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. 

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. 

After the April Blog challenge #atozblogchallenge

April brought the opportunity to let my voice be heard in the area of mental health, the struggles, misconceptions, treatments and simple thoughts of my own.  I struggled through some of it; the challenge was trying to find things that began with each letter, but in the end, it came together.   I did take a small break after the challenge to recharge my battery, so to speak and decide where to go from here.  What I learned during the month of April though was this……………. 

Mental Health Stigma will always be with us, as people, we fear what we do not know and cannot understand.  The easiest thing to do is walk away and whisper to others what we fear the most about the illnesses.  As one who lives with Mental illness, it is a heartbreaking thing to see, I speak for everyone; I believe, when I say we are just like everyone else; you would be surprised to know the truth about these illnesses and what they do and don’t do a person. 

For some of this, I blame the media; they are first to mention mental illness as the cause for any act of violence that occurs, when it most likely had nothing to do with the event, but it is the perfect scapegoat for what was done, after all. How could anyone really cause such pain to others?  It is for this reason that I rarely watch the news anymore; it makes me angry on so many levels. 

Now that I have put it out there about my illness, it is time be more open and share the ups and downs, the struggles and triumphs of my battle in the hopes it will help others know they are no longer alone in this world, and you do not have to hide.  

I am interested in what you think about the issue of stigma and mental health and if there are certain topics you would like to see covered here.  

"V" is for Vignette #atozblogchallenge

For today’s blog post, I decided to share a small snippet of my book, “Thoughts From A Cluttered Mind,” with you all, after all V is for Vignette.   The story is a journey of my struggle with mental illness, abuse, PTSD and how I came out the other side, a bit battered and bruised but wiser and ready to take on the world that was my enemy for so many years.  

“Click, slam, click.”  

The sound of the door locking terrified me as I walked slowly down the hall. 

“How did I get here?” I said out loud to no one, the suicide note was just for attention, just so someone would listen and take me seriously. 

I knew that part was only partially true, I had written the note for attention, but I also knew there was part of me that was ready to call it quits, Up until that afternoon to the outside world; I seemed a normal wife and mom.  Inside my mind, however, a storm was brewing, and I was caught in the middle of it.  It is these feelings and realizations that ran through my mind as I walked through the front doors of the psychiatric hospital that late July night.  I had reached the bottom, and found myself admitted to the mental hospital, I say call it what it is, a place for those who were crazy and couldn’t deal with reality, at least’s that how I felt as I walked down the hallway.

I wouldn’t get any answers from anyone tonight. Their only concern was keeping an eye on me, so I didn’t make another suicide attempt.  Tomorrow I would see about getting out of here; this was a misunderstanding.  A million thoughts ran through my head as I stared at the cold white ceiling, maybe if I just go to sleep, I will wake to find this to be a bad dream. 

It would be a night of interrupted sleep; my mind playing back the movie of my life and what I was seeing terrified me, I couldn’t escape it.  The memories had started, and I was nowhere near ready to face them. Instead I sat on the hard mattress and wrote, the words flowing out of me like a waterfall.   

 (journal entry) So, I hid.  I hid behind the walls thinking I was safe from the outside world, but I was not.  I was safe only from myself, for the time being.  I liked the comfort of knowing I wasn’t alone, that people understood me.  Outside the walls, the windows, behind the shades and curtains, there was a world that could not understand the confines of my brain.  They will never know what it’s like to sleep at night and pray you won’t wake up, that the loneliness will be over, and I would understand the truth that was in my mind.  Instead, I would wake up and find nothing has changed; I was alone.  I still had the desire for some sort of normalcy, and that I feared would never come.  If it did, would I notice it? How could I?

What does Mental Illness look like to you?

Image by Ilja via Flickr

Twisting and turning with nowhere to go, running from fear that no one can hear.  Hidden well in the depths of our souls searching for answers that only we can know.  We live in our minds, a place of confusion, hoping for understanding, though we dare not speak its name.  It controls our days and keeps us awake at night.  It is responsible for dark circles and hunger as it eats away at our souls. 

To the outside world, we pretend we are strong, that we are alive and ready for adventure, when in reality for us, it is always Halloween – we wear the mask of confusion and let others interpret it as they wish. Until then, we wear the mask, stumble through our days and look for the light that only we can see, the light that will guide us out of the confusion and into a life, we desire to live, full of rainbows and blue skies and the clear direction we so desperately need.    

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