first watched Grey’s Anatomy years ago, I was intrigued by the idea of finding what the show called “your person” - someone who would understand you on such a deep level that it’s easy to form a powerful bond.

It took me a long time, but on my recent trip to New Zealand, I finally found “my people.”

I was hoping it would happen. I’d been planning this trip since I was fourteen and read an article about a tour company that led people throughout Middle-Earth. There were “normal” destinations too, but I let the article fill my head with descriptions of running through Edoras, reenacting battles on the Pelennor Fields, and eating second breakfast in Hobbiton with people who would enjoy it just as much as me.

It didn’t take me long to realize that, after so many years of searching, I found “my people.” I didn’t even make it to the introductory dinner before I met people who appreciated my Lord of the Rings t-shirt and shared their plans for playing music and cosplaying in Hobbiton.

When I sent pictures home, my family and friends commented that they had never seen me smile so wide, and yet it looked completely natural. A major part of it was going on a trip I’ve dreamed of most of my life, but an equally big part was going with people who I felt like I had known forever even though we had just met.

It was the only time in my life when I felt like I didn’t have to pretend to be someone else or worry about how much of my true personality I was letting slip through, and people liked me anyway.

This is a mindset I’ve never been used to after growing up as someone weird, strange, odd. I was often called a freak when I wasn’t able to hide what was going on in my head. And in terms of the positive obsessions that kept me above water, I learned to hide this part of myself even though it was my favorite part, the thing about me that brought the most joy to my life.

As an adult, I learned to let my passions out in certain situations. I started dressing up and going to conventions, but it always felt too short. It’s hard to make a deep bond in two days, especially when most of my time at conventions is split between rushing to make panels, carefully planning my shopping, and entering Magic: The Gathering tournaments.

But this trip felt like the euphoria of the annual elf party at DragonCon for 18 days straight, and I couldn’t have been happier if I tried. Instead of trying to adapt myself to everyone else, I was finally with a group of people who I could understand and who were just like me - people who made me feel like I belonged without having to do anything other than be myself. There was no acting, faking, or overthinking - something that’s hard to even imagine as someone who always had to choreograph my social life.

But I was not the only person who cried with joy when buying replica swords at Weta Workshop or frolicking in an elf dress in the forest. I had a real fight on my hands with the trivia competition, with people who cared about Tolkien and his world as much as I did. I had people to sit with on the bus and at every meal, spend time with every evening after our tour activities ended, and discuss every topic I had ever been told was “too weird” and “no one would ever be interested in.”

Being with this group of people made me brave. I tried more new foods on this trip than I ever have. I did adventure activities that scared me and toughed it out even when the fear really started getting to me. I did all sorts of things I could never imagine myself doing, from riding a gondola to the highest heights of a city to receiving sincere “yearbook” messages in my journal instead of the phony messages I always got in school.

Very, very long story short, I have - after thirty years of searching - found “my people.” I will continue to tell stories of this life-changing trip over the next several weeks on my blog and photo series, and look forward to sharing so many of the moments I never believed I could have.

I finally, finally fit in. As myself, no acting, no games. Just me. And I couldn’t be happier.

Michelle Cohen, a writer in the Chicago area, was diagnosed with OCD at age 3. She hopes to educate others about her condition and end the stigma against mental illness.

My Hope

My Hope

I was born and bred in Beijing, the capital of China, a traditional and conservative environment. In China, mental health is less valued, and there is a lack of mental health knowledge which perpetuates deep cultural stigma, and because of this stigma and lack of resources, people are not getting the help they need.  According to the Disease Control and Prevention's Mental Health Center of China, over 100 million people in China have a mental health disorder, and 16 million have a severe mental health disorder.    How many of the 100 million people with mental health disorders receive services is unclear.  What is clear is that I am one of the people who has struggled with a mental health disorder.  

When I started college in Beijing, I experienced increased anxiety and depression due to the pressures of entrance exams and concern for my future. I also realized at this time that I am a sensitive person who is a people pleaser and an empath.  An empath is a person highly tuned into the feelings and emotions of those around them. Empaths pick up on the feelings of others on a deep emotional level.  Being an empath gives me good insight, but at the same time, it can be exhausting because I take on the emotions of others.  I became depressed, and because I did not know how to cope, I became anxious about my inaction and felt stuck.  I knew something was wrong with my mental state, so I sought help from the university’s counseling center.  I did not get the help that I needed. Instead, I received strange looks, and they made me repeat my thoughts and behaviors.   I felt that my struggles with anxiety and depression could be resolved with therapy.  The counseling center dismissed me and suggested I go to the hospital to meet with a Psychiatrist for medication.  Therapy was not given as a treatment option.  I felt so powerless at the time. I did not know anyone who went to therapy while growing up or in college, as it was never discussed.  

After self-healing, medication, and time, I felt like myself again. Looking back, I learned that when darkness falls, the dawn is coming, and so is the sun.  I learned to embrace who I am and know that my dark feelings will not last forever. I remember my guidance counselor in high school said,  

“If you can live with your emotions and accept yourself for who you are, then you can focus on learning skills and strategies to cope with daily life.”

Research shows that sharing personal stories is one of the most significant ways to reduce the stigma surrounding mental health issues. Thus, I decided to support others who were struggling and share my journey.   I posted some information on my social media page, saying I was a “safe place” where you could share their concerns and feelings about school, dating, family, etc. Soon many people were reaching out to me to share their struggles.  

This experience taught me that I wanted to become a social worker.  My hope is to help others unblock their emotions and offer support through talk therapy and communication.  I want to bring as much warmth as possible to those who need help so that they can find hope.   I want to use my own practice to make up for the lack of resources in China so that those as helpless as I was can understand there are ways to get the proper guidance and help. I want to help people feel like they are not alone. I have learned the power of growing from one's own life experiences. I have become more independent, stronger, and more confident. All experiences have meaning, and I hope that my experiences can make my life and the lives of others more meaningful.

Therapy and counseling reflect the humanitarian ideal I constantly keep in my heart and is the professional route I am resolved to follow.  I deeply know that mental health education and awareness in China is less developed than in the United States, so I came aboard to study further, hoping to learn theory and get my license to practice social work. My goal is to assist teenagers in successfully navigating adolescence, figuring out difficulties, establishing proper mental health disorder diagnoses, and obtaining the right therapy when they experience concerns. I hope my future therapy practice will support teens to grow into healthy human beings capable of realizing their full potential and contributing to society. Long term, I'll do all in my power to influence policy changes in China and spearhead the reform of mental health care. 

QY is a first-year graduate student at the University of Chicago, Crown Family School of Social Work, Policy, and Practice.