5 Healthy Habits to Help Reduce Stress 🤗
Chronic stress raises heart disease and stroke risk, promoting unhealthy habits, but the American Heart Association emphasizes that reducing stress and fostering a positive mindset can enhance overall health.
The American Heart Association provides science-backed insights to help people reduce chronic stress and understand its impact on physical health.
Stay Active
Exercise is a simple path to physical and mental well-being, reducing disease risk, enhancing mental health, and boosting energy, with the American Heart Association suggesting at least 150 minutes of moderate or 75 minutes of vigorous activity per week.
Mediate
Meditation and mindfulness in your daily routine for brief stress relief, backed by studies showing benefits like lower blood pressure, enhanced sleep, stronger immune support, and improved cognitive abilities.
Practice Positivity
A positive mindset fosters better health, longevity, improved sleep, healthier habits, and reduced stress through positive self-talk and reframing challenges.
Show Gratitude
Practicing gratitude through daily reflection on three things you're thankful for can effectively reduce depression, anxiety, and enhance sleep.
Find a Furry Friend
Pet ownership, especially dogs, offers numerous health benefits, including improved fitness, reduced stress, lower health risks, and increased happiness, as supported by American Heart Association research.
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october 15, 2023
I haven’t written in a few weeks, I think it’s because I’m afraid of what will come up if I open myself up to it. I’ve been good about consistently posting up until now. Part of my pause was purely ego, I didn’t know if something was worth writing if I wasn’t posting it. I didn’t write, I’ve been afraid to admit that I don’t think I’ve been taking as good of care of myself as I know I could be. I don’t say this in judgment, I say it in observation of myself- I know I could be doing better. I’ve been wondering what the point is.
I track my moods every day, on a scale of negative two to positive two. Negative two: “I really do not want to exist right now.” Positive two: “Nothing can fucking stand in my way.” I journal about the feelings associated with each number I give myself, lately my journal has been full of negative-one reflections. I was hoping that when I started this blog, it would reflect my progress. I was equating meditation with progression. This was intended to be a reflection of how well I was doing, instead it is a reflection of how hard this is. I wish I had positive news to share, it’s discouraging to share that this is a LOT harder than I thought it would be.
If anything, I owe myself honesty and consistency. I owe it to myself to admit that med-management isn’t perfect and being bipolar is fucking hard. I just need to say it; this is hard. I feel like there was a part of me that thought that taking meds would cure it, take away the negative-one days altogether, but after a few weeks of depression, isolation, and reflection, I don’t think that’s the point at all.
I think the point is to be aware of the days and to acknowledge that they will pass. The point is that I am eventually going to feel my feelings whether I like it or not, so I might as well write. I think the point is awareness.
I am thankful for this awareness, it will guide me to my next day. No matter where my mood falls on the scale, I can handle it, I can write about it, I can share it. That is the whole point.
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july 24, 2023
A month ago, I walked into my psychiatrist's office and left with a bottle of tiny blue pills. So much of my energy has been spent on catering to mania and depression that I forgot those aren’t the only two feelings that are a part of the human condition.
While I spent years of my life alternating between trying to bring my mood up when I was low and trying to bring myself back down when I was high, I never fully figured out how to bring myself back to center when I was anxious.
In this season of life, I am learning how to ground myself, trying to endure and ride the waves that anxiety has crashing on my shoreline.
The mania and depression have leveled out, gone back to their hiding spots until the next time they are supposed to sneak out and make themselves known. In leaving, they forgot to take anxiety with them, and now I am cycling between trying to control the future and being stuck in complete fear of it.
Manic highs and depressive lows are mountains and valleys I can navigate well. Anxiety is unfamiliar terrain, it feels like a tsunami, a giant wave I can’t climb or navigate, it just comes for me, heightening as the tide pulls in and swallowing me whole when the wave crashes. My anxiety typically manifests as a need to control the wave rather than ride it.
The waves feel like I am the new kid in school every day, overthinking things from my outfits, to my relationship, to whether or not I should have hugged a friend of a friend goodbye at a get-together we had last Sunday. Things that I normally wouldn’t have second guessed are now taking up entire bookshelves of my brain and I don’t know how to stop it.
Do I just accept this new symptom as a third party? My mountains are hills now and my valleys aren’t as low, so is this okay? Not if the anxiety is deafening. Not if I’m being crushed by the wave, only to drown in anxiety and fear of the future. What is all this for if I’m still lost in thought, trying to control tomorrow instead of living in the present?
There are days where it feels less like a tsunami and more like a riptide. I think that’s because now I know where it is coming from, but I don’t appreciate having panic attacks over whether or not I believe I can pull off overalls.
When I was in seventh grade, I went away to one of those week-long-youth-overnight-Christian-camps. I hated going, but something must have stuck since I still have my Faith and remember one sermon about tsunamis and fear of the future.
In 2004, there was a man who stood on the Sumatran Coast with his three sons. All he had with him were his children and a small boat. Suddenly, he felt the earth shake and watched all of the water in the ocean recede from the shoreline, collecting into one giant ball of potential energy at the end of the horizon. The man was paralyzed by his anxiety; he knew what was coming.
“Get in the boat.”
The man didn’t even look for the source of the sentence, at that moment, his flight response was activated. He had faith enough in the feeling to find his children, get in the boat, and paddle straight into the ocean, riding the wave and surviving the tsunami that his wife at home would fall victim to. He had faith, he got in the boat, he rode the wave.
Whether you take this as fact or as a parable, it is a beautiful story of perseverance and loss. May we all have enough faith in ourselves to ride the waves that come our way rather than try and control them. May we all acknowledge the things we lose in the tsunamis and the things we keep by maintaining our faith in ourselves, or in God, or in tiny blue pills.
A month ago, I walked into my psychiatrist's office and left with a bottle of tiny blue pills. So much of my energy has been spent on catering to mania and depression that I forgot those aren’t the only two feelings that are a part of the human condition.
While I spent years of my life alternating between trying to bring my mood up when I was low and trying to bring myself back down when I was high, I never fully figured out how to bring myself back to center when I was anxious.
In this season of life, I am learning how to ground myself, trying to endure and ride the waves that anxiety has crashing on my shoreline.
The mania and depression have leveled out, gone back to their hiding spots until the next time they are supposed to sneak out and make themselves known. In leaving, they forgot to take anxiety with them, and now I am cycling between trying to control the future and being stuck in complete fear of it.
Manic highs and depressive lows are mountains and valleys I can navigate well. Anxiety is unfamiliar terrain, it feels like a tsunami, a giant wave I can’t climb or navigate, it just comes for me, heightening as the tide pulls in and swallowing me whole when the wave crashes. My anxiety typically manifests as a need to control the wave rather than ride it.
The waves feel like I am the new kid in school every day, overthinking things from my outfits, to my relationship, to whether or not I should have hugged a friend of a friend goodbye at a get-together we had last Sunday. Things that I normally wouldn’t have second guessed are now taking up entire bookshelves of my brain and I don’t know how to stop it.
Do I just accept this new symptom as a third party? My mountains are hills now and my valleys aren’t as low, so is this okay? Not if the anxiety is deafening. Not if I’m being crushed by the wave, only to drown in anxiety and fear of the future. What is all this for if I’m still lost in thought, trying to control tomorrow instead of living in the present?
There are days where it feels less like a tsunami and more like a riptide. I think that’s because now I know where it is coming from, but I don’t appreciate having panic attacks over whether or not I believe I can pull off overalls.
When I was in seventh grade, I went away to one of those week-long-youth-overnight-Christian-camps. I hated going, but something must have stuck since I still have my Faith and remember one sermon about tsunamis and fear of the future.
In 2004, there was a man who stood on the Sumatran Coast with his three sons. All he had with him were his children and a small boat. Suddenly, he felt the earth shake and watched all of the water in the ocean recede from the shoreline, collecting into one giant ball of potential energy at the end of the horizon. The man was paralyzed by his anxiety; he knew what was coming.
“Get in the boat.”
The man didn’t even look for the source of the sentence, at that moment, his flight response was activated. He had faith enough in the feeling to find his children, get in the boat, and paddle straight into the ocean, riding the wave and surviving the tsunami that his wife at home would fall victim to. He had faith, he got in the boat, he rode the wave.
Whether you take this as fact or as a parable, it is a beautiful story of perseverance and loss. May we all have enough faith in ourselves to ride the waves that come our way rather than try and control them. May we all acknowledge the things we lose in the tsunamis and the things we keep by maintaining our faith in ourselves, or in God, or in tiny blue pills.
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Ibu
Aku memegang pundak ibuku hari itu. Rohku yang sudah memasuki fisik orang dewasa telah membuat rasa pegangan tanganku berbeda dari sebelumnya, ketika kecil.
Dulu, ketika kecil, aku ingat sekali bahwa lengan ibuku begitu besar. Bahkan dulu aku harus mengeluarkan seluruh tenagaku untuk memijit lengan ibuku yang sedang lelah karena pekerjaan sekolah yang sangat seabreg.
“Kurang keras Nangg” Protes ibuku karena pijitanku kurang terasa baginya.
Aku yang mendengar instruksi itu langsung mengerahkan segala otot-otot kecil usia 8 tahunan untuk mengerahkan tenagaku. Akhirnya, momen pijat tangan ibu lebih mirip kepada meremas lengannya ketika itu.
Hari ini, segalanya telah berubah. Lengan ibu yang dahulu besar sekali, kini terasa kecil. Berat badan ibuku turun karena dimakan usia, sedangkan fisikku terus menguat karena bertambah dewasa.
Walaupun menjadi tua adalah keniscayaan, tapi jika aku bisa meminta, aku akan memohon kepada semesta untuk tidak menuakan ibuku. Aku ingin bisa seumuran dengan dia, menjadi orang yang fisiknya semakin menguat bersama, kemudian menua bersamanya. Aku ingin seusia dengannya, agar aku bisa memahami bagaimana menjadi dia di waktu yang sama. Kami sering berbeda pendapat, dan aku menduga hal ini karena kami hidup di waktu yang berbeda. Maka, jika aku bisa seumuran dengannya, mungkin akan lebih banyak hal yang sama daripada hal yang berbeda.
Selain itu, aku juga takut kehilangan dia.
Bukan apa-apa, aku hanya tak yakin apakah aku bisa hidup tanpanya. Dunia tanpa dia sepertinya akan gelap dan berat. Doa-doanya tak akan menemaniku lagi. Support verbalnya tak akan lagi aku dengar. Kemudian, bagaimana aku bisa hidup?
Aku baru tersadar bahwa teman-temanku yg sudah kehilangan orangtua adalah manusia-manusia kuat yang perlu dikuatkan. Kok bisa ya mereka masih semangat ketika oratuanya telah tiada? Apakah ibunya telah menetap dihatinya? Atau karena memang karena mereka kuat sehingga diberi ujian yg berat?
Jika memang begitu cara semesta bekerja, aku lebih memilih menjadi orang yg lemah. Aku tak ingin kehilangan ibuku.
Aku bisa hidup tanpa saudara, tanpa teman, bahkan tanpa sahabat. Tapi aku tak yakin apakah aku bisa hidup tanpa ibuku.
Semoga kamu sehat selalu, Ibu.
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