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.    

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.  

Light versus Dark in Mental Illness

As I sit on the rocks overlooking the sea everything seems possible.  Such beauty in the water, calm and serene one moment, crashing ashore the next with all its power.  Clouds come from every direction.  The dark and the light meeting in the middle, vying for control bringing out the beauty in each other.

I have learned that each side tells a story.  One that I need to listen to, to understand the illness I live with and must face each day.

The darkness whispers in my ear, “I am too strong for you, I cannot be beaten.”  In that moment I believe, faith in myself falls to the wayside and I wonder if I will ever be “normal,” again.   My anxiety increases as I look the cloud in the eye, I know it is right I am not strong enough for this.  Sadness overtakes me and I slide down the wall, sit on the floor and wonder how I got here.

Just when I am ready to give up the sun speaks up, “Are you going to let the dark control you? Are you not going to fight?”  I look up, the brightness makes me smile, yet I am skeptical.  Can it be that simple?  Walking outside I feel the warmth on my face and the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks.  I start to remember how far I’ve come, and what I have done to fight this battle and survive.

The sun smiles and the cloud rumbles in defeat.  I look at them knowing they will always have a place inside me; they will battle each other again and again.  That I cannot deny.  While each believes in their power, I have to know who I am and what I can do when the dark cloud stops by to talk for a while. I cannot give into his lies and defeating attitude.  The sun shines on my face, my guide to battle the darkness, bringing me to the place I need to be.  The healthy, confident person I have worked for and to be an advocate for others.  

“H” is for Healthcare, Hope and Happiness #atozchallenge

I combine these three in this way; I have hope for happiness with the right healthcare; it is and has been, however, easier said than done.  One of the greatest challenges those with a mental illness face are healthcare.   It is unfortunately difficult to find a psychiatrist at times, a specialty the medical field that few seem to gravitate to.  If a good doctor is found the next obstacle is insurance, there is a major problem when it comes to insurance and their willingness to pay for mental health care, leaving the person to pay out of pocket.  This is one of the people do not go for care; they can’t afford it and insurance companies won’t pay for it.  An article in February of this year talks about mental health care and the Affordable Care Act,  while insurance companies will now be required to fund care, finding doctors to the take the insurance may be another battle, due to the shortage of doctor's and the overload of patients who will seek care.  

It amazes me that one of the first things to be cut from a budget is psychiatric care, clinics and hospitals. It is sad to know that those who are mentally ill are neglected in the healthcare area, when they need it the most.  A article from October 2013, talks of  President John Kennedy’s vision for mental health care and that, “Fifty years later, our biggest providers of mental health care in the U.S.A. are not hospitals or community mental health centers at all… but prisons.”  His vision was never realized, and today we find more and more people in jail rather than receiving the treatment they need.  While incarcerated they are still not given the help they need further complicating the person's illness. 

There are countless articles and news reports on the lack of funding and doctor’s available to treat those with psychiatric illnesses, but they are not usually brought to the forefront until something goes wrong, such as a school shooting.  It is only then that it is addressed, and the questions come as to why it continues to be allowed.  Mental illness is no different than cancer, or diabetes, but is looked at as something to be swept under the rug and not talked of – something that has not changed over the years. 

The sad thing is so many people could be helped, and maybe many disasters avoided if only we listened.   In some cases, these acts are being carried out as a cry for help, not to hurt people but so someone will notice, and they can get help.  If you ask someone with a mental illness if they have ever attempted suicide for attention, you will find that the answer very well will be yes, it’s a cry for help in a world that just does not want to listen.  

The conversation and finger pointing will go on for years to come, I am afraid, but it is a reality we must face.  It is why I decided to go public with my own struggles with mental health and what I have gone through not only personally but also concerning health care.  While I have insurance that does cover it, my co-pay for my doctor visits is higher and the number of specialists to choose from is very low, so even though I am covered there is still a problem.  This cannot  continue if we plan to help those who need it most. 

“D” is for Discovery and Dissociative Identity Disorder #atozchallenge

I sat down a few days ago to plan out each letter for this month and when I came to the letter D, there

were several that came to mind, so instead of trying to pick only one I am going to touch on two of them to the best of my ability.

My first step in discovery of my illness and the fact that I needed to find a way to survive, for lack of a better word, was when my father died in 1999.  My dad was Paranoid Schizophrenic; he was lost to this world his illness taking his mind and life away to a place we could never understand.  The saddest part was his refusal to seek treatment; he preferred who he was and spent his days wandering.  The day I learned of his death. I was devastated; the illness had won.  I didn’t care what the coroner said, massive heart attack was his opinion and only I knew the truth; schizophrenia took his life.  

With this news, I realized what was ahead of me, the battle I was facing, and it was up to me to make the change and fight what my mind was challenging me with.  I came to see it this way; my dad gave life to me twice.  Being my father was the first, the second he saved my life with his unfortunate early death.  For that I am forever grateful and his picture sits on my desk, my spirit guide and strength when every part of me wants to give up. 

“D” is also for the one part of my illness that I almost never talk about, Dissociative Identity Disorder.  Mentioning this brings the idea of the movie Sybil to most people and that is what is believed to be the truth when it comes to Multiple Personalities, unfortunately it is merely a fabrication, and the reality is far less exciting.  

My dissociation was created as a way to survive years of horrible abuse at the hands of a man who should not have been allowed to walk the earth for any length of time.  It wasn't only him though, there were others after him, but he forced  the different parts of me into reality, and that is where they have stayed.  I wish I could tell you some dramatic story of things I have done, or how they have exposed themselves, but I cannot.  I have four total, three female and one male; two of them are protectors and keep me safe.  I know I do not need them anymore, but I am so used to their presence that getting angry is difficult on my own.  One is still the little girl hoping for someone to rescue her from the hell; she is experiencing, and the last one is probably more of who I am at the very core of my soul, who I didn't get to become.  She is a dreamer, a seeker and wanderer; she wants to explore the world and discover all that was missed in our days of silence.

They have served their purpose, pulled me through many days when I wanted no more than to die and unfortunately have also gotten me into a lot of trouble.  There are times when I have done things I either didn’t remember or didn’t realize what the repercussions would be, but it goes with the territory, and it is my job now to keep myself under control – all of me.  

So the letter D has been quite interesting, and I am hoping a bit informative, I do not talk about it much, but it is a part of me and in order for me truly stand up for what I believe and to fight the stigma of mental illness, I need to bear it all. 

Lessons in Art Therapy

It has been more than a year since I posted to this blog, my illness decided it was time to shake me up a bit and stop being so complacent about my treatment and how I dealt with my mood swings and medication.  It has taken a little more than a year to get myself back to where I am able to live again, but it has been a bumpy ride and one I am ready to share and hope that others can relate to and find hope in.

Lessons in Art Therapy

I had to keep the knot in the wood open and exposed; every part of me wanted to cover it up and hide it.  That flaw reflected every part of me and why I was there, covering it up would make it go away, at least that was my theory.  However, she was watching me closely, with each piece of tissue paper I placed on the block she made sure I was following her directions.

What was so difficult about putting paper on a block of wood and leaving one spot uncovered?

The closer I came to finish my project the more anxious I became, the more aware of the knot and the way it stood out.  Everyone could see the beautiful colors that were blending together; it was a work of art, but turn it over, and there it was – my illness staring them in the face.  That’s when it hit me, by leaving that small piece exposed I was allowing the world to see my secret, I was granting them permission into my very private battle, and it was not OK.

The media had already painted a picture of who I was, supposedly, and I did not believe I had the strength to change their minds.  The piece of wood sat on my desk for a few weeks reminding me of what everyone would no know, but each I looked at it became more and more clear to me that what I was hiding was ME! 

Mental illness has always been the illness no one talks about, the one that is skirted around and whispered in the darkness.  Admittance all too often brings loneliness, loss of a job, friends and freedom to be who you truly are.  THAT is what I learned, I could no longer hide behind the façade, I had to live.  The media has the power to convince people that something is very bad, but it also has the power to change people’s minds about at topic and with the piece of wood on my desk, I decided it was time to stop hiding, to stop running and start fighting back.  I realized that more often than not unless you tell someone they may not know that you have a mental illness, and you are hiding for nothing; they already accept you and if they are a true friend, they will continue to see who you really are even after the reveal.

It is my hope now that I am able to help others see that the knot they are hiding is not something to be ashamed of, but something to embrace.  These illnesses are not easy; they take our life to places we would rather not go, but together we can fight and each day is another opportunity to show the world that mental illness is not a bad word, is not scary, and we are not monsters. 

God has been diagnosed with Bipolar disorder

 Did that get your attention?

It seems no one is safe, not even God from the long reach of psychiatrist's diagnosis and the need to categorize people and explain the things they do or don't do. 

I came across this article a couple of weeks ago, of course being bipolar myself,  it caught my attention, and I was interested in how the diagnosis was made that God himself had Bipolar.

A psychiatrist and Doctor of Divinity at Yale university has made the ground-breaking  diagnosis that God does indeed suffer from Bipolar Disorder. According to statistics, 5 percent of the world's population suffers from some form of Bipolar, but this declaration of God joining the ranks seems a little far fetched and even a bit sacrilegious.  The report states that the evidence can be found throughout history, within the unending stories of disasters, love, anger and salvation often all at the same time and with little or no reason.

The professor states that we need to understand that God cannot  be held responsible for his actions, just like any of us cannot  be if we suffer from the illness.  For those of us here on earth, there is information available to help control the mood swings, mania and depression.  For me, a combination of Zoloft and Lamictal works wonders, however the dosage of Zoloft must be monitored as it can trigger a manic episode. 

Similarly, it was noted that Gods Bipolar is actually seasonal, proven by the chaos of storms, tornados and hurricanes experienced throughout the spring and summer, while fall and winter bring decay and cold gray days.

Is it possible God suffers from rapid cycling? Many with Bipolar Disorder will experience 12 cycles of mania and depression in a lifetime, for others. However, rapid cycling brings  can occur four or more times a year, often coinciding with the changing seasons. 

It's hard to imagine that someone would seriously consider this idea and make it public knowledge, but for some trying to understand the reason things happen to make them easier to accept.

I think it is certainly a stretch to say God suffers from the illness. I cannot  imagine arriving at my psychiatrist's office only to see God leaving the office after his appointment.   Then again, if it was to be true, maybe the stigma that goes along with a diagnosis of any mental illness may not exist, and it would be more widely accepted as normal. 

Anything is possible, but I for one will not go along with the idea that God has a bipolar disorder- it does make you think though.