The Cellar  

Go Back   The Cellar > Main > Health

Health Keeping your body well enough to support your head

Reply
 
Thread Tools Display Modes
Old 03-08-2013, 06:56 PM   #1
monster
I hear them call the tide
 
Join Date: Dec 2005
Location: Perpetual Chaos
Posts: 30,852
Mental Illness

Found this on facebook (link is not facebook).

Wow. strong. Great explanation, I thought. So I'm sharing as per the request.

kindnessmatters365.tumblr.com

Quote:
I spent my 23rd birthday in the psychiatric ward at Beaumont hospital. My sister drove me there because I had been trying to fly, trying to drive my car after flying, making incomprehensible calls to family members and letting out occasional shrill screams while frantically writing in a notebook.

That wasn’t easy to say in a semi-public forum. But should it be so hard to talk about?

I don’t remember much from my almost two-week stay in the hospital. I remember words like, bi-polar, lithium, haldol and out-patient care. I remember Joel’s face as they locked me in after visiting hours ended. We had just gotten engaged six months before.

I remember the shame of having to move back in with my mom after being discharged. I remember getting the letter from the public relations firm where I worked telling me I was being let go for exceeding my sick days.

The doctors warned me that the depression after the mania would be the worst I’d ever experienced.

It was worse, and it was debilitating. It took everything to put one foot in front of the other. I remember my foggy brain training to memorize the menu from a fancy restaurant in Royal Oak where I took a waitressing job to get back on my feet. I remember wondering if I had any chance to get accepted into the Student Affairs program at MSU.

As with most painful memories, in retrospect it helps to find humor where you can. During my mania, I thought I was JESUS as in Jesus Christ son of God. So when my sister and I got to the hospital I tried to make it clear to everyone that I was going to take good care of them. And I distinctly remember another man next to me, and I was thinking aloud, “Oh, this poor guy, he’s crazy.” I also remember looking out my hospital room down on the parking lot and thinking all the people were looking up at me, so happy I had come to save them. I know I kept the nurses on their toes as I still have a magnetic sign from my door that said, “fall precautions.” The night I tried to fly I got a shot of a pretty heavy tranquilizer right in my butt.

I wish I could say that my manic episode was my only experience with bi-polar and mental illness, but mental illness is much more complicated than that, as most difficult things usually are. My life with mental illness started with depression.

I had my first depression when I was in eighth grade. We chalked up it to normal teenage angst. I had one more major episode the spring of my senior year of high school.

Those depressions were terrible. They lasted months. I remember hearing an ambulance one night, and I prayed that it was coming for me, that it would take me somewhere and make me feel better. I didn’t want to die, but I wanted to LIVE. I felt like my whole life had been taken from me, and I didn’t know what I could do to get it back.

I finally got medicated for depression in the second semester of my freshman year of college. I had no desire or ability even to get out of bed. I dropped a class, and barely made it to the others. I forced myself to talk to all of my professors though I felt ashamed and alone even with a supportive family and great friends.

Even after medication I went on to have more significant depressive episodes, but each time, thankfully, the fog lifted and I persevered until the major manic episode. The right medication and the right diagnosis changed my life.

Here’s the thing about being bi-polar: It’s complicated. It’s part of who I am, but it’s not all that I am. It’s a scary disease. Now, 10 years later I am scared to death of depression. There are songs on the radio I turn immediately because they remind me of dark days. There are certain scents I cannot stand to smell because they remind me of different episodes. It’s hopeless. It’s dark. It’s isolating. It’s overwhelming. The most mundane and simple task can feel like running a marathon. It feels like someone is walking on your chest. It feels like every positive thought is lost in an ocean of inexplicable sadness. Joy is gone. Time stands still. Everything is lifeless. Without color. Void of emotion.

Wait a minute…”Where are you going with this, isn’t this a kindness blog?” you ask. Well, yes it is.

Today I am being kind to myself and all the other people diagnosed with a mental health disorder (one in four people are reported to have a mental health diagnosis). These numbers mean to me that each person reading this and hopefully passing it along has been affected in some way by mental illnesses. Perhaps even silenced by them.

I am sick of being silent and hiding a part of myself that I should not be ashamed of, even though I have been for the last 10 years. I am ashamed to say that there are people who will read this tonight who are very close friends of mine who learn of this for the first time because I was afraid of professional ramifications or social ramifications or just plain scared to tell them.

I am now 33. I am a wife. I am a mother. I am a daughter. I am a sister. I am a friend. I am proud of who I am. I am proud that I got my masters degree and had a successful career touching students’ lives. I am not afraid of this illness or what people might think of me because I have it. I am happy and excited about my life. I take 600 milligrams of lithium every night before I go to bed. I try to go to bed every night before midnight. I try to exercise at least three times a week. As my psychiatrist and former social workers would say, I am compliant.

I have not had any manic or depressive episodes in 10 years.

I survived because Joel, my family, Joel’s family, and my friends reminded me that I was loved and reminded me to take care of myself. And, my parents had insurance so I could get the care I needed.

It isn’t lost on me that many people who are suffering tonight are not in that position. When I drive down the street on a cold day, and I see someone who looks out of it and homeless, I know there is a good chance that person could also be mentally ill. I also know there is a thin line separating me from them.

We still have so far to go when it comes to the stigma attached to mental illness. I recognize how far we’ve come, but I want the day to come when I can say, “I have bi-polar disorder” just like someone else can say, “I have diabetes.”

Glenn Close started on organization to fight this stigma because her sister has bi-polar disorder. I love what it stands for. I went on to sign the pledge, and I hope to do more.

We all have something. This is what I’ve got. Maybe it’s what you’ve got.

So, help me take the first step. Today I tell you I live with bi-polar disorder. Will you think differently of me tomorrow? Will I wear the scarlet letters “M.I.” for mental illness. I chose to believe not.

SHARE this post with anyone who knows me, with anyone you think might be interested. Put it on your page and tell people to comment or share or sign the pledge and visit the web site bringchange2mind.org and when you see me ask me anything you want. Tell me you know someone who’s bi-polar or suffering from anxiety. Or tell me you’re surprised to learn this about me. The only way you’ll offend me is if you are indifferent after reading this. And, I know you won’t be.

Here’s the best way I could ever sum up how I feel about being bi-polar from a brilliant book by Kay Jamison called “An Unquiet Mind.”



“I honestly believe that as a result of it I have felt more things, more deeply; had more experiences, more intensely; loved more, and been more loved; laughed more often for having cried more often; appreciated more the springs, for all the winters…and slowly learned the values of caring, loyalty, and seeing things through. I have seen the breadth and depth and width of my mind and heart and seen how frail they both are, and how ultimately unknowable they both are. Depressed, I have crawled on my hands and knees in order to get across a room and have done it for month after month. But, normal or manic, I have run faster, thought faster, and loved faster than most I know. And I think much of this is related to my illness—-the intensity it gives to things and the perspective it forces on me. I think it has made me test the limits of my mind (which, while wanting, is holding) and the limits of my upbringing, family, education, and friends.”
__________________
The most difficult thing is the decision to act, the rest is merely tenacity Amelia Earhart
monster is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 03-09-2013, 09:15 AM   #2
orthodoc
Not Suspicious, Merely Canadian
 
Join Date: Oct 2006
Posts: 3,774
'An Unquiet Mind' is worth reading. So is 'Darkness Visible', by William Styron.

Thanks for posting this, monster.
__________________
The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated. - Ghandi
orthodoc is offline   Reply With Quote
Reply


Currently Active Users Viewing This Thread: 1 (0 members and 1 guests)
 
Thread Tools
Display Modes

Posting Rules
You may not post new threads
You may not post replies
You may not post attachments
You may not edit your posts

BB code is On
Smilies are On
[IMG] code is On
HTML code is Off

Forum Jump

All times are GMT -5. The time now is 05:30 AM.


Powered by: vBulletin Version 3.8.1
Copyright ©2000 - 2024, Jelsoft Enterprises Ltd.