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Working to end the stigma and discrimination of mental illness.
I was told I’m bipolar. Come again?? I was informed that due to my history of depression combined with my recent manic episode, I had a mental illness. I was sick. A team of psychiatrists advised me to change my lifestyle and change it quick, in order to stay healthy, happy, and out of the hospital.
I am very honest with others about my own experiences with mental illness. Continually, people respond with surprise that I’ve had such problems, and that makes me so happy. Why does it please me? Not because I think I’ve achieved acting “normal,” and not because I think I hide my problems well. It makes me happy because I know that, with each person I meet, I am helping to change society’s perception of mental illness.
My biggest frustration is trying to navigate the medical/psychological world begging for help in times of crisis. I'm still learning as I make mistakes, but I've had to literally beg different medical people for help. The Psych wards don't want someone with physical needs and the medical wings certainly don't want someone in a Manic Episode.
Until just recently, I've been a grown-up playing pretend. Pretending to be okay, pretending that I don't have a problem severe enough to get help, pretending that my past isn't affecting my present.
I've never seen a lonelier person. It breaks my heart everyday for him because now he is in the world of the unkown and misunderstood mind disease of schizophrenia. I could tell you the story of the onset of this life altering state, but repeating it so many times and answering the question-"What happened to Dave"?, is like reliving it over and over.
I am a 53-year-old woman with severe bipolar disorder. My symptoms began in earnest when I was 14 years old and suicidal. At 18, I had a traumatic 6-month cycle of mania and depression. I experienced depression cycling with mania on a daily basis.
I have fought and lived with depression for over half my life. I was 10 years old when I was first diagnosed, and I will be 21 soon. A few weeks after my 10th birthday, I started having uncontrollable thoughts that made me feel so guilty. I washed my hands constantly; I couldn't stop. I thought I had lost my mind.
The biggest part of my journey was depression. It was my best friend during dark times. When I would hide away from the open arms of friends, depression would wrap me in its' dark embrace. I have often heard people say through the years that people who suffer from depression are selfish. That is not true. People with depression, no matter what kind they suffer from, are lost.
I have three children, now grown, who all individually have taught me how to live. My oldest through showing me to sing, dance, write and act for fun. My middle child to adventure to distant parts of the world. My youngest, to expand and break the barrier of judging people or situations. For he has schizo-effective disorder and his life has been tortuous many times over.
I was diagnosed with GAD and Panic Disorder w/Agoraphobia almost 2 years ago. It has robbed me of much of the enjoyment of life I used to take for granted. I see people out and about and feel jealous, sad, hurt, feeling like I am the only one suffering like this.