While it would be great if recovery from mental illness meant that the illness would disappear and never return, for many of us living with mental illness the reality is that it’s just not going to go away. That means adapting the concept of recovery to fit with our own individual realities (or chucking aside the notion of recovery altogether, but I think adaptation is probably more helpful).
I’ve had a huge shift in my concept of recovery over the course of my illness. In the earlier years of my illness, depressive episodes were interspersed with periods of full remission. Sure, difficulties would pop up, but I had extended periods of being illness-free and life was good. Recovery became synonymous with remission.
As my illness progressed, though, it became increasingly clear that conceptualizing recovery as remission was no longer serving me. It felt like an unrealistic target, and that wasn’t a good feeling. I tried to approach the issue with greater acceptance, and recognize that it’s more useful to me to conceptualize recovery as trying to live the most meaningful life that I can in spite of my illness.
It’s been a gradual shift, but I feel more empowered by it. I’m fairly sure that my concept of recovery will continue to evolve over time, but that’s probably a good thing. After all, my illness isn’t static, so why should recovery be?
In these excerpts from my new book Making Sense of Psychiatric Diagnosis, some of the book’s contributors share what recovery means for them.
I think recovery means different things to different people. I used to hate the term. I’m not an alcoholic or drug addict. But treatment is a sort of recovery, even if there is no end in sight. In the beginning I thought recovery means you can come to the final destination of being recovered. I now understand that for me, as far as I believe, that is not the case. I will forever be in ‘recovery’, but I really prefer the term ‘treatment’. You will never ‘recover’ from a mental illness. You will always be in treatment though.Phyllis, bipolar II disorder
Full recovery for me would mean to accept myself as a physically flawed human who is worthy of love regardless of her looks or size. I have never truly believed that and most likely will not, given my age (late 50s).Paula, anorexia nervosa
I don’t think my brain will be symptom-free as the likes of calorie counting become hardwired and I still struggle with control issues and perfectionism at times, but I’ve been free of physical bulimia in the years since. Recovery for me has meant working on self-compassion, coping strategies, and healing, which is a continual work-in-progress for myself as it is for most of us as perfectly imperfect human beings.Caz, bulimia nervosa
For me, recovery from ADD means being able to finish everyday tasks without my brain fighting against me the whole time. I just want the ability to fight back, instead of giving in to distractions.
I don’t consider all my symptoms of ADD necessarily bad. Of course, it’s affected my life in big ways when it comes to education and even work… But I know I’ll always be fighting. As long as I have a fighting chance, I’m happy.Casey, ADHD
When I look back on my life, especially how far I’ve come the past 11 years, I am astonished at the difference. I was once completely debilitated by flashbacks, triggers, hypervigilance, and almost total mistrust in the world. With a lot of hard work, therapy, acceptance, and understanding my illness, I have been learned to live, not just survive. I don’t know if I will always have symptoms that I need to manage, but continued growth and change to me is a life-long pursuit and all part of the recovery process.Alexis Rose, PTSD
Making Sense of Psychiatric Diagnosis aims to cut through the misunderstanding and stigma, drawing on the DSM-5 diagnostic criteria and guest narratives to present mental illness as it really is. It’s available on Amazon.
For other books by Ashley L. Peterson, visit the Mental Health @ Home Books page.