I am Mentally Ill and I am angry

In the last month I feel as if I have broken a full house of mirrors, this amount of bad luck could only come from an act like that, or a full moon.  It began with the realization that the puppy that was such a part of life for the last four months would need to be rehomed.  It broke my heart, but knew it was best for her and me.  I then received news my mom’s cancer was no longer in remission and had begun to spread throughout her body.   The next day I had a doctor appointment, leading to have 2 separate ultrasounds done on my abdomen and pelvis.  After that I received news my daughter would be going for surgery to have cysts removed from her ovaries.   Just as I was beginning to breathe and contemplate the logistics of a trip back to the US, two more bombs were dropped on me as I received news my grandmother had passed away and a dear friend was in the final stages of cancer and would be going to hospice.

I found myself going through the motions of the day, I was going to work but wasn't really there.  I was finally talked into taking a couple days off to relax and focus on what was happening at the moment, I was clearly overwhelmed.  

I went for a walk on my first day off, and though it was cloudy, windy and chilly I climbed up and sat on one of the highest rocks overlooking the water.  It was there everything in my mind came pouring out, I didn't realize I had so much pent up anger and confusion going on inside of me.  It's no wonder I was stress and depression had taken over.  

After reading over what I had written I decided to share my writings, to give an inside look of what my Schizophrenic  ravaged brain tells itself on a nearly daily basis and for others to know they are not alone, whether they live with this illness or love someone who does.

I am angry:

Ø  I am angry at myself for being sick, or more closely mad at my brain for not being right and causing so much pain and disruption in life.  I want nothing more to have a good day, no anxiety, no sadness (often for no reason), and happiness without worrying if it will turn to mania.  I want to see the world without shadows and the sounds of psychosis.

Ø  I am angry at myself for loving a puppy, yet relieved to see her re-homed so I can relax again.  I am angry for the guilt I feel, so all I can do is cry.

Ø  I am angry that I cry nearly every day, sometimes because I have to force myself to go to work, to struggle through another 3 or 4 hours.  Something others would never think twice about is a struggle for me.  After 5 days I feel like I’ve been through a war and I’m overwhelmed and just want to hide and recover from what I saw as major battle.  Yet, I do it and I feel guilty because there are people who would give anything to have a job.   I continue on and if I am honest with myself, it is destroying me slowly.  

Ø  I am angry because I hear the talk at work about the things my co-workers put on Facebook, but I have never been asked to “be friends.” Then I realized, if they did friend me then they would know who I am.  That is something I do not want them to know.

Ø  I am angry that I need to take my medication, and do it merely out of habit, often wondering if it works anymore.  I’ve been taking it for so long, I’m not sure if I would know the difference really.  Even though I take it, I still get severely depressed, manic, have psychosis – so why take the meds – they obviously aren’t working.  Or maybe they are and even though it’s not stopping the symptoms, it could be worse.   Can’t imagine it really, it’s already hell.

Ø  I am angry and hate that I can’t share what on my mind all the time, I fear it – merely speaking the words of it all.  There are days when I don’t want to be positive, I want to sit in a corner and cry until it passes.  I want tell all the bad things in my head – that are nowhere near positive and as negative as you can get sometimes.  But I don’t, I tell myself I can merely think different and it will go away. 

Ø  I am angry that I lose my way so easily and my dreams are slipping away.   I’ve always had the idea of what life would be, I would write, share with my talents with the world.  Promote mental health, write stories and books.  Take pictures and use them to share the beauty of nature.  I would travel and experience the world as it’s meant to be, open and free.  While these ideas are still part of my life, I find it hard to achieve them when much of my time is spent merely surviving.

Ø  I am angry that the world is going on around me and I’m not really part of it, I go through the motions of living – though I don’t realize it at the time.   I wonder how much I am losing.

Ø  I am angry because I look at the sea and sometimes see only water; there are days when even the beauty is lost to me.   People come here for the breath taking views and beaches, but I see it and walk away. 

Ø  But most of all,  I am proud of myself, in at least in this instance, I didn't hide my anger and fear.  I let it out so that maybe someone else will do the same.   It’s not an easy ride for any of us, but together and by sharing our stories we can make it through. 

Hiding mental illness behind the mask

At some point in everyone’s life, there is the dream of being an actor. We watch movies and picture ourselves starring alongside our favorite performers, walking the red carpet and receiving an award.  It’s a glamorous life, one envied by many.   I never thought that I would become an actress, but along with my diagnosis of mental illness came a new identity, a persona was created and the acting skills I didn’t know I had emerged in order to ward off any indications that something was the slightest bit off.

The charade goes like this.   You are invited to a party and have agreed to go.  The day of the event arrives and suddenly anxiety starts building, this alone will begin an internal breakdown of who you really are.  Dialogues begin of what people will say when they see you.  Will they remember the time you made a minor mistake at work three years ago?   As the scenarios begin to take form, self-esteem takes a hit as you look for something to wear , other than the “comfy clothes,” you wear at home.   By the time you get to the front door you have yourself convinced that everyone will know you are sick, they will judge you and see what a mental illness is really like.   And just like that, you smile in the mirror, as a small voice in your mind yells, “ACTION.”  It is time for your performance.

This can be a similar dialogue on any day; the problem is it occurs too often.  Over time it becomes normal and in the desire to hide the illness, we hide ourselves instead, often without realizing it.  The person we create becomes who we are and our true self becomes a person in the mirror that we never really see, because it is a reminder that we are not who we want to be.   So, in order to protect our already fragile minds, we go within, create a life we think is perfect and “press play.” 

I would give anything to be myself most days, but I am not sure I know how anymore; not completely anyway.   I long to be the person I was before I became “sick,” the athlete, the super-mom,  the friend everyone turned to.   Now, instead, there  is always that part of me that is on guard, afraid that if I reveal too much of who I am then my ‘secret’ will be out and that is the fear, the truth and what people will say.   So, the act continues, no awards are given, no speeches are made and there is no red carpet to walk down.   This is a private performance created in the mind amid the maze of medications, doctors, diagnosis, illness and stigma. 

Making the decision about psychiatric medications and treatments

There are times I wish there was one drug to work for everyone.  I went through years trying to find a combination that worked for me, to be stable (if that is possible), keep the psychosis and mania to a minimum and depression at bay.  Part of the issue I faced in the early years of my diagnosis was being in the military, I moved around a lot.  So, just when I found find a good doctor and felt comfortable with them, it would once again be time to move.  I got to the point where I didn't care much anymore, especially when it came to one of the last doctors I had.  He rarely listened to what I had to say, I was on two medications and I was having awful side effects, I begged him to change them.  He would sit behind his desk and fill out his insurance forms for the visit.  After a few visits and no help I did the only thing that sounded logical to me, I weaned myself off all medications.  I'd had enough.  

Fast forward to a year and I crashed, hard!  It was then I realized that I was not going to be able to do this alone, I had to be on medication in order at least keep some level to stability.  The journey would become harder than I thought, but after three psychiatrists and psychologists, I found not only a medical team I could trust, but also a medication combination that was helpful.  It was not an easy road however; it took several attempts to find out that my system rejected just about every new drug that had come on the market.  In addition, the Anti-Depressants I was taking were actually causing some of my mania.  With that off the list it came down to relying solely on mood-stabilizers, anti-psychotics and anxiety medication, but as we slowly ticked off the list of medications I could not take I became more discouraged.  The main hurdle we faced, in my eyes, was the extent of my diagnosis, Schizo-affective was simply the tip of the iceberg, it also included General Anxiety disorder, PTSD, and Dissociative Disorder.   Thankfully I had a doctor that would not give up.    

In the end we came up with a combination of Lamictal, Neurontin and Klonopin.  The first two keep me stable, for the most part (not drug is going to make this go away completely) and the later helps me not only sleep (my brain refuses to shut down, especially at night), but I can take it during the day if I am having an anxiety attack.  It is important to add that medication alone was not the answer, at least for me, and while we discussed medications he decided to approach the subject of ECT, (Electro-Convulsion therapy).  The idea more than scared me, but I was desperate and I trusted my doctor.  I checked into the hospital, was admitted to the psych ward and for the next 10 days had five treatments, and then I had three treatments as an outpatient.  The experience as not what I expected, my only side effect was bad dry mouth afterwards, and a headache.  

Now being the challenging patient that I am, and while the ECT worked to ease my depression, it brought on mania.  We didn't see it at first, it was subtle, but there was something going on.  12 months later I was back and had a second round after I hit bottom again after losing my cousin to suicide, his death destroyed me and sent me into a severe mixed episode.   Since the last sequence of treatments had help with the depression, this time my doctor knew we had to take a different approach.  It is most common to administer the treatment to one side of the brain; however, for me he decided he had to administer to both sides in order to balance out the depression and mania.  It was like my mind was fighting itself for control and he was making every effort to call a truce.  There was some success with the treatments and balance was restored, but there was a part of me that had hoped that it would make it all go away, I was growing more and more tired of it all. 

I began tracking my symptoms a few years ago; I watch how my mania, depression, anxiety, psychosis and sleep fluctuate from day to day. With the graph I can see what may have been going on that day to cause more a depressive state and what may have caused anxiety.  It’s not fool proof, but it can give a general overview of what may trigger some of the mood swings and then I can make any changes I may need to. 

In the end, yes the ECT did help and the medications continue to keep things in check - for the most part.  Over time I realized that we must live with these illnesses as they are, work with a good medical team, and have a strong support system.  Without all these pieces in place we run the risk of continuing to hide behind our mask and tell the world we are “OK,” when what we really need is help.  

My Search for a Mental Health Service Dog

 I learned about service dogs for mental health a couple years when I was hospitalized, and right away I knew it was a great idea and wanted to be part of it.  I contacted a trainer in the area and requested information, I knew soon I would have a dog of my own and he or she would be the answer I was looking for.   After filling out the lengthy forms and a few emails later I learned that there was a three year wait for a dog as they were in high demand, I was immediately crushed and felt once again I was alone in this daily battle for stability.   

When I began doing research on what a service dog for mental health actually does and what they are capable of helping with, what I found was quite remarkable.  The training they receive is extensive and they are taught to focus on the most common symptoms for each illness; because of this each service dog’s job is unique to the person.  The most common mental illnesses the dogs are trained for are Schizophrenia, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety and Bipolar Disorder.    

For these illnesses specifically, a trained service dog is able to minimize anxiety by licking the handler’s face or hands, pawing at them and physically engaging them.   They can indicate whether something is there or not for those with visual or auditory hallucinations.   For PTSD and those who have night terrors, the dog is able to awaken the person, turn on lights, and help them calm down.   If depression becomes severe, the dog is able to get the person up to go for a walk, play and simply have them moving.    

So with such a long wait list the idea of getting a puppy came to mind, after all a puppy would be fun and certainly add some excitement to life.  He or she would be able to provide me with the support I needed and wanted.  What I found, however, was not what I was expecting.  In November we got a Yellow Labrador puppy, she was 7 weeks when we brought her home and just the cutest thing I’d ever seen.  While this ball of fur was a welcome addition, over the next couple months I began to see a change in myself and it wasn’t for the better.   This puppy, who was supposed to bring such joy and comfort, was causing my illness to compound itself in not so welcome ways.  I became more anxious, my sleep patterns were way off, stress became a daily issue and depression set in.  I would often dissociate and my auditory and visual hallucinations increased, this was not what was supposed to happen.    

It took awhile to realize that while it was a good idea to have a dog and she is able to help me, having a puppy and raising her to be a helpful dog for me, was not the right path.   On the positive side she does help me concentrate on being active and social by taking her for walks, playing and talking with people we meet.  However, I didn’t expect life to change in the way it did.  Having a puppy is like having a toddler; they need constant supervision and attention.  She took over our lives; the spontaneity that was once enjoyed was no longer available as she could not be left alone for a long period of time.  I became angry, I wanted “my life back”, I missed the adventures of life and the freedom, and there are days when it is a greater weight on me than I would like, knowing life will never be the same. 

It is often in these moments, when I sit down and sometimes cry because I am trying to do something and she wants to “help” me that I get frustrated, and then I look at her and all I see are these bright green eyes looking at me and that puppy face and I know she is maybe in her way already trying to help, she knows what I need and I am the one not listening to her. 

I still struggle quite a bit, but we are getting to where we want to be.   Not only is she learning about us, but we are learning about her and I have to adjust to what she needs, it’s not all about me.  My intellectual side knows that, but the other side, the one that does not see things the right way, fights back and I am caught in the middle. 

The lesson here is, yes a service dog is a wonderful addition and is very helpful, however when making the decision to have one, it may be wise to be patient and wait for a trained dog.  The idea of a puppy and the fun it can bring is nice, but weigh the pros and cons before you do and make sure you are prepared for not only the life changes it will bring, but the challenges you may face mentally as well.

Speaking Up About Mental Illness and The Advantages of Social Media

One of the most difficult things for those who live with a mental illness is sharing their diagnosis with others. There is an undeniable fear that comes with being open about how they feel and how they may be perceived if anyone found out they were “crazy.”

The uncertainty of how you will be received is real and it is not uncommon to go for years without telling anyone that you are struggling. With the popularity of social media, however, the ability to talk anonymously has made it easier to share and open up lines of communication, where in the past there seemed to be very few.

For years I struggled with whom to tell, who not to tell, what they would think if I did tell them; the conversations and scenarios played constantly through my mind.  It wasn’t until I started becoming more active in online forums, groups and talking with people on line that I realized there is a way to talk about mental health and not be judged.   Recently, I replied to a comment in a group on Facebook, the person had asked for advice on how to stay focused when you have Bipolar.  Within 20 minutes there were four other people, besides myself, who also had Bipolar offering suggestions and sharing our experiences.  With a simple question, those who would have otherwise stayed silent, spoke up and made themselves known, adding they were available to talk anytime.  Through this I now have a few more friends to talk to and share experiences, both good and bad. 

There are countless articles on the web that offer positives for those with mental illness to be on-line. 

According to www.mentalhelp.net, the connections we make online can reduce depression and anxiety, social media allows interaction with others without the stress of face-to-face interactions,   these interactions alone can often bring on anxiety.  In addition, Facebook has countless support groups for those struggling with illnesses and feel alone.   Personally, I have used them and they are especially helpful when you live in an area where there are no meetings available, or prefer to remain anonymous while remaining socially connected, without the stigma that is often attached to mental illness. 

www.paintedbrain.com, agree, saying that social media can be quite helpful when it comes to staying motivated to achieve healthy goals and receiving positive reinforcements from online support groups.  By having others help you stay accountable it can increase the chances of staying on track and reaching out when you need it most.  These individuals and groups can help take the loneliness out of mental illness.  

The examples could continue, but I think you have the idea of how of social media can, in many ways help in our struggle when we feel most alone.  Being able to reach out and not be faced with the stigma, in itself is one of the best reasons to speak up.    

5 Reasons We May Fail When Trying to Stabilize Mental Illness

It’s been over 21 years since I’ve been diagnosed with Schizo-Affective disorder, (a combination of Bipolar Disorder and Schizophrenia) and in that time I have learned what is takes to not only survive, but live with my diagnosis.

When I was first diagnosed I was sure I could do it on my own, most of us do.  We believe we know better than the doctors, after all we know ourselves and what we are capable of.  We don’t set out to fail, as with any illness we want to feel well and capable of living our lives fully.   Mental Illness is different, with such a stigma attached; feeling the need to hide it offers one of many reasons  to stop treatment or even start. 

#5 – Hospitals:  If you’ve spent time on a psych ward you would understand it is not a place to learn about your diagnosis in its full extent.   It is a group of individuals trying to understand how they got to be where they are and what they have to do to leave and get better.  The nurses, techs and ultimately the doctors can talk and prescribe medication, all the while hoping that when their patient is discharged they will continue treatment, though there is no guarantee.   So, yes hospitals have their place, they can start the process, but it’s a long term solution that is needed. 

#4 – Medications:   With so many medications available, it is hard to find the combination that will work.  Often times it can take months and multiple tries to find what is right for you.  Sadly, there is no one drug that will work for all mental illnesses, is it trial and error.   In some cases, side effects can lead to further illness and/or hospitalization.   This can be why treatment is often stopped, the endless frustration from not finding a treatment that will work can be overwhelming.   

#3 – Doctors:   It takes time to find a doctor you connect with and feel comfortable talking to, if not you may be less likely to listen to them.  It can take time, but it is important when you are serious about your treatment.   Psychiatrists and Psychologists alike are there to help, but it is a two way street, so understanding on both sides is vital. 

#2 – Friends and Family:  We may have heard a friend or family member say that the diagnosis is just something the doctor made up, you were just a little sad for a few days, or being told it’s not something to talk about, what will people think?   Knowing those you rely on the most are not supportive, or willing to listen and help, can set the cycle in motion again This ultimately leads to medications not being taken, doctor visits cancelled and the mind spinning looking for answers.  In the same breath, the opposite can also be true, family can promote the illness in order to keep their loved one medicated and “under control.” 

#1 – Ourselves:   It is our human nature to believe we know more than those who are telling us what to do, feel, or say.  The idea is adopted that the illness does not exist and that if it is ignored, it will go away.  Doctors can talk all they want, medications can be taken, but if we want to believe we are fine and go on with life as we see it, then that is what we will do.  It takes time for the realization to sink in that this is a life long illness and some help is needed, we are not super human, though there are times we believe we are. 

I know there are many more reasons or ideas that can be used to explain why it is so difficult to stabilize these illnesses, but if just one of these sounds familiar, then it is one step closer to finding the peace that is so desperately wanted and needed.

  

This is what it feels like to be lost and found in a psychotic episode

Mental illness shows itself in many ways, it can be sad, joyous, tiring, energetic, destructive and ultimately confusing.  There is one aspect though, that is often not talked about, it is the good, the bad and the ugly all rolled into one, it is psychosis.

When I started having psychotic episodes, they were exciting, wonderful and unsettling all at once.  You’re probably wondering how this is possible, well it is and each involved emotion plays an important part.

I do not always know I am heading into a psychosis, often someone will see it long before I do.  What I am aware of, however, is what is going on inside my brain, a mystical place full of wonder and promise, hopes and dreams, confusion and fear, all put together in a room,  let out in pairs and given the ability to experience life in the “real world.”

For me, this is how it begins.   Hopes and dreams appear first, being a writer and photographer I am suddenly struck with the most amazing ideas and decide that all of them are going to work, so I begin implementing each one all at the same time.  A new book idea is started, Writer’s groups are joined, and a photography site is set up as I wait impatiently for hundreds of adoring fans to praise my work – after all it is fantastic, right? 

Wonder and promise are not far behind. I go for walks and am amazed by the images I see, the boats on the water, the birds flying and not falling, surfers and paddle boarders riding the waves.  I think of what it must be like to be on a fishing boat, to walk on an island and take those breathtaking pictures that people are waiting to see. The whole world is in front of me, the promise of what is possible and with every part of my being I know I can make it happen.  I am restless and wandering is my only desire. 

Lurking in the back of that room are confusion and fear, they ease their way out, often unnoticed, and begin the not so nice side of this otherwise joyous experience.  Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, there is a flash of something out of the corner of my eye.  A person, an animal, a car passing by, I can’t really be sure; all I know is it doesn’t feel right.  When the two little trouble makers feel the hallucinations are not enough they add sound bites as I hear my name called when no one is around.  These two little imps are clever, for fun they throw in uncontrolled thoughts, and I begin to wonder if people are mad at me, why are they not talking to me, did I do something to upset them, am I not good enough?  These are often combined with the idea something is about to go terribly wrong.  Ah, they are devilish, cunning little things. 

See all this goes on at once, a tornado swirling around my brain.  There is the part of me that wants it to end, the power of confusion and fear are too much, but the idea of endless opportunities and ability could stick around, but I know it won’t.  They will go back into their room and wait for another time to come out, and with them take the brilliant sunshine and promise they brought me.  I know it’s not reality, I figured that out a long time ago, but for a period of time I am on top of the world, I was invincible.  Sadly, when it all ends I feel I am nothing, my photos will seem dull and lifeless and my brilliant writings are junk.   

I know people are scared at the mere idea of this, but to me it’s normal.  My mind, in all its chaos is a place I can hide, and sometimes it decides to come out and play; we understand each other – sort of.

No matter how you look at it, my brain has a mind of its own and what it is capable of is nothing short of amazing.

A Lesson I Keep Having to Learn and Relearn

In a perfect world we act, sometimes wrong, and when we do we learn not to do that action again.  We move on with life not really thinking about it again, chalking it up to one of life’s learning moments.

There are times though when, for me, that doesn’t always work.  There is that intellectual part of my brain that tells me, “You shouldn’t do that, you know what is going to happen and it’s time to step back and think first.”  Then there is a other side of the brain, the one that thinks it knows better and can control  everything, that  tells me, ”Don’t worry, we got this.”

Seems complicated, doesn’t it, actually it’s quite simple and it is in that simplicity that I lose myself and my logical thinking.  With my mental health challenges I know that I need to take care of myself in every way possible, the right amount of sleep, eat right, exercise, take my medication, but most of all I need to listen to my body and what my mind is telling me.  This lesson is one that was brought to the forefront recently and set me back a bit.

Working a part time job four or five days a week is OK, the hours are good and I have plenty of down time and freedom to focus on what I need to do.  However, a couple weeks ago they became shorthanded at work and asked me to come in on my two days off.  Of course I jumped at the chance, two extra days of pay, how could I turn that down.  My mind right away went to how much I could make with the additional days, what we would be able to do with the extra money – that was the focus, the extra money.  I wasn’t thinking about the affect it was going to have on me both mentally and eventually physically as well.  My normal five days suddenly turned into 12 days, it wasn’t until day 8 that it hit me and I realized what I mistake I made!   I had gone against my better judgement. 

Eight days in I was physically exhausted, I still believed I could do it, finish the next four with no problem, I had blocked the tiredness out of my head – dissociated you could say and kept moving.   When I finished my assigned days, I had two days off and collapsed.  I enjoyed the days off and knew that after that I would be on again for five more days. 

That’s when it hit me, I woke up that morning for work and a weight was on my chest.  The world was coming at me from every direction, conversations I’d had recently had suddenly became scenarios in my head where I was wrong and would be chastised for, and no good to anyone.  I was in the midst of a major anxiety attack.   For the first time in many months I took my anxiety medicine and went to work, wanting nothing more than to just be alone and let this pass, and jump start my brain again.

As you can imagine this is not the first time I have done this, felt I could take on the world and have no repercussions, and sadly it probably won’t be the last.  Each time, however, I can only hope that I get a little stronger, a little smarter and maybe a little wiser and know that I need to listen to not only my body, but my mind.  In my case, my mind is what is most important, if that happens to short circuit, the whole wall will tumble down and it will often take days to try and build it back up to try again.

Oddly enough, yes, there is a positive side to this.  I am learning, slowly and with encouragement that I need to take better care of myself.  Look at the bigger picture, i.e. myself, not what a few extra days of work will do for the bank account, think of what it will do to me.  It’s not selfish, its self care and knowing what it will take to stay well and available for friends, family and life in general. 

The Person that changed my approach to mental illness

                                                                               

The person that changed my approach to mental illness was my dad, but not in a way you may think.

In 1996, just shy of my 30^th birthday I was hospitalized for the first time and officially diagnosed with Schizo-Affective Disorder.   (This illness was passed genetically to me from my father who lived with Paranoid Schizophrenia.   Schizo-Affective in essence is a combination of Bipolar Disorder and Schizophrenia)   I finally had an answer to what had been happening to me mentally, physically, not to mention the effects it had on those I loved.  I knew what I had to do to help myself, take my medication, visit the psychologist and take care of myself physically.  This was not going to go away over night, or with the magic of a pill.  It was long term and I had to face it. 

Like most people, however, I am stubborn and believed I knew better than the doctors, I could do this on my own.  I didn’t want medication or help from them, I knew what was wrong and could get myself through it, and after all I’d made it this far, right? 

My theory seemed to be working until one early April morning in 1999; I received a phone call that my dad had passed away.  While his death was heartbreaking, knowing how and why he died threw me into my own reality and made me see who I didn’t want to become.

My dad lived for more than 30 years in a world of his own.  He rejected treatments, doctors and hospitals; he was a wanderer, always searching for what was in his heart or an idea he was chasing.  I consider that a part of who he was, as a Native American his spirit called to him and he followed, it was the  part of himself that he could control and enjoy, the one part that was not taken away from him by illness.   Videos were found after his death that he had made; snippets of himself trying to explain away the voices and confusion in his head,  we could see that while the intelligent and talent man we knew was talking, his mind was not his own.

That moment, those images, rocked me to my core, he was not able to help himself when he needed it most.  The illness that took over his mind was too powerful for him to control and without help from a doctor; he could not put the voices and images to rest. 

I realized that what I had been doing was no different from what my dad had done, ignoring the doctors, and believing I was better on my own, that the voices and images were nothing to worry about. I came to realize that yeah, they were something to worry about and if I didn’t start listening and taking care of myself, I too would become a statistic – as statistic like my dad. 

I tell people that he gave life to me twice, he is my father, but in his death he saved me from falling down the same path he did.  I’m not saying it’s been easy, I have been hospitalized a few times over the years and at times still buck the system, but what has kept me going is knowing that I am stronger with each day and I believe he is with me, watching to make sure I stay on track and live my life, a life that was cut short for him.   

His Native American spirit is in me as well, I too am a wanderer and find the greatest joy and peace when I am hiking or taking photographs, it is then that the voices settle, the mind focuses and just for a moment, I am free!

I live now for both of us.  

Are you too intelligent to be Mentally Ill?

This is a common problem for many people, the outside world, as it can be referred to, feels that if you are intelligent or creative, then you can’t be mentally ill.  The stigma is that those who are mentally ill commit crimes and cause trouble. 

If you look down through history some of the greatest minds have been or are mentally ill.  Famous authors, musician, painters, doctors, etc.  It seems that the creative mind feeds off its self.  These disorders fuel the brain, whether it is depression, mania, hallucinations or anxiety, each plays a part in shaping who we are and bringing our gifts to light.  Recently Carrie Fisher passed away, a great voice for bringing Mental Illness to light.  She had an amazing gift and used it to bring joy to others through her movies and understanding through her work to fight the stigma of these illnesses. 

I wish I could explain how it all works, but the one thing I can agree with, is what Brian Wilson of the Beach Boys spoke of in a 2002 interview. *In 2002, he spoke of how the disorder affects his creativity, explaining: "I haven't been able to write anything for three years. I think I need the demons in order to write, but the demons have gone. It bothers me a lot. I've tried and tried, but I just can't seem to find a melody.*  There is a lot of truth in what he says, our brains are meant to work a certain way for us and to change that, changes who we are.   

I’ve been hospitalized a few times and what I learned there or was told was that I was too intelligent!  I was to analytical! I became friends with the art therapist, she would push me to do things differently, to not analyze, to do something that I haven’t done before.  It was a great challenge for me because it’s not who I am.  It is a quandary we often find ourselves in and not one that we can answer or control.   

While I will admit it is a nuisance at times, it helps me to be the best I can be at my craft – writing and photography.  I believe it is the complexity of my brain that allows me to do these things, to craft stories, to see things in nature that others may not see and share that through my photography.  Would I want it to be different? That’s actually a hard question to answer, while yes to be without my illness would be great, no more medications, doctor visits, no mood swings and all the things that go along with it, however, I wouldn’t be ME.  I curse this illness most days, but it is because of it that I am able to do what I do.  My brain, while many would see it as not working correctly, I feel works just fine.  Yes, I have challenges, but doesn’t everyone? 

The thing is, beyond all the talk, stigma and misunderstanding,  there is the knowledge that we are gifted because we are fighting harder than we ever thought we would be able to and that in itself is worth bragging about.   So, be creative, be loud, be funny and let the world know that this is what Mental Illness looks like. 

A Portrait of Mental Illness

Her eyes tell the story of a lifetime
The world inside her is in turmoil,
The darkness shows the trials and fears of life,
the ones that can't be shaken
even when touched by the light of day

Her eyes tell the story of a lifetime
The empty stare wondering where it all goes from here.
Is there hope?

Her eyes tell the story of a life time
The upturned face, a picture of knowledge and loss all at once.
The desire to know who she is,
yet never wanting to let on to the truth.

It is in the deepest part of her eyes that she stays,
wanting to be free,
wanting to feel,
yet can't find her way out from behind the wall that keeps her true self hidden.

Her eyes tell the story.........

Remembering who you are, you're not your illness.

If you change the wording a little, "Can you remember who you were, before mental illness told you who to be?"  Does it sound a little more familiar? 

I can, I have always been a creative person.  I remember being 10 years old sitting on my bedroom floor making clothes for my Barbie's, or swinging on the front porch writing stories.  I always had a book with me; spending summer vacations reading as many books as I could, the hours at the library made me feel alive.  It was seen as the dabbling of a child though; no one put much thought into it or asked me what I wanted to do when I grew up.  I was told I was going to college and I would get a degree, get a job, get married and have babies.  I called their bluff, however, and enlisted in the military; I wanted to be on my own, away from the world I knew.  It never stopped my love of writing though, I continued - only no one knew.  I kept it too myself, my secret, the person I really was.

Mental illness changes many things in life and it can be difficult to silence the voices that say this is as good as it will be, the past is over, the person who was, can no longer be.  These are the lies that are transmitted with a diagnosis.  It feels as if, with the doctor’s words, comes a badge that tells us nothing will ever be the same again.

While there is some truth to this way of thinking, it's not the whole story.  A diagnosis of mental illness will change the future, that is true, but it cannot take away your past, the person you are deep inside.   There will be new challenges, an unseen battle of the mind that can make the days more difficult, but it does not mean that you are different as a whole person; it is merely a different way of living and looking at the world. 

This idea, however, does not come easy.  With such a diagnosis there is the immediate fear of stigma and being ashamed, both of which are society’s perception.  Life seems different and there is the question of how it will be now, medication, doctor visits, therapy.  Do I tell people? Friends, family, work colleagues?  These questions themselves are enough to add to the anxiety, but taking a step back can help bring it into perspective.  

If a friend came to you and said they had received a diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder, what would you do?  Think about that for a minute, what is the first thing you would do?   For most of us we would hope that we would be supportive, and there is no doubt we would be, but would there be a second of doubt and uncertainty?  Would you question, maybe for the first time who this person is?  Have they changed in your eyes? 

Now, look in the mirror - do you have these same questions about yourself?  The diagnosis of mental illness not only creates doubt and uncertainty in those around us, but in ourselves as well.  That is why we need to sit back and remember who we truly are, the person deep inside, whom we are at our core.  

Growing up you may have wanted to be an artist, but society told you that it was not a lucrative career path, were they wrong, or was it only their opinion?  With this new diagnosis, it will also be their opinion that you will hear.  Maybe now will be the perfect time to start a new career, follow that dream you always thought you couldn't have.  It can be seen as a new lease on life, a new beginning.  

While this total shift in careers or life may not be possible for everyone, it does offer the chance to explore what is inside of us a little more.  Creating a stronger and more resilient person than we ever thought we could be.  

What a Wallaby taught me about Bipolar Disorder.

 

Have you ever had a moment when things become a little clearer, you could relate a specific incident to what you were feeling?  I had one of those moments this morning; it was heart wrenching but triggered something in my mind, I suddenly realized that I was not alone in my struggle and I could learn something everyday on how this illness works and what others do to live with it and make the right decisions, or even how to live with the bad ones.  

 It was 6am, and I was driving to the beach for a sunrise walk, thinking of the sand, the sun and the quiet during the morning, when I saw them – the Wallabies  One hopped causally across the road; I slowed down knowing there was probably another not far behind.  Sure enough he was on the side of the road trying to decide if he should cross.   As we watched each other, he turned  back into the bush, or so I thought.   Watching him return to where he’d come from I continued on – well, he had a last second change of heart and turned to road as I drove past him, the two of us meeting in a split second, and I couldn’t stop.   I felt the bump, and in that moment and my heart sank.   I slowed looking in my mirror terrified at what I would see and what I had done.   However, he wasn’t there!   Where had he gone?  I was sure I had hit him.  

 So, what does this have to with Bipolar Disorder, you ask?   As I walked down the beach, thinking over the incident just moments before, I realized the Wallaby was as confused as I am sometimes, turning back and forth, not sure of the next step to take.  My mind jumbled, turning in circles as I figure out my following move.

 Hiding in the bush wondering if he should come out, is like hiding in a dark room afraid to go outside, to let people in.  What will they think?  If they see will they stop and talk, or will they just walk by.

 Standing on the side of the road deciding what to do, is the spinning mind and the uncertainty that plagues everyday actions.   Too many days are spent wondering what to do with the racing thoughts, wishing they would stop and focus to be on a single moment and action, if only for a few minutes.

Tires catching his tail are the risks taken – both good and bad.   When incorrect decisions are made, there are people who are hurt; there is a feeling of helplessness and seemingly no way to make it better.  The good is when a risk is taken and can stand tall, no matter the pain and press on determined to do the right thing. 

Wallabies, Kangaroos, Wombats and various other wildlife find their way on to the roads, and their struggle with survival, taking chances, relying on instinct to make the right decision is relatable to those with mental illness and challenges faced daily.   

There is no doubt. I will look more closely from this day forward, though that isn’t a guarantee of it not happening again, just like each cycle, I go through – as mania and depression collide – I will at some point come face to face with an obstacle along the road.