Greater Than Illness

12/30/2023

Keep going. Keep fighting. Keep moving forward.

Image by: Just Peachy Comics

12/28/2023

I bought a book today, and while that may not sound like a lot, for me it is a profound gesture: one of hope, prosperity, and recovery.

You see, I am a writer and—by choice or default—an avid reader. I love many types of literature and have an affinity for biographies. They have a soft spot in my heart. And yet, despite my love of the written word, I have found myself reading less and less. I struggle to get through an article. Facebook statuses are barely tolerable. And books? They are incomprehensible. I haven’t “turned a page” this year.

Of course, there is good reason. I have struggled in 2023: with depression namely—though hypomania and PTSD made an appearance too. And I did so behind closed doors. Few knew I was having a hard time. But if you came in close there were signs. My hair was (frequently) unwashed. I went long stretches without working out. Skipping meals became common. And my house sat in a state of disarray—at least for me. I struggled, hard.

But I’m trying to get back to basics. I’m eating on a regular basis, working out several times a week, and finding things that bring me joy—like writing. Like reading books.

Is it easy? No. When you’re numb, knowing what make you happy can seem like a foreign concept. It’s like a language you never learned. But I’m getting there, one minute, one day, one word at a time. I’m also tackling the “big things” in therapy and taking my meds—which, if you’re on them, I highly recommend.

Do I know what tomorrow will bring? No, I don’t. But today, I treated myself. I spoiled myself. I cared for myself. Today, I bought the book.

05/12/2023

According to a recent study, one in five teens experiences depressive symptoms. But what is depression, really—and what does an adolescent diagnosis mean for your future?

02/06/2023

In case no one told you today: You matter.

02/03/2023

How you spend your time matters.

Parade.com has an extensive editorial partnership with Cleveland Clinic, consistently named as one of the nation's best hospitals in U.S. News & World Report's

02/02/2023

When anxiety strikes, it prevents me from being the mother I want to be. I am not able to be present with my children. I am somewhere else, a captive to my thoughts.

When anxiety strikes, it prevents me from being the mother I want to be.

02/02/2023

The Lindsay Clancy tragedy brought postpartum psychosis into the spotlight. It’s time we give parents the support and care they so desperately need.

02/01/2023

Anyone else?

01/31/2023

Depression does strange things to your body and your mind. It makes you believe you are not good enough or smart enough. It makes you believe you are not strong enough, and the negativity consumes you. You feel trapped and alone.

By Kimberly Zapata I am depressed. Again. And if I’m being honest, I have been for quite some time. That said, it is easy for me to write these words. It feels comfortable, natural. Like I am…

01/31/2023

I, like millions of Americans, cannot get Lindsay Clancy out of my mind—and it’s not for the reasons you may think. There are the charges, to be sure. Lindsay faces several counts of murder. Of strangulation. Of assault. Her children are gone. There are three dead littles. Three beautiful babes whose lives were ended too soon. And there is her husband who is grieving on so many levels. In so many ways. But my thoughts are with Lindsay because I was her. Because, in many ways, I still am her. Her story could have been mine.

I was just… lucky.

Well, sort of.

You see, in 2013, I gave birth to a healthy and happy child. A beautiful baby girl. Things were great for awhile. I was doe-eyed and sleep-deprived but very much in love. I held her. Kissed her. Sang to her. Nursed her. Our connection was strong, at least for a few days. For, maybe, a month. But then, things changed. I felt distant. Cold. It was like I was coddling and caring for a stranger, one who I despised. I felt angry. All. The. Time. I resented my husband. My baby. My life. And I thought the world would be better off without me. I genuinely believed that to be true.

But, and here’s the big but—the thing I’ve never spoken about or admitted to my husband or therapist or even said out loud—for awhile I thought my daughter would be better off with me… on the other side. I had intrusive thoughts, ones which could and should have ended BOTH of our lives.

Now, I said I was lucky because I was. I recognized something was amiss and spoke out. I tried to get help, but it took 8 weeks. For 56 days, I whiteknuckled it. I prayed. I hoped. I walked a lot and cried. For 56 days, I slunk around shamefully. I hid behind a smile. A lie. And for 56 days (and then some), I lived minute to minute. We stayed alive because we were lucky, not because there was help or hope.

The mental health system is a mess. It is designed to work against us, thanks to insurance obstacles and a lack of providers. Accessibility is a problem. Many cannot get to their appointments due to a lack of transportation. Financial barriers are another concern. Last year, I needed extended care and was told it would be $700 a week—and this with insurance. With a good healthcare plan. And, when it comes to postpartum and perinatal issues, there is shame. Stigma. There are expectations. You should be happy. You are .

So while I know many are judging Lindsay, while I know many are condemning her in so many ways, I ask that you remember that she loved her babies. She cared for them, with her whole being. Her whole body. Her whole heart. Her husband spoke out saying, "I want to ask all of you that you find it deep within yourselves to forgive Lindsay, as I have. The real Lindsay was generously loving and caring towards everyone: me, our kids, family, friends, and her patients. The very fibers of her soul are loving.” But her brain was sick. Her chemistry, flawed. And, as such, her judgement was impaired. (I say this not only as a postpartum survivor but as someone who lives with bipolar, too.)

It is time we do better—and more—to help the new parents in our lives. It is time we do better—and do more—to help those living with mental illness, and it is time for us to remove both shame and stigma. Let’s change the system for the better. Let’s help our friends and families get the support they need to be their best and complete selves. Everyone deserves that—not just those who are lucky. Not just those who can hold on and hold out for 8 weeks (or more).

01/30/2023

Adolescent su***de is a public health issue. Learn the signs of su***de in teens, tweens, and young adults—and how you can help.

01/27/2023

Who's singing with me?