photo credit- LULA Magazine

Monday, September 6, 2010

Once upon a time, in a land without technology...


photo by me
A couple months ago, some of my friends and I played Dungeons and Dragons for the first time. For those of you who don't know, this game is awesome, seriously. It's awesome because it is based entirely on the imaginations of the players. You can never run out of ideas, or plot lines, or moves, or missions because you make it up as you go. I then realized that the fact that this kind of game was so novel to me was kind of sad. That a game based on imagination was so revolutionary, so different and so thrilling, says a lot about my own lack of imaginary use lately.

I've also been thinking a lot about video games, and the fact that my boyfriend just got an Xbox has nothing to do with it.. I swear. Anyways, video games are also awesome. I mean, I personally don't have a lot of experience beyond N64, but just watching him play with these extremely vivid images and winding plot lines is enough for me to understand how it can consume someone's afternoon. That along with evidence that some video games produce a dopaminergic response similar to eating and having sex... explains a lot. However, my boyfriend is an actor, and he uses his imagination all the time, so the fact that he can spend hours playing those games doesn't really bother me. He already had a childhood full of creativity and imagination and I have seen the photos of him in crazy costumes to prove it.

I too had my share of imaginary play growing up (see previous posts for plenty of embarrassing examples). However, I really worry about kids today (and I KNOW I sound like I am 50 years old but bear with me) growing up who only know how to play using these devices. I feel like there should really be some mandatory imagination hour put into the schedules at school in between all of the absurd test prep that begins as early as elementary school these days. Imagination is the child's specialty. Their true mastery is the ability to be entirely unfazed by the rules of reality that limit our thought as we grow. It is not only a natural skill to develop, but imagination increases our cognitive flexibility, something that has a lot of benefits, including helping to cope with trauma later in life should it occur. Rigid inflexible play is also often a sign for a variety of mental illnesses and disorders. Of course, children vary in their play and some are more elaborate or outlandish than others, so we are talking about the extremes here. I just hope that kids now are getting the opportunities to use their brains in this way because it only becomes harder and harder to find the outlets to do it as we get older. It's no coincidence that professions in the arts are so glorified and coveted. They allow us to do what we are programmed to do from such a young age.

I don't feel like diving into my entire thesis right now (maybe another day) so if I didn't convince you I don't care... for now; but you still have to admit, if nothing else, when kids use their imaginations, it's pretty damn cute.

Exhibit A: my linking wasn't working so copy and paste below, then enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UM35grvNkss

Exhibit B: for those of you not yet convinced to go turn off the computer and go play dress-up, here are some good articles on the other downsides of too much tech time.

http://topics.nytimes.com/top/features/timestopics/series/your_brain_on_computers/index.html

Monday, August 30, 2010

Pom-poms and dryer sheets



images from Le love and Free People

My boyfriend was out of town a lot this past month and so I was forced to embrace some alone time. I'm typically a social person, so I wasn't thrilled at the prospect, but soon found myself enjoying some time to myself. Most of it consisted of doing what I had been doing already, but in my underwear. For some reason, doing mundane things in the house becomes a thrill when you're just in your skivvies. It's weird, but I felt even more like an adult. I could cook dinner, provide for myself in the apartment that I pay rent for, AND I could do it in my underwear because there were no rules but my own. Surely, the boyfriend would not object to this behavior when he is indeed home, but it's different when you're alone. It's not like you're in your underwear to be sexy or alluring, you're just comfortable and free, and I felt like a kid, and I felt like such a grown-up all at once. Being in your underwear makes everything you do more fantastically sensory. You lie on a soft blanket and it is that much better because it is soft on your back, and your shoulders and your calves, all at once. Or you go with that urge to stretch your legs while you're standing in the kitchen because you can, because you don't have the constriction of jeans. Or you hang out outside on the porch (yes I hung out on the porch in my underwear.. our backyard is fairly tree covered I promise) and the breeze is so much more potent.

At my old hospital, after we had breakfast on the unit, the kids were sent to their rooms to get dressed, brush teeth and make their beds. They were mostly encouraged to do this on their own whenever possible, and the staff would monitor the halls to make sure the toothpaste wasn't being spread on the mirror and that no one was hiding dirty bed sheets in the closet (which someone tried almost daily). Anyways, all the kids had come back to the group room and we were going to start our daily programming but one was missing, let's call him Ron. He was the youngest of the little kids group, he had just turned 5 and had these big blue eyes that would just make your heart melt, even when he was screaming at you while pouring milk all over the kid next to him... okay, he made MY heart melt anyways. So, I went to his room to go check on him. Ron had a lot of sensory sensitivities and was likely somewhere on the Autism spectrum. When he was upset, he liked to be wrapped tightly in a big blanket and he would sit there and rock himself calm and while this image of quiet rocking just screams of instability when you picture it on an adult, when you're 5, it's cool. Anyways, I went to Ron's room and he was standing on his bed in nothing but his Lightning McQueen, Cars, pull-up. He had attempted the whole, getting dressed thing, but was distracted by the dryer sheet that was left in his laundry basket. He held it to his nose and was just breathing it in. His eyes were closed and I watched him for a good 30 seconds, not wanting to interrupt what was such a blissful moment.

For all the problems that Ron had, he was able to find complete joy and serenity in a dryer sheet. It went on for about ten minutes before we finally went back and brought him to group. Before we went back to the group room, he stashed the dryer sheet under his pillow, his secret hiding space that was also inhabited by a piece of thread and a tiny red pom-pom from crafts.

Just a reminder, that no matter what larger problems you have going on -and believe me, if you're 5 and you're in an inpatient psychiatric hospital, you probably have some heavy stuff happening in your life- having some quiet time to just be alone in your underwear, enjoying the simply things around you, is the most therapeutic thing you can do.

Happy lounging.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

No monsters in the closet


photo from- http://www.flickr.com/photos/ruminating_slav


sitting in bean bag chairs
eating pretend plastic meals
wrapping up in blanket cocoons
choosing breakfast cereals
playing kickball
making sand castles
riding bikes
drawing pictures on the floor (on paper... just lying on the floor.. mostly)
making endless race car tracks
reading stories
over
and
over
bed time hugs
tuck ins
checking for monsters
leaving the doors open juuuuust a little bit


A list of normal things that kids do.

Also a list of things we used to do all the time at my old hospital on the inpatient children's unit.

I think there is a lot of misconception surrounding mental health in almost every aspect, but it certainly just obscures all knowledge of fact when it comes to hospital images. It goes without saying that there is of course, a wide range in the hospital facilities in this country and even starker range around the world. Still, there is need for some clarification here and it is understandable since 'mental hospitals/psychiatric facilities' (I work in one and even I don't know what politically correct term to use now, which says a lot) are so closed off from the public to (I believe) protect the patient's privacy. Of course every patient has a right to privacy in any health related matter, be it cancer or pink eye or bulimia. However, what we may gain in the momentary protection of the patient's rights, I think we also sacrifice in perpetuating stigma and the mysterious dark imagery surrounding these places. If people had a more accurate picture of what treatment centers looked like I think it would be a big help. Unfortunately, the powers that be would disagree and I do understand that the protection of the patient comes first.

So I cry out to the media! To the arts! Those who make a living in showing us aspects of life that we can't otherwise get exposure to, because it is from another culture, another time, another city, or just someone's life whom we will never meet. Now the film industry has created a number of very popular movies surrounding mental health, and some of which I would greatly suggest you watch (I'll keep doing research and come up with a list soon), while others might as well be filed in the horror genre. The psychiatric field is certainly not some pristine branch of medicine where everyone just lies on plush couches and plays racquet ball on the grassy hillside of the hospitals for months at a time and magically wind up cured of depression... though... it seemed to be at one time. On the other hand, there was a time when hammering an icepick through someone's eye socket and scrambling the pre-frontal region of the brain was widely practiced and it might shock you to know that was continuing in the U.S. until about 50 years ago. Just like any other field, it's been through a lot of change, especially in the last century. I won't go into a full lecture, the point being, I think there have been some mixed messages out there about mental health treatment (for good reason given the checkered past) and I'd like someone to clear it up.

Then again, if there was a movie about mental health as it truly is today, it probably wouldn't attract too much of an audience (maybe that's why it hasn't been done). Where it does seem to be mainstreamed is where it's leaking out in the Hollywood culture, in the destructive relationships and drug use and self-harm that has been splashed all over the tabloids. So I would ask you, Hollywood, to try and create a really realistic movie about mental health treatment as it is today, but it seems you're sick yourself! So now I return to my first post, what is this undeniable connection between mental illness and creativity? Maybe I'm totally wrong, it could simply be that because these artists have garnered so much fame and attention, from Van Gogh to Lindsay Lohan, (and I'm sorry for referencing those two in the same sentence) that it merely seems that there is a connection because we KNOW about it in those personal cases that are exposed. What we DON'T know is that our neighbors, and the people in front of us in the grocery store or next to us in the movies are being treated, or have been. We don't know because know one talks about it in the industry itself because of confidentiality, and no one talks about it in their personal lives because of stigma. So don't you see the cycle? We can't talk about it, so no one knows what these illnesses are really like, and we can't show the treatment centers, so no one knows what they really look like, and we can't share the treatment plans etc. etc. etc. so NO ONE KNOWS ANYTHING. Since we are curious by nature, we make up ideas of what it must be like, and we buy into the dark imagery because it scares us and makes us excited, so people with these issues sure as hell won't talk about it because they know that we've already made up what it looks like, and that it's not pretty, and they don't want to be looked at like that.

It has seemed to me that children with mental illness face the toughest battle often times, for a multitude of reasons I will surely touch on later. Sometimes it's not pretty at all. Sometimes it is scary and sad but that is why they are getting help and that is beautiful. So I want you to know, that sometimes, and not always, but sometimes, it can look like:

sitting in bean bag chairs
eating pretend plastic meals
wrapping up in blanket cocoons
choosing breakfast cereals
playing kickball
making sand castles
riding bikes
drawing pictures on the floor (on paper... just lying on the floor.. mostly)
making endless race car tracks
reading stories
over
and
over
bed time hugs
tuck ins

checking for monsters

leaving the doors open juuuuust a little bit



I wish I could leave the door open wider so you could see more.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

In the morning

photo by unknown + ffffound on Le Love

I came into work early today because I am weird and can't sleep so I come into work at 7:30 when I don't need to be here until 9:00.

Anyways, the campus of the hospital is gorgeous early in the morning and it's before a lot of the main campus staff show up but the patients are usually up early for one reason or another. I was coming in, wearing my work clothes which is just like a game of dress-up trying to seem professional but never feeling really comfortable. Walking up to my building a man comes down the hill of his unit and I know he's a patient because he's just wearing sweat pants and a tie-dye t-shirt and his hair is all disheveled and his face is puffy with sleep and he waves and says "hi" groggily and I wave and say "hi" back.

For a split second I'm jealous that he gets to come here and be himself and wear pajamas and let his hair stay messy and stretch on the lawn of the hospital with no shame or worry. I need to come in and pretend to be a grown-up and pretend to do important things all day long and I have to follow a dress code even though no one sees us but the other RA's in the office because if our bosses let us wear casual clothes the jig is up. They would be admitting that yes, it's true that it's all a facade and that it doesn't matter what we look like because we don't have any in-person important responsibilities. So we wear nice business-casual clothes to sit in our annexed office and pretend to do important things.

I feel like a massive fake and I envy his realness and I think how we are all the same in the morning. We all have puffy disoriented faces and messy matted hair and are cozy and relaxed in our comfy worn out loose fitting clothing and we all want to stay that way all day. But some of us get dressed and put on the act while others don't and we look at them and think "they're crazy, look at their disheveled hair," and this is said with a tinge of resentment because though we'd never admit it, they are doing what we wish we had the balls to do sometimes.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Crazy things I do that are normal.. I think?:

watch the same episodes of things over and over .. and over (Arrested Development and Sex and the City have been watched maybe 4 times each)

forget to eat dinner

eat dinner at 11:00 at night

eat icecream and call it dinner if it is between the hours of 5-7

eat organic food as much as possible but still smoke cigarettes on occasion

forget where the car is parked no matter how hard I try to remember by making up elaborate stories about the isle letter the car is parked in, like if it is isle C saying "the car is in Camelot," but then I forget what the reminder means and spend more time trying to decode it all over again wondering what the hell Camelot was code for

become irrationally angry over stupid things like:
something not fitting right
losing an earing
burning eggs even when I have a whole dozen left
not being able to find a pen ANYWHERE when I REALLY need one
not having hot water for an unknown reason even if it's only for a 5 minute shower
my camera battery dies when I want to take a picture


ask friends for second opinions over things I already know the answer to, but for some reason need an external voice to convince me I am right

do yoga stretches in random places: waiting in line for a movie, at my desk at work (I have a yoga ball for a chair so it kiiiiind of makes sense), in the kitchen while trying to cook at the same time.. always a dangerous idea

paint my nails but then nick one and take it all off to do it over

forget to drink water and then wondering why I always get headaches... realize it is because I don't drink water... drink 8 glasses of water the next day, pee a million times and then decide I'd rather get a headache... until I do... (repeat cycle)

refuse to touch the hand rails on the T with my palm but still eat things I drop on the floor

stare into my closet for up to 10 minutes trying to figure out what to wear, proclaim I have no clothes, walk around the house naked for another 10 minutes to procrastinate and then throw on the same t-shirt and jeans I always wear and go shopping.... even though, I have WAY too many clothes

assume my boyfriend/mother/friends can read my mind and while sometimes they can, this is not a logical expectation

ALWAYS fall asleep when watching a movie at home and then the next morning wonder why I can't remember the ending and get paranoid I am developing Alzheimer's

become paranoid I am getting Alzheimer's, decide I should do Sudoku to prevent this but remember I hate math too much and accept that this has therefore doomed me to an early mental deterioration

check my phone alarm clock twice before going to bed

then check it at least 2 more times

leave the windows open but always worry about locking the door (this made even less sense when I lived on ground level)

am incapable of doing anything before brushing my teeth but easily go two days without showering

impulsively make large scale life decisions like what college to go to but debate over how to cut my hair for weeks

continue to try to re-pierce my third earing hole that closed up, even though each time it ends in a bloody failure

"sing along" to songs on the radio even when I don't know the words but just make them up and pretend like I do

write sticky notes to remind me of EVERYTHING

photograph my food

clean the bathtub before I take a bath, but then become paranoid that bathing in the chemicals I cleaned the bath with are more harmful, and then debate this every time I go to take a bath to relax... which obviously just stresses me out and even though the clean-up involved in this may be terrible... this looks so pretty I may need to get some confetti and give this a shot (image from Lula mag website)-




haven't eaten red meat since I was 15 but drool over (and purchase) leather boots without a hint of guilt

refuse to chemically dye my hair because it is too permanent but got a tattoo


I'd love to hear what normal crazy things you do! Please share!!

Dangers of whistling while you work

Okay, sorry that last post became a big rant... sometimes I can't help myself.

Anyways, I'll keep this short. Today coming into work I could tell someone was behind me, probably like 20 feet away and I hadn't seen them but you know how you can feel that? When I was little, when we would drive on the highway I would always stare at other people in the cars that were slightly ahead of us so they couldn't actually see me directly. I would just stare (such a little creeper) until they would turn around. It always worked, they could always feel it and would turn around and see this weird little blonde kid staring at them. It just amazed me that they could feel it and I felt like I had special powers. But then I never knew what to do once they looked because I was actually too shy to wave or interact so I would just look away. Anyways, if this every happened to you and there was a little blonde girl in the back of a tan station wagon .. sorry for being so awkward....

Okay, anyways, so I am walking into work (I work in a major psychiatric hospital in Boston) and can feel this person behind me but don't want to be weird and turn around because just like when I was 5, I'd have nothing to do but awkwardly smile or just look away. So then the person starts whistling, not in a cute Jimminy Cricket way (does he whistle?.. he should if he doesn't) but in a creepy way. So now I am officially convinced there is some total psychopath (anti-social personality disorder for anyone who feels like being technical) behind me because I have an over-active imagination and make up these ridiculous things in my head... which is normal right.. but still can't bring myself to turn around. FINALLY he turns to go into another building and I see it is a very prominent physician and I feel like a total idiot for letting my mind get the best of me. At the same time I expect more from someone who possibly works with people who are really paranoid, I EXPECT that he would KNOW that whistling eerily while at a 20 foot distance behind a young girl walking for about 4 minutes next to the old abandoned buildings on our campus would be totally creepy.

Now, I must say, that my opinion, psychiatric hospitals are generally places where I feel extremely comfortable! I'm way more anxious walking home at night on the gorgeous and perfectly safe streets of Cambridge near where I live, than I ever was on the inpatient units at my old hospital. It's one of the few places in the world where people are encouraged to let everything out, to work through things openly, to wear their difficulties and vulnerabilities on their sleeves so they can be identified and then worked on. It's really the safest place in the world because everything is out in the open. Sometimes it can be scary when someone goes off or harms him/herself, or threatens to do one of those things, but at least they are announcing it, it's out there and then you can work with it! The rest of the world scares me a lot more. In the rest of the world dark thoughts are shunned and kept secret and so problems aren't worked out and things fester and dwell and that's just dangerous and unhealthy. Fear is so generally related to the unknown, the potential problem, the unseen danger, the monster hiding out of sight. But if everything is out in the light then it's not scary anymore. Even if the thought expressed is something scary or dark or upsetting, at least it's out, it's identified and purged and can be tackled and defeated.

But that's not how it is right now, and I hear someone whistle eerily behind me and I worry and I am creeped out because I assume he is an axe-murderer who is probably hiding things... like dead bodies... and I am a creep because that is what I think and I harbor it in my brain and that's no good and if we were on the unit I would turn around and say "Hey! Your whistling is really creeping me out and triggering some dark thoughts so please stop!" because I would have been taught to start working on expressing myself and having open communication about my fears and paranoia's. But we are in the 'real world' and so that would be weird. So I do the normal thing and say nothing, because he would think I was crazy and for some reason that is what I should worry about.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Epidemic


photo-Le Love

Validity is a weird thing. What determines what is valid?

If we perceive something to be valid is it? Is it a judgement call? If someone perceives something as invalid at the same time, how do we know who is right? Do we empirically measure validity? Science can be a way of measuring validity, how valid a certain claim is, that claim being a hypothesis, a belief based on some evidence or probable theory. But then we put that belief to the test, quantifying it until we have some statistical evidence to say that is valid or that is invalid. If a belief cannot be tested is it still valid? If someone believes their opinion is valid, is that enough? Is a belief in validity enough to make something valid or does it need a majority vote, or must a quantitative backing be provided? It seems to depend what the subject of debate is at the time.

I’m of the opinion that… I don’t know.

Sometimes I am a die hard believer of science and of empirical evidence and proof and facts. But then, I work with people, and I work with emotions and opinions and first hard accounts of hazy memories. For someone with scientific training you’d think I’d have no patience for this, because I can’t measure someone’s sadness and say definitively yes, yes you have a problem or no, no you’re dealing with a rational amount of grief that I can indisputably say you can overcome. Psych tries really hard to be a science. It is a science. I work in research, we use Microsoft Excel and SPSS… that’s science, right?( I can hear my brother, the bio-chem major, laughing in my head). Since these things are so hard to measure, but we felt the need to standardize the issues, we tried to come up with a way to measure these immeasurable feelings, thoughts, beliefs and experiences in what is called the DSM- Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. It’s a very concrete, very serious encyclopedia of diagnosis. It is usually found in hard cover with gold lettering, and if the DSM was a person it would be an old man with a white curly mustache and a monocle, in a blue uniform with gold trim, who stands behind a curtain like Oz and projects his image onto a large screen that people would step in front of to receive the bellowing declaration of “Alcoholic!” or “Anorexic!” etc. etc. At least that’s what they were going for when they made this up I think. But there’s the thing, THEY MADE THIS UP.

Okay, before you start thinking the entire world of mental health is some sham, let me elaborate.

They took their scientific knowledge gleaned from exposure over decades and decades of practice and millions of studies and to the best of their abilities compiled the criteria for diagnosis of varying disorders. Like any medical handbook, this is based in research and exposure and of course as time goes on we learn more, we change our perspectives, we are proven wrong where we were once so sure. SO, now we are on DSM IV soon to release DSM V. Unlike the hard sciences, mental health is clearly a more complex thing to try to pin down. A broken arm is a broken arm is a broken arm, the doctor can see it and feel it and the person with the arm can see it and feel it and everyone knows when it is broken and when it is fixed. I wish mental health were that simple, I wish the diagnosis criteria that we use was always fool-proof and obvious to both the clinician and the patient. I think it’s a lot easier to deal with a challenging situation if you can understand it, because otherwise it’s just scary.

Unfortunately the media doesn’t do a whole lot to de-scarify mental illness. There is this weird mess of fear, fascination and even glorification of mental illness, but very little explanation. There is even resentment, and sometimes jealousy. A girl who is anorexic becomes resented by peers because she has things like “discipline” that reward her with a “good body” and people don’t see the illness, the compulsion, the sadness, they only see the desirable figure left behind… until that desirable figure is in a wheel chair with a feeding tube through the throat.

One of my favorite movies, that despite casting the most beautiful woman in the world as a sociopath...seemed to get a fairly well-rounded picture of the varying degrees of mental illness and the pitfalls of diagnosis, without too much glorification is Girl Interrupted, with Wynona Ryder and Angelina Jolie. It takes place in a psychiatric hospital in the 1960’s, and in the movie they mockingly call a diagnosis “diagnonsense.” I have issues with diagnosis in general, the whole concept. Sometimes it can be really helpful for people to have a name and a description of what they are going through, to know that they are not alone and that they are not so beyond recognition but that they are simply in this category of other people also going through similar experiences. Then again, sometimes labels can be detrimental, “am I always an alcoholic even after I am sober?” Just like any labels, they classify and they can bring a feeling of togetherness or a feeling of isolation and everyone reacts differently. It’s even harder when the criteria for these labels is always changing, or if you don’t quuuuiiiite have the exact amount of criteria listed to make the cut then where are you? If you have 3 of the needed 4 out of 5 criteria for a given diagnosis then are you totally fine? The answer of course, is no, but people can use the strict criteria as a way of denying a need for help.

Say it another way, invalid- a sick person, someone who has a disability.

But what if your problems are not valid enough for you to be called sick… see what I’m getting at… that’s right… if your issues are not valid enough you can’t be an invalid, you’re not sick, but you’re not healthy, so what the hell are you then? Well, your arm isn’t THAT broken… not something we really hear.

To invalidate, to make invalid, to make sick, to make wrong.

One of the most common issues surrounding what is called Borderline Personality Disorder (also the diagnosis of Wynona’s character in Girl Interrupted, which I should add, is a true story). This diagnosis has become in “vogue” recently meaning that it has become very common in a very short amount of time. It generally involves teenage girls who have self-harming behaviors and significant difficulty forming healthy interactions and relationships (to give a very general summary). This can manifest very severely, where the individual is putting him/herself in extremely dangerous situations or actively self-harming or both. One of the major sensitivities of this population surrounds feeling invalidated. We have all felt this way, when you feel sad or angry over something and you are told that it’s all in your head, or that you just don’t understand what happened. Sure, sometimes these statements might be true, but are they ever therapeutic when someone is really upset… not really.

To invalidate, to make sick, to make wrong. My most difficult patients were BPD and I admit I really struggled to develop the skills to help them in the ways that they needed me to. However, just like any mental illness it is just “you or me magnified,” to quote the movie. What I had to offer, was the empathy that came from knowing how I felt when I was invalidated. You feel sick, you feel crazy, you feel wrong and it is just the worst.

People are complex and while some aspects of our experiences can be quantified and measured, mental health is not the easiest aspect to chart. My point is, a diagnosis doesn’t make you sick, it doesn't make your illness more valid or your lack of a diagnosis doesn't demean your struggle, it is a label, the issue is there before that and the issue might very well be there at least to some extent after the official diagnosis is removed. The person labeling might be misinformed or the person expressing the issue may be struggling to articulate the problem because it is so complex and so mislabeling occurs. We are almost on DSM V, and the criteria continues to change and the labels themselves change and we are doing the best we can with a very amorphous task.

However, in the mean time, there is no reason to get attached. We just need to do our best to try to make each other feel heard, feel healthy feel valid, because we can’t hold up a ruler when someone says “I’m sad” and say “umm nope, you are 2 inches away from sad actually; you don’t get to say that!” I don’t know of BPD behaviors existed to this extent before the diagnosis came about in such large numbers, we never know whether it’s just that now that we have the label that it seems to spike because we have a way to identify it, or if the glorification in the media plants some seeds for behaviors or if the awareness leads to over diagnosis, we don’t know. What I do know is that teenage girls are one of the most consistently invalidated groups in our society. If you are told you are wrong, and told you are sick, and told it is all in your head enough times you’d start to believe it. We need to stop invalidating, we need to stop making each other sick.