The bulk (all two) of the things I’ve written for this blog have been primarily focused on my children. While my kids are a predominant part of my life, like all parents, they’re not the only thing about me, but please don’t tell them that.

Who Are You?

I wear many hats in terms of who I am. On a personal level, I’m a daughter to Mike and Margaret, a sister to Leah, a wife to Sam, and a mother to Abigail and Sammy. Professionally, I am a stay-at-home mom, a writer, a homeschool teacher, a homeschool co-op cooking instructor, and an usher at church.

Additionally, I’m a veteran of the United States Navy. In terms of hobbies, I enjoy amateur quilting and sewing, cross-stitching, painting, Cricut crafting, reading, writing, playing video games, watching movies, immersing myself in history, obsessing over dinosaurs, loving music, and indulging in some not-so-great car karaoke. In essence, like many others, I have a diverse array of identifiers.

“Conceal, Don’t Feel” is the worst line in Frozen

The movement to destigmatize therapy is empowering. Being open about my mental health diagnosis no longer makes me feel ashamed. Concealing mental health struggles only leads to isolation and risks. Human interaction is essential for everyone, even the most introverted, like my husband.

As a veteran, I’ve witnessed a shift in acknowledging mental health within an organization that once shamed it. In my service from 2004 to 2010, discussing mental health openly wasn’t encouraged.

In combat, compartmentalizing emotions is crucial, but bringing those coping skills home isn’t healthy. The stigma around seeking help discouraged many from doing so, contributing to tragic outcomes for military members and their families. While progress has been slow, there’s a noticeable change in understanding and supporting mental health within the military, despite lingering resistance.

“Hi, I’m (insert disorder here)!”

Lately, I’ve noticed a trend that somewhat bothers me: people identifying strongly with their mental health diagnoses. Labels can be helpful for clarity, but beyond that, they can be limiting. It’s essential to recognize ourselves in terms of relationships, interests, goals, and activities, without letting a diagnosis consume our identity.

I recently started treatment for ADHD, which has been present in my life for a while but became more pronounced in the past few years. Treatment has significantly improved my life, and people have noticed positive changes. However, I’m still fundamentally myself—just a more functional version.

I believe people often share their diagnoses because they seek to understand the challenges they face. For me, having a name for what I was experiencing was a relief, but it didn’t magically solve everything. It’s vital not to self-diagnose and let a diagnosis define your entire personality. Seeking professional help is crucial for accurate diagnosis and effective management.

In summary, embracing a mental health diagnosis is essential for understanding oneself, but it shouldn’t become the core of one’s identity. Diagnosis is just a way to name the challenges; the real work begins with finding effective ways to address them.

How I Did It

“Going to the doctor is crucial, but what about before that? How did you realize you needed help? Dear reader, I’ll share my secret to happiness without any charge. It wasn’t medication, a workbook, a diet, or a seminar. The surprising truth? I can’t take credit for it—it’s God.

God is the cornerstone of my self-improvement journey and the reason I continue to progress. It’s where my hope for the future stems from, and it’s why I have faith that even in the darkest times, things will eventually improve. If it sounds overly optimistic, I’m unapologetic because it’s the undeniable Truth.

Despite believing in God for most of my life, I didn’t truly know Him. I was too caught up in my own struggles and was convinced He was against me, making me resentful toward Him. I endured many dark moments, so dark that I don’t recognize that woman from before. However, these moments eventually led to pockets of growth over a few years.

Real growth is a marathon, not a sprint, but the common thread is that you have to take a step, to move.

In my darkest moments, I did something I hadn’t done before: I cried out to God for salvation. I literally sobbed, yelling at my ceiling. It felt strange, but nothing else was working, so why not? God answered me, not dramatically, but it was a step.

Let’s ‘begat’ a bit, Old Testament style (if you’ve read Genesis, this will resonate):

• Crying out begat realizing I needed more of Jesus in my life.
• Realizing this begat seeking out resources to understand Him better.
• Understanding Him better helped me know I wasn’t a failure.
• Knowing this begat reprioritizing my mental health.
• Reprioritizing led to a comprehensive diagnosis fitting all of me, not just a few situations I struggled with.
• Diagnosis begat treatment.
• Treatment led to better habits.
• Better habits led to contentment.

I’m not “fixed”; I’m still a bit of a mess sometimes, but I’m still ‘fearfully and wonderfully made’ (Psalm 139:14). And this, my friends, is why identifying solely with a mental illness bothers me—it’s limiting. It’s diminishing, not just to you, but to the One who created you. You, beautiful soul, are more than a diagnosis.

Regardless of your reasons—whether for comfort, community, attention, love, or more—saying ‘I’m mental illness’ instead of ‘I’m [your name]’ isn’t a sustainable approach. As the saying goes, “Man cannot live on bread alone” (Deuteronomy 8:3). Focusing solely on what might be perceived as “wrong” with you rather than celebrating what is “right” isn’t a sustainable path.

I share this not as a lecture or to shame anyone. It’s based on my own experiences, honestly expressed to explain why I now feel more content and happy than I have in a long time. It doesn’t mean my life was terrible before, but it wasn’t reaching its full potential.

Remember, you are not defined by your mental illness. You are a beloved child of the King of kings. Embrace that identity, for it’s the only one that truly matters.