A few things I don’t like to hear about my mental illness

I re worked some of my earlier writing

I used to only disclose my mental illness to a few people because I was worried about the reactions I would get. I had already received negative responses when I had to stop working. But not talking about my mental illness limited my ability to converse. It was hard to think of things to talk about. I was afraid my secret would get out, so I’ve slowly been opening up. And although being open about my mental illness makes me feel free, it comes with a cost.

Here are some of the worst things people have told me after I’ve opened up about my mental illness:

1. “I want the old you back.”

First off, I know I’ve lost a lot because of my illness. Jobs, friends, income, time. I feel that loss. I want those things back, too. But, I’m realistic enough to know time has moved on and I have to deal with where I am now. But, more importantly, I’m right here. I may act strange sometimes or think unusual thoughts, but I’m still the person I’ve always been. Accept me as I am now.

2. “You need to…”

I’ve been given a lot of unsolicited advice. But I’m actually doing pretty well at the moment and don’t need suggestions. But, even when I was more symptomatic, I didn’t need people to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do.

3. “You’re too emotional.”

I’m not sure what that means. I have a mood disorder and changing moods come with the territory. When you point out I’m “too emotional” or “too sensitive” it’s completely unfair. I can’t help how I feel.

4. “You don’t look like you have a mental illness.”

I don’t know what to say to that. I think it’s meant as some sort of compliment, but it negates all I’ve been through and denies something that I know is real.

What I dislike the most is being talked about like I am not even there.

All I expect from others is to listen and be understanding. To treat me like a whole person and not something that needs to be fixed. To feel loved and like I matter. That’s all I need.

The Flatland Dilemma in Interpreting Bipolar Mania.

People in mania are known for flights of fancy and the rapid association of ideas. Of all the forms of intelligence that we may possess, it is only the ability to recognize analogies and build associations that suffers when we go on mood stabilizers. I think it can be a mistake for outsiders to believe that this ability leads to wild, random, and unusable linkages in our mind. I find that my ability to write poetry — meaningful poetry — suffered after I started taking lithium; I lost insights. Of course, many other more negative traits like my irritability, grandiosity, and racing thoughts disappeared so I consider it a net gain.

The things we bring back from our adventures in mania land aren’t all rubbish. Poets such as Shelley and Byron depended on their manic states to generate compelling material. Some scientists have conceived startling new concepts. Isaac Newton is a classic example of a maniac whose insights transformed the science of his day and enabled him to revolutionize mathematics with his invention of calculus. The trouble comes when we try to bring our insights back from the fine and private place of our sickness.

William Knowland’s Flatland — which was written to explain the difficulties inherent in Faith — presents a useful allegory for our struggle to explain what we have found. Imagine a two dimensional figure, say a square. Imagine that it is you. Your perceptions are limited to two dimensions, so while you can make out one dimensional figures such as lines and points, you cannot appreciate three dimensional ones. If you were one dimensional, squares would appear as lines to you. Angles and other aspects of the square would invisible.

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Where have I been, what have I seen?

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I realized I haven’t blogged in about a month. Where have I been?

I discovered an app called periscope. It lets you live stream and talk and others can type and chat. The few people who have came to my “scopes” are pretty shy, so I feel like I am talking to myself, but it is fun.

In the news:

There was a recent study on marijuana use and health

http://www.apa.org/pubs/journals/releases/adb-adb0000103.pdf

http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2015/08/150804093718.htm

Teen marijuana use not linked to later depression, lung cancer, other health problems, study finds

Study contradicts some prior marijuana research

“Chronic marijuana use by teenage boys does not appear to be linked to later physical or mental health issues such as depression, psychotic symptoms or asthma, according to a new study.”

One of the researchers stated:

“We wanted to help inform the debate about legalization of marijuana, but it’s a very complicated issue and one study should not be taken in isolation,” Bechtold said.

New Project:

MentalHealthJustice.net (has twitter and facebook pages) is collecting videos of people’s stories with mental illness.. They can be about 3-5 minutes

The Night of The Cut *Graphic Self Harm Trigger Warning*

******TRIGGER WARNING: Anorexia somewhat and EXTREMELY GRAPHIC SELF HARM******

DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU ARE EASILY TRIGGERED BY SELF HARM ESPECIALLY IN GRAPHIC DETAIL.

You have been warned.

This is probably the single most important story in my life. It led to a cascade of events: hospitalization, my correct diagnosis of bipolar, getting kicked out of school, and finally getting the real help I needed.

It was 6am when I finally asked my ex-boyfriend for my knife back. We aren’t on speaking terms and we are clear that we can never be. We’re either together or not. And together is awful, dangerous, addicting, full of love, full of hate.

Today I see him to get it back, so I stress out about it of course. I overthink what I will wear. I felt the need to show him how much my appearance has changed, how much I have changed. Both of which are major improvements.

Should I go laid back in my cute dorm-room college girl get up all from Victoria’s Secret? Or should I go with my traditional assemble which people describe as “edgy” because its boots and leather jackets and what not?
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Unseen Contributor to Teen Mental Illness?

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It has been bothering me for a few years now. The surge in young teens who seem absorbed in mental illness.

I first noticed it after I’d had my iphone for a while. Probably over a year after (I was 18 when I got it). I’d been diagnosed when i was 17, and was probably 19 when I noticed. I was on instagram when I got the random desire to see if there were posts about mental illness on there.

And what I saw horrified me.

Kids as young as 12 were posting horrible photos. Typically it was just the cliche depressed quotes over and over again. But there were also photos of other things… there was “thinspiration” where people would post skinny girls who were their “goal” look in terms of thinness. And then there was the pencil test to determine if you really are thin or not, so people posted pictures of those. And pictures of thigh gaps. But I can’t relate to eating disorders, never had one and don’t think I ever will. Then there were ones that flooded my search and were even triggering to me- self harm photos. They were everywhere. I was horrified.
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A Letter to My Children

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You may have wondered why I am not quite like other moms. I get tired easily and haven’t always been there to play. I haven’t taken you as many places. I don’t know what else, but I apologize

When you were very young, I had a psychotic break. That is when you lose touch with reality. I was thinking strange thoughts, seeing things , hearing voices of people I know, who weren’t there.

It seemed like it came out of the blue. I was keeping to myself and not saying much. I was going to work and your father was with us at home, but no one seemed to notice. People at work asked if I was okay and why I was sad, but that was it.

It wasn’t until Aunt Kim called on the phone. You know she is a nurse practitioner. She recognized that I wasn’t making sense and told Dad I needed to see a special kind of doctor. The doctor is called a psychiatrist. He prescribes me medication.

I went to the hospital for a short time. Leila I know you were worried when I was gone. I am sorry for about that. I want you to have a better understanding so you won’t have to worry if I go to the hospital again.

I have a mental illness. You may be familiar with other words people use, like “crazy”. I am not crazy, but I need medication for my brain to work right. Now, I don’t have those strange thoughts or voices.

I thought I would answer questions, as you asked, but you didn’t ask much. Leila, one day you helped me make a poster for a NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness) class. You asked why “I” was making it and I told you because I had a mental illness. You just said “I didn’t know that” and went back to playing. That was years ago. I don’t know if you remember.

And, you recently made me a friendship bracelet that says DBSA (Depression Bipolar Support Alliance). I thought you might ask something when I asked for that, but you forgot what letters I asked for. I love my DSBA bracelet

Jonah, I know you are well aware of my medication. I take you to the pharmacy sometimes. I don’t want you to have to worry that I am physically ill. I recently tried to explain to you, but I fumbled my words, and you didn’t want to hear any more.

I do want to say how proud I am of both of you. Leila, you are so smart, talented and pretty. Jonah, you are so athletic, funny and hard working. I always worried that I wouldn’t give you enough. That somehow having a mentally ill parent would affect you, but you are the greatest kids.

If you have questions, please ask. I know you can imagine things worse than the truth. Jonah, remember when I wore sunglasses inside and you worried I was going blind? I want to be honest with you. I don’t want to announce it to the world, but I don’t want to keep my illness a secret from you.

Mom

The Beast

I think it is important to make a separation between ourselves and the disease. This, I think, is a state of mind more than anything else. I give mine a name — The Beast. Sometimes The Beast is ravenous and chews on my rib cage; other times it is rabid and tears out the sinews of my self control. I do my best to tame The Beast and part of that taming is taking my meds. But The Beast is only part of what makes me, me. I feel that The Beast, properly leashed, is part of the “essential and precious character” of my person, but not the only one to be acknowledged, reviled, or celebrated.

The illness and me

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I try not to over-identify with my mental illness. It is part of me, but not all of me. I have heard people suggest it is something separate. What is the illness vs what is me? I understand that. There are symptoms, behaviors that aren’t typical for me.

For me, I am a person with a mental illness, like I am a person with green eyes.. I don’t know how to tease the two apart.

There was a point, after diagnosis, when I would interpret any change in mood as a symptom. I would micro-manage my illness. I spent a lot of time reading and trying to make sense of it all.

To me, part of my healing, was to learn to trust that a good day could be a good day and a bad mood could be normal. That I could relax and not worry so much.

I still spend a lot of time on mental illness websites, volunteering for mental health organizations, going to support groups but at least sometimes I feel like I can share and educate and give back.

What Makes for a Good Caregiver?

When one takes aim at a system of privilege, some jump to the conclusion that you hate the people who stand to gain from that system and have no compassion for their struggles. Caregivers can make it hard on themselves and on the patient. They give twenty four hours a day seven days a week looking after people in severe episode. They neglect their own health. They grow weary and cross from all their over-involvement.

Our DBSA chapter feels that caregivers need their own place where they can talk about their issues and we have provided one. We do not tell them what they can and can’t talk about. We do not ask them to support certain laws or advocate for changes that they do not want. We don’t have a patient monitor the group to be sure that they act according to some unbearable standard of political correctness — people need to vent. We shelter them from people who may have an ax to grind (I have heard about other groups where caregivers were roasted over hot coals by angry patients) and who don’t appreciate how hard it is. We encourage them to talk to peers who know what it is like. We always ask them how they are feeling when they come to our patient-family support groups, reminding them that they, too, are important. We feel that their mental and physical health is as important as the patient’s and we tell them so.

I’ve been hit with some innuendo from some online caregivers who imply that I don’t care about the mentally ill. What I believe they are really saying is that I don’t care about caregivers. I do. It aches when I see a caregiver overburdened and I do my best to relieve that. Many have been the times when I have had a couple in a group and told the patient that she or he needs to realize that her or his manic state of mind is creating an extremely stressful environment for her or his spouse. How does this make me a foe of caregivers? I think much of the misapprehension stems from my opposition to Murphy’s Law, which I have explained at length elsewhere. It scares caregivers to hear me talk about sane privilege– just like it scares white people when we are talking about black people — where we who live with mental illness are left out of decisions about our treatment.

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What Happens in A Support Group

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A few months ago, a spokesperson for a “mental health advocacy organization” likened support groups to appendectomy patients performing surgery on one another. I said nothing at the time, but the remark and all the errors it entails have led me to consider how my support groups help me.

The claim that support groups seek to replace medical treatment is erroneous. DBSA South Orange County, like many other support groups of its kind, has issued a disclaimer indicating that our peer-run support groups are no substitute for a doctor’s care. This fact by itself defeats the glib assertion made above. We don’t try to cure people of their depression or their bipolar disorder. There are people with better skills for doing that than we.

What we offer is a safe place where people can talk about their struggles with the illness. Doctors and therapists know how to treat, but they don’t know what it is like to undergo treatment. They don’t encounter stigma. They have not experienced the catastrophic loss of community that can happen when one is diagnosed with a mental illness, when friends and family members run away.

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