Maybe that's why they are called Camp Counselors?

Maybe that's why they are called Camp Counselors?

Anyone who works with children and adolescents must be attune to their emotional needs. This is especially true for overnight camps. At many camps there are staff members devoted to the mental health of their population.

Back in the 19’s (as my kids like to call it) that wasn’t the case. Do kids have more mental health problems today than they did 25-50 years ago or are they just not swept under the carpet?

I cannot answer that question. What I can tell you is I remember the first person who “saw” me was a camp counselor at a Jewish overnight camp.  In two weeks, she picked up on two problematic behaviors: frequent stomach aches requiring the attention of the nurse and self deprecation as humor.

One Shabbat we took a walk, and she asked me,

“Why do you only make jokes about yourself?”

“Why do you always hold your stomach?”

“Why did you tear up that letter from home?”

She taught me the phrase “low self-esteem” and explained that I had an inaccurate picture of myself. Knowing that my family had drawn the picture, I could see she was unsure of what to do next.

After her next day off, Taryn brought me a journal to write in. “I want you to write five positive thoughts about yourself every day,” she said. “Then you can see yourself as everyone else sees you.”

I honestly don’t remember what happened next - if I wrote in the journal or not. As an adult, I can recognize that while Taryn was well meaning, perhaps she was a bit out of bounds. Today, we’d tell Taryn to bring her concerns about me to someone with more qualifications. I would say the same.

But that doesn’t change my experience: Taryn in identifying that the way I felt about myself was not normal and that the way my family spoke about me was inappropriate, and as I’ve come to understand, abusive, was empowering. She couldn’t take away my pain, but she started my journey of change that began as a little girl and continues every day of my life.

So thank you to all of the camp counselors, social workers, unit heads, assistants, all of you who help kids, “see them,” and do so much. You are the unsung heroes of summer and we appreciate you.

-anonymous is a writer and teacher who has struggled with anxiety, depression and body dysmorphia since the 19’s. 

Don't Get Hobbled by Regret

Obsessive regret, for many people with mental illness, can be toxic and potentially undercuts a tenuous stability during recovery.

Regret emerges in response to recalled destructive memories, but not in a nostalgic sort of way. It focuses negatively on the past instead of the promise of the future. Regret fills the mind with mourning for what could have been different in our lives, particularly what our lives would have been like if we did not have a mental illness. It cannot go well.

Managing a mental disorder requires learning how to walk into the future without being maimed by the unsolicited burden we carry through life. I know this because I am 73 and only diagnosed with bipolar disorder a few years back.  During my vicissitudes of the mood disorder, I had occasional rare opportunities, call them rare moments of fleeting remission, to look back at the egregious mistakes in my life and my squandered opportunities. But I was bewildered, not knowing that mental illness was running through me like a turbulent river.

In the past few years, I now have the knowledge to understand my past behavior. It has awakened a clarity of understanding about what I did and why. However, I am very wary of lapsing into a melancholy or depressive state of regret. I am glad I awakened to my illness slowly because a realization of my hobbled life, if too sudden, could have led to suicide. For some people, the weight of ruminating on what might have been becomes an albatross that can drag them down beneath the raging waters of self-recrimination.

The famous American poet Theodore Roethke resonantly captured this challenge. I have my own interpretation of his words (which for him are about facing aging). I must not allow myself to trigger a precipitous downfall when I am mortified by an awareness of how I have not been in full control of my past life. In his poem "The Wakening," Roethke wrote:

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.

I learn by going where I have to go.

We think by feeling. What is there to know?

I hear my being dance from ear to ear.

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Regret is only useful to me, given my history of bipolar, if the past can inform the present, resulting in actionable change.

I have many regrets about relationships that I mangled into oblivion.  But I cannot go back years upon years to rebuild them. I was in a cocoon of depression and mania, while my friends, who I often alienated, moved on with their lives. I can ask for forgiveness, but I can't restore the lost time that would have fostered attachments to people like a tree with its root system of support.

Dwelling upon regret can, in itself, just create another regret, not regret for the past but regret in the moment.

Better to walk confidently into the future, with all its possibilities, through the door opening before you.

Mark Karlin is retired, after a long career in advocating against gun violence, as a hospital executive and founder of a progressive website. He graduated from Yale University with an honors degree in English.

The Ripple Effect of Gratitude

The Ripple Effect of Gratitude

I've wrestled with an enduring sense of powerlessness and melancholy throughout my life. Therapy sessions became a familiar backdrop from my middle school years onwards, and I even ventured into the realm of becoming a therapist myself. Personal growth wasn't just a hobby; it was my daily bread - podcasts for breakfast, self-help books for lunch, and peer-reviewed articles for dinner. Yet, amidst this relentless pursuit, a nagging question persisted: Why didn't I feel any better? Despite advocating self-care and healthy habits to others, I struggled to practice what I preached. 

Each new year brought resolutions that fizzled out within a month or two. I pledged to be kinder to myself until the inevitable stumble. I committed to daily gratitude until a lousy day clouded my perspective. I embarked on fitness routines until a missed session derailed my efforts. Invariably, I found solace in the familiar embrace of powerlessness and gloom. This was my narrative, a journey where everything seemed futile, akin to chiseling away at a glacier of troubles.

Yet, amidst this darkness, a glimmer of hope emerged - the practice of gratitude.  While intellectually aware of its scientific benefits like increased positive outlook, decreased levels of depression and anxiety, correlation with better physical health outcomes, and more, I initially dismissed the notion that jotting down three things I'm thankful for each day could alter the trajectory of my life.

 Nevertheless, desperation spurred me to try, and with the support of accountability partners, I embarked on a journey of transformation. Recognizing that my struggle was shared, I enlisted my closest friends in this odyssey of personal development. Thus, on January 22, 2023, our "personal growth group chat" was born. 

Each time I missed a day while my friends remained consistent, I felt the weight of my absence. Yet, delving into their entries reminded me of my commitment and deepened our bond. It was a rare glimpse into the minutiae of their daily life, illuminating the simple joys that often go unnoticed. As someone who cherishes social connection, I felt that this window into their lives brought a sense of closeness I didn't know was missing.

My contributions to the chat initially revolved around the expected - the conventional blessings of family, shelter, and sustenance. But gradually, my perspective shifted. I found myself celebrating the small wonders: the comforting warmth of morning coffee and a stranger's kindness in the rush hour hustle. These authentic expressions of gratitude nurtured mindfulness, anchoring me in the present moment and amplifying my appreciation for life's fleeting pleasures.

With time, my entries evolved from mere sentences to heartfelt paragraphs, each infused with the essence of why a particular moment brought me joy. Reflecting on the more profound significance of these experiences elevated my gratitude to a soulful level, enriching my journey in ways I never imagined. And now, as I reflect on over a year of shared exploration with my friends, I marvel at the profound transformations wrought by a simple practice. In this journey, I've gained more than I could have ever imagined: 

1. I experienced a heightened sense of connection and gratitude within my circle of friends. 

2. Monitoring my daily moods through a free app named How We Feel since embarking on this journey revealed a significant shift (See below image). In January 2023, the majority of my emotions skewed towards low-energy unpleasant feelings, followed by low-energy pleasant feelings, high-energy unpleasant emotions, and high-energy pleasant experiences (Image A). However, after a year and three months, the landscape had transformed. Now, low-energy pleasant emotions topped the chart at 42%, with low-energy and unpleasant emotions following at 29%. High-energy pleasant emotions constituted 19%, while high-energy unpleasant emotions trailed at 10% (Image B). This transformation departs from the presence of powerlessness and sadness that once dominated my emotional landscape.

1. This seemingly small habit cascaded into other positive changes. Collaborating with my friends, we initiated mini-challenges to complement our gratitude practice. From abstaining from late-night eating to limiting social media usage and incorporating exercise, we leveraged our group dynamics to monitor and enhance our progress.

2. Embracing the adage, "If you want to go fast, go alone; if you want to go far, go together," has become a guiding principle in my life. Through firsthand experience, I've witnessed the transformative power of social support. While this wasn't my first attempt at maintaining a gratitude list, it marked the first time I succeeded in sustaining it long-term.

3. At last, my relationship with myself has blossomed. I now have confidence in my ability to keep the promises I make to myself, and I perceive myself through a lens of positivity.

Today, I stand as a testament to the potency of gratitude and the transformative power of tiny habits. This journey, once dismissed as insignificant, has left an indelible mark on my being. Through this post, I express my deep gratitude to my dear friends Shaylee and Tina, whose unwavering support and camaraderie have propelled me towards a brighter tomorrow.

July B. in the middle surrounded by her friends Shaylee and Tina in 2018.

Written By: July Bayasgalan

A Better Place

A Better Place

I wish I could be in a better place

A place that is full of happiness, joy, and contentment

A place where I do not feel constantly judged by those around me

A place where I can be myself

A place where I can love myself

A place where all my guilt, depression, and anxiety will go away

A place where it is okay to not be okay

A place that will look past all my flaws and mistakes

A place that will love me for all my good qualities and kindnesses 

A place that is warm, kind, and open

A place that I can feel free to go to whenever I need 

I have yet to find this place even though I have been looking for it all my life 

But I know someday I will find it, and everything will be alright

For I will have finally found a better place

Rachel, in her late 20s, is a wife, daughter, and mental health advocate who lives with anxiety and bipolar disorder. Rachel creates poetry to express her ideas, thoughts and hopes for the future.

If you are interested in submitting a guest blog post for the No Shame On U Blog, please email nsou@noshameonu.org.

A Year of Balance

A Year of Balance

As a goal-oriented person, I often spend the time around New Year’s thinking about what I want to accomplish in the year ahead.

Sometimes, it’s simple - like when, two years ago, I decided to stop putting off my long-term dream of planning a trip to New Zealand with a tour company I picked out in high school and money that came from as far back as my first-ever job (selling pretzels at Auntie Anne’s in a mall). I figured out a myriad of complicated details and purchased a ticket that spring, eleven months before the trip.

But other times, like this year, it can feel complicated.

When I was a teenager, I used to describe the daily cycles of obsessions and compulsions as a pendulum where I was constantly swinging between feeling okay one moment and panicking the next.

After years of hard work, my days are less tumultuous, but that doesn’t mean that feeling doesn’t happen at all. And when they do, I struggle to feel valid in needing help for these panicky moments when I am not nearly as susceptible as when I was younger.

I’ve come to realize that life can also send these huge ups and downs in other forms - and I don’t think I’ve ever had as much of a roller coaster year before.

The beginning of 2023 included the best three weeks of my life in New Zealand - something that I can’t exaggerate the importance of in the face of Nana’s near-immediate illness, decline, and death. I gained and lost friends and romantic interests, moved to a new apartment, underwent a major career change, embarked on (and completed most of) a nearly 2,000-mile walking challenge, and started intensive work in therapy the likes of which I haven’t done in years. With all of this happening at once, I sometimes feel like setting a big goal is an insurmountable task.

I think that’s why, when Mom sent me a silly link about a superstition of choosing an underwear color to represent your goals for the new year, I immediately gravitated towards the one that symbolized control over one’s life.

My therapist and I talk a lot about how, as someone whose brain works the way it does, I feel the need to control certain elements of my life in order to feel calm. This is even more important than ever when there’s so much going on that I can’t control.

I can’t control what life throws at me, whether that means complicated things like health or simpler things like plans messed up by the weather. I can’t control other people’s goals for me or how well I perform compared to standards set by society. I can’t control how quickly I can learn a new task at work, try a new food, or reach a therapeutic milestone.

All I can do is try my best at whatever’s in front of me, something I have put a ton of extra effort into this past year. And it occurs to me that I might be happier and able to tackle some of the larger tasks if I don’t set specific goals for myself that have to be done by a deadline that I’ll feel bad if I miss. With everything that’s been going on, it can be my goal to simply stabilize and start the new year on a more even keel.

For 2024, instead of a series of complicated goals, I’m going to keep my resolutions to a single word: balance.

This doesn’t mean I won’t keep working on the things that matter to me, like finding a publisher for my book or continuing to expand my social life. Instead, it means that I’m going to amend my usually ambitious goals to be part of a balanced life instead of taking over it entirely.

For example, instead of forcing myself into a large writing challenge like National Novel Writing Month to get back into writing (something I always find hard after a major life struggle like losing Nana), I’ve started writing fiction and fantasy for five minutes a day - something that will grow organically when I’m ready.

I’m going to keep walking after my giant challenge is done, but spending two-plus hours a day exercising has taken away from other pieces of my life that I’d love to get back, like video games.

And in that vein, I’m not going to be aiming for “completionist” goals in my games, or even starting the year by playing anything overly complicated. Instead, I’ve started “Bear & Breakfast,” a calm game where I play as a bear managing a series of decrepit inns in the forest, and I don’t have to complete any checklists or race anyone to the finish line.

Looking at my life in terms of balance also means using my creativity to find ways around inevitable problems like Nana not being able to be the first person to call me on my birthday next week - to help with this problem, I’m going to play a birthday voicemail of hers from years ago at midnight so I can feel like she’s still the first call.

Even though there’s so much I can’t control, I’m optimistic that finding a balance between various areas of my life will help me feel like my life is a steady boat on a calm sea, able to weather the waves that come along thanks to increased flexibility and creativity.

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.