People with Mental Illness Enrich our Lives

"I'm removing it," Fox says. "She was a negative person, she was disturbed, bipolar. I do not want to attract this kind of negative energy in my life."

This is the picture of stigma. It is the reality of Judgment.
If Hollywood says that people with mental illness are "disturbed" and negative, then I guess that makes it so huh?
lololololololololololololololololololololololololololololololololololololololololol

I read someone comment "I doubt anyone will remember Ms. Fox in 100yrs like they will remember Marilyn Monroe. May she rest in peace"

There are tonnes of "crazy" people in Hollywood **and beyond** who have created beauty in the world and added to the culture of humanity. Life for people on earth is enhanced by mental illness. There are Actors  (Patty Duke,  Roseanne Barr, Robin Williams, Jim Carry ),   Musicians (Curt Cobain, Ozzy Osbourne),   Scientists   (Isaac Newton, John Nash),   Writers  (Virginia Wolf, John Keats, Charles Dickens,),   World Leaders (Abraham Lincon, Margaret Trudeau,Winston Churchill, Florence Nightingale, Princess Diana ),   Athletes   (Mike Tyson, Lionel Aldridge)  and great thinkers   (Vincent Van Gogh, Charles Darwin), who all battle with their brains and juggle with their emotions. And with these people, these disturbed minds, we have been able discover who we are as human beings.

here are a few links you may like.
http://www.nami.org/Template.cfm?Section=Helpline1&template=/ContentManagement/ContentDisplay.cfm&ContentID=4858

http://schoolgirlforreal.hubpages.com/hub/A-List-of-Famous-People-Today-With-Mental-Illnesses

A little tabloidy but interesting
http://www.popcrunch.com/13-celebrities-with-mental-illness/


The greatest gift granted to mankind comes by way of madness - Socrates
Take Pride in your Great Mind!

There is no higher grace than your love.

Anonymous   has left a new comment on your post "Who's fault is it anyway?":

Has God left your consciousness?  How did you survive all of that?  Surely your isolation was part of this delusional state.  You may debate whether or not God carried you through but you cannot debate that I helped carry you through... after every beer you were slung over my shoulder... I drove you to hospitals, I force fed you and got you hopping mad through all my bossiness.  I'd do it all again twice.  I don't need thanks.  You were able to write this blog, that's more than enough thanks for me.  I can't imagine how hard it all was but I know there were always people who looked after you and loved you - always there was God working through whomever was closest to you at the time.  "Who's fault is it anyway?"  It was your cross to bear and I dare say you're still bearing it.  One thing I've always admired about you is that you've never bared this cross silently.  We may never know how many people you've helped by doing that.

Because this is anonymous I am not certain who wrote this. The response was for "Who's Fault is it Anyway?" But I feel it belonged in the Shout Out.

I will address the God issue brought up here first. How I feel about the practice of  Religion is irrelevant here.  Mental Health Illness has NO boundaries. It affects people of all Race's, Faith's, Gender's, Cultures, Sexual orientation's..... There is no limit to whom/when Mental Illness can occur. 1 in 4 Canadians have it. So, It is my belief that every person has their own unique way of coping. By bringing in conversations about religion, the message becomes lost in the debate of "Who's God?" or "the existence of God".  My message is about Stigma and Judgment. I tell my story because I know that any person who is going through or has gone through or has seen someone go through mental illness, can relate to what I am revealing. If I can get people to feel less alone, they may talk about their illness more. The more people there are who can talk the more stigma and judgment can be erased. When I am so open and honest, I hope that it brings confidence and relevance to the lives of others.

In saying that, Yes, God has helped. And you're right so did you. And again you are right, I did/do have many supporters and loved ones. How did I survive though? Well at the core of my survival was that failure to survive was not an option. Second to that basic need are the people in my life. I said in my shout out yesterday that My life would be all the more lost without these people. I honestly could not count the number of people who cared. And, there really are no words to extend gratitude - especially to those who went unacknowledged and cared none the less. It is not at all an easy task to help those of us who are chronically battling these disorders.  I know that I can be a stubborn bitch, mean and snarly. I can be way way over dramatic and then lose sight of the big picture. I have been over the top and close to catatonic. I have felt unworthy of help, love or hope, and so pushed people away.  But you my friends, have stood by none the less. I am not what I would consider a popular person. I do however, have a selection of angelic people who have saved me time and time again.

Another massive shout out to those who cared for my daughter. Everybody from her daycare and her teachers and the boys and girls club. Everybody who has taken her into their hearts and homes. I have been adamant and consistent about ensuring she has always felt loved, no matter how far gone I am. You all have given my little girl a fair chance in life and together we have raised and really great kid! She has take in all of your values and is becoming a young lady who is coming into her own beautifully. Your love for her has saved her time and time again as well.

asking for your help was tough, needing your help was tougher, but receiving your help has been a grace.

THANK YOU. (saying thank you is easy).

A Shout out to the ones who Love!!

I received a long letter this morning that reminded me that there are people silently sitting by, Loving and Cherishing those who suffer Mental Health issues. These are the Parents, Sisters, Brothers, Aunts and Uncles. The friends that stand by and visit, The people who help to pick up the pieces. The Nurses and Doctors and Social Workers who have dedicated their lives and careers to care for those of us who cannot always care for ourselves. I am forever and truly grateful. There really are now words to express how my life would have turned out with out them. I am sure it would have become nothing good. I have felt like I have lost everything, every dream stolen by a mind that could never function quite right. The reality is though that I could have lost so much more with out these people.

Here is a portion of that letter.
But respecting what you are doing so well in your blog, I want to add: The simple truth is that those suffering with a mental illness are not the only ones that suffer. One in four Canadians is affected by Mental Health issues, for the most part these numbers come from depression, where a large number of people are afflicted at some point in their lives. But the reality is that for every person affected by a mental health issue there are 10 people also affected. The costs to families and loved ones as they try to deal with this issue, ripples like dominoes, the costs to families, the costs to the health care system, the costs to society are tenfold. And yet there is more money spent on AIDS research then there is on Mental Health, do not get me wrong, I think there should be money spent on AIDS research, but if AIDS affects one in ten, and Mental Health affects one in four Canadians, then there should be a proportionate amount spend on Mental Health issues. Like AIDS, the only way to do this it to stop the stigma.

Mental Illness and Addiction appears to be such a selfish disease, perhaps it is. Perhaps it is the selfishness that keeps that small part of us that is just rational enough to remember we are human and that we hurt. It becomes very, very easy to forget or to not ever realise that there are people around us who care. We do not have to commit suicide to see that no one would care enough to show up to our funeral. We don't have to hide ourselves away out of fear of "being seen like this". WE ARE LOVED. And those who love us DO stand by and often watch helplessly while we battle the madness and self hatred.

There is hope, there is always hope.
I choose to write this blog out of love and compassion for those who feel lost, judged, and lonely. Please remember that You Are Never Alone in this fight for life.

XOXOXO

High on Pets

We don't need anymore pets already!!! OMG, my daughter is hooked on pets. How could this have happened? Suddenly my house is full of critters. 8 Rats, 1Dog, 1 Kitten, and 1 Turtle back in Vic waiting to be moved to us. Now, she want 2 Guppies! Is there no end? Well ya, I know I can say no, I can put my foot down and even maybe get rid of said pets. But you know what? I love them. I feel the therapy of loving animals. It breaks my heart how cute they are. I have missed it for many years. I grew up with animals in my house. They were family and I can say that they have contributed to the happy times in my life. I do admit that love lying on the floor and have my rats scurry all over me, have them sniff in my ear or tuck themselves in my armpit. Well off to the pet store to get guppies.

Who's fault is it anyway?

Be warned to those close to me, there are truthes in this blog that have never been spoken.

I don't know exactly when I began to show signs of Mental Illness (I'm sure my mother does but still wont tell me because she feels that her love is stronger than my illness - for which I have much gratitude). I suspect, however, that my parents divorce was, most certainly, a catalyst for anything that may have been hiding under the surface to explode into my existence and into every decision I made there after.
 I began to show real signs of distress and difficulty managing my moods when I was about 12. this is when my life turned inside out and everything I knew to be real, crumbled around me. I sat stunned and bewildered alone in my bedroom, I became my only best friend for years to come.

I was not diagnosed with bipolar until I was about 23, So, I lived with Mental Illness for over a decade and went completely untreated.(except that my parents desperately kept trying to convince me to go to counselling, I of course hated every second of it and refused to participate most of the time).

Most people who suffer from bouts of depression are living in pain or anger over something (death, loss, illness) where these emotions are totally approiate to be with. Those emotions are "real" there is a valid, normal, solid reason for them. Bipolar is not the average mood disorder. It is a psychoaffective disorder that really often makes no sense, follows no rules and can be totally unpridictable. Bipolar resembles so much like the roller coaster of adolescents that very few doctors would diagnose a teenager with such a pervasive ailment. This means that as a youth living with undiagnosed and untreated bipolar, I managed really hurt a lot of people. I was out of control most of the time. I began to self medicate at 14 and boy oh boy did I ever love being blasted. This is also when I came out of my isolation and began to socialise. Under the influence of intoxicants I could stay in a mania for days and days, rarely sleeping. I would draw, paint, and write over night, school during the day and party all other times.  I went to all extremes in life in order to feel anything other than crazy. by the time I was 16 I had been pregnant and had an abortion, I was cutting myself and starving myself. I had been date raped, and had sex with too many guys for me to say (highly sexualised behaviour is a symptom)
 I was using booze and drugs when ever I could. I stole large amounts of money, or sold myself, to pay for these habits.(self medicating is very common). The only thing I could count on was that eventually there would be a depression. (My best friends mother knew by the sound of my voice what kind of day I was having). I slept, cried, and hid away from the world. I would paint darkness, I would write darkness and I would succom to darkness. I hated my life, I would drown my senses with meloncholy music to the point of driving my mother up the wall. Now, the substances were used for sleep aid. I discovered cold medcine and peach shnaps along with gravol and hash could numb all the pain that living with myself entailed. There was no specific source of destitution, I could find an excuse most of the time so "it" could make sense, but truth be told....It just hapend. I was too young, and with no diagnosis there was no help for me to know what was really going on, that I was ill, not bad.

 Over the course of my life I commited a large number of fuck ups, nothing involving the law thankfully. I took pride in my ability to sting people who attempted battle with me. I was amased at how it became so simple to use people for selfish purposes. My life became about anger and anyone who got in the way became victims of it. I truely thought I was in control of this anger, I didn't know how huge it really was at the time. I had no true friends at the time because I had alienated them all.  I had driven so many people away from me that I felt worthless and undeserving of a good life.

Now I ask, who's fault was all this, this life that has led me to a lifetime of addiction and insanity. Some say I made my own choices, but really I have to know, had I not been ill, lacking in judgment and impulse control, would I have made the same choices? Would I have become an addict if I had no reason to self medicate? Would I have hurt as many people if my manias didn't make me feel so self rightious and my depressons so angry? So much of my life is like a textbook case. For a person with Bipolar, Sexualised behaviour is normal, so is anger and self importance, as well and worthlessness and utter shame. Judgment is deeply impared during extreme highs and lows, So how do I accept responsibility when mental illness played a larger role in my life than my rationality. Not that I don't feel shame and regret, but how much of that shame do I need to carry? Once I was diagnosed, sure, it most certainly becomes my responsibility to care for myself and my own well being - even if that means allowing others to care for me when I cant. But even with the best securities put in place, it often is not enough. When in a manic state, I want nothing to do with coming down. I want to push it to the end because I get so much done. When in a depressive state, I can barely stand up to get out of bed let alone drag myself to the doctor or hospital. So how do I reconsile these differences. How do I find a ballance to what are my choices and what are choices based on being ill? I have spoken to a lot of people over time and no one can give a difinitive answer, So for now its up for debate.

A Little Obessive Are We?

My life is an endless series of notes. Notes to myself, Notes to do, notes to remember, notes of wants versus needs. If I lose these notes, I panic and stress because "things will not go the way I want it to".

I have a fantasy that the entire house, my schedule, my shopping is, you know, Done. Just like those pictures in house and home magazine. Every object in its place, Every colour scheme matching and things that have no "home" are removed or discarded. Every line in place, every book meticulously organised and displayed to attract someones eyes Everything clean and ready to make a good impression. All the ideal amount of food and every box in storage, sorted,  repacked, labeled and ready to sit in another basement for yet another several years.

And so I write notes, to remind me of what I need to get done in so as to live in a perfectly organised environment. Many of said notes are scattered across many books and scraps of paper written and stored in no particular order. The ideas I try to save get harder to look for among hundreds of sheets of paper with crossed out to do lists. I don't even know if I will ever see this note again (clearly I did). Out it comes none the less. Do I really have to focus on making the spare room blue with a sunny day at the beach atmosphere - (Witch is really more of a den where we watch movies or play games and hang out with the rats.) Do I consider ever that the dishes need doing or that the toilet needs cleaning? NO, certainly not with as much focus as to write myself a letter to remind me that the toilet stinks.

Are You Mental!!

People with mental illness's as a disability are viewed differently than those who have physical disabilities. Not the mention the fact that anything physical can be observed where as usually only silence comes from those who are suffering inside themselves.

Those people who are mentally ill tend to be depicted as acting strange or not complying to society's expectations. This is one of the many factors that determine what kind of judgments are placed on people who battle with the invisible devil.

There is quite often empathy and compassion for those who carry physical disorders. On the other hand most people don't stop to consider how painful it is to be made to feel that "this is all in their head" or "so and so just did that to get attention". Now the illness must be fought on two fronts. The agony they live with moment by moment; and business of proving true illness to a world that still believes that crazy people need to be locked up.  When a depressed or anxious person feels like they cannot talk to anyone they fall deeper and deeper, faster and faster. The third front is that so much shame attached to these disorders that people who suffer with them take on that shame as personal cross to bare and are forced to "just suck it up" And never tell anyone. When we do tell someone Often what happens is we are misdiagnosed and sometimes ignored, There are many doctors who will just push pills and never listen to a word you say. Psychiatrists who work for free(or very little) are a dying breed.

Anger is viewed as nonsense or dramatised. Sadness is viewed as wasteful and none productive. Addiction is viewed as immoral and corrupt. Overall, the fact that our body's are doing just fine, imposes people to think that Mental illness can be cured. All to often people are confused about why Shela doesn't get out more and socialise or why in gods name, why she would hurt herself, or why can Freddy does not just quit, just change, just give it up, just stop feeling sorry for himself.

Stigma Makes people silent. And Silence makes mental illness fatal! Yup, you heard it. And no I am not exaggerating in the least. When a depressed or anxious person feels like they cannot talk to anyone they fall deeper and deeper, faster and faster. The shame, the desire to be believed, dredging sadness, It whithers a person to nothing. The moment that a suicidal person feels profoundly and inescapably alone, is the moment that life has no appeal.

This may sound a little biter, It's not. These are the kind of thoughts that race through me every time I ponder about why stigma against mental illness so hard. Why are lives still being lost, ruined, and forgotten?

That is my thought for the day.
Stop the silence. Speak up, speak out.
Take Pride in your Great Mind!




 

Book

I am presently reading a book  that has me feeling that I am reading my own brain. There have been times of weeping and times of confusing. I begin to remember things, or maybe they are dreams. I don't know it's a foggy type of memory.

A recent passage I read....

I feel frustrated now when I hear people referring to suicide as a self-centered act: of course it is. Nobody would commit if the pain of being inside herself, the agony of the sleepless tortured hours spent watching the world get smaller and uglier, were bearable or could be relieved by other people telling her how they wanted her to feel.  A depressed person is selfish because her self, the very core of who she is will not leave her alone, and she can no more stop thinking about this self and how to escape it then a prisoner held captive by a sadistic serial killer can forget about the person who comes in to torture her every day. Her body is brutalized by the mind. I hurts to breathe, sleep, eat, walk, think. The gross maneuvering of her limbs are so overwhelming, so wearying, that the fine muscle movements or quickness of wit necessary to write , to actually say something, are completely out of the question


Stacy Pershall
Loud in the House of Myself - memoir of a strange girl
pgs. 134-135


I have completely lost count how many times I have been down this road, crawled through this path. For now I am managing rather well. I have to tell you though that I am awfully aware of that devil on my shoulder. I am older now and wiser and have been through too much therapy, so I cant say that I am affraid of that monster inside me. I simply have to remain prepared.I have a care plan in place so that doctors and nurses know where I stand in my own health care needs and most of all they will have my desires regarding my child. Talk to your local CMHA(Canadian Mental Health Association). To help you find resources and safe places. You can also contact either your local crissis line or try the front few pages of the phone book for crissis information lines. The Suicide distress line is 1-800-SUICIDE. 1-800-784-2433  The help line for children is 310-1234. And the kids help l 1phone is.1-800-668-6868

When it gets too hard, thats ok, there is no shame in asking for help. In our society we have the belief that we are supposed to handle all of our affairs independently. This is just not the case, Human beings are not designed to be alone, we live in communities for a reason. And It can be astounding what people will do for each other, Ask and you shall recieve.

Isolation

I have been isolating for the last few days, not so good. I have managed to get some of the house work done but have been unable to get myself to go outside. I have been feeling frightened to talk to anyone. I feel like all my words would come out wrong or jumbled and that no one would be able to understand me. So, I stay in my mind and talk to myself. I have been reading and journaling and writing to do lists. Money is really tight this month and will be for a while, I'm still paying for the move and My daughter is eating enough to fill up 5 kids! I have been tempted to go buy booze just to cope, but I know for sure that such and act would make it all worse and drag me down. None the less, coping with cravings is hard to do. Today I am going to get out and go shop for food with Tia. If I can do just one thing today, then I can find something pleasant to do that will help me to recover from going out of my my house. so ta ta for now boys and girls.

some time

hey folks, blog to come... I have has some busy day's and need to chill with my body and recharge my brain.   Thanks to you who come and check this blog out. Remember to spread the word that mental illness is not equal to crazy, and that we are most often not people to fear.

Sleep well my friends

Hello,  Today is one of the low days. It has been a day of rest and music and books. When I am unrested, my life can crumble in around me. I can either get miserably depressed or, more likely, end up hypo manic. I have discovered over the last several years how critical sleep is for healing and happiness. I know that I need at least 8hrs of sleep a night, no short cuts. I am at my best if I get around 9-10hrs a night. With this amount of sleep, i am able to conquer my anxiety and will be less likely to have panic attacks about getting out of the house. If I get under 7hrs/night I am totally useless for the day, It becomes a battle to just get out of bed let alone my house. So, I do things like listen to music, read books, watch TV/movies, or what ever else I can do while resting in the safety of my home. I have begun to use these low days to get emails done, paper work filed or finished, phone calls to catch up on...etc. By activating my brain a little, I am able to feel like the day is not a total waste. I can stay home and effectively(meaning no drugs, no self harm, no isolating in bed) manage my anxiety and feel like I am being productive. Those chores likely wouldn't get done if I didn't do them during down time.
When it comes to anxiety, panic and agoraphobia the only way for me to plow through it is to allow myself to have guilt free days of self care. Self care is not selfish, It is self first. Once I have done all I can to care for my emotional, physical and spiritual needs, then it is time to get back out and face the world.

Am I a Sociopath?

When I was first diagnosed with borderline personality disorder I was in shock and confused. I thought Personality disorder?? does this mean I am defective, dangerous or deficient?? All I have ever heard about personality disorders was that "those people" are psychos. "Those people" were hopelessly incurable and "those people" are a threat to society. "Those people" are usually locked up on wards for the criminally insane. So what does this mean for me? Well I am not locked up (anymore), no one is dead (not even me), and I am perfectly functional (most of the time).
A personality disorder diagnosis can often do a lot more damage than even a fraction of good. The words personality disorder become haunting and linger around like a dense fog.  A person who is already in distress can easily become discouraged with the seemingly permanent defect of character. The time between my diagnosis and when I finally began treatment was about 6 years. It wasn't that I was in denial. I was not ready to take on a new diagnosis that made me sound even more (what I believed to be) loony than I already was. Instead, I became a drug addict.
What I eventually learned was that Personality disorder is not really aptly named. Some theorists believe that the problem is not about a personality but rather it is a problem with emotional regulation.

      "The Borderline Personality Disorder provides an example of the affective pattern of experiencing both emotional extremes; from highly intense and dys-regulated emotions to the extreme opposite-- feelings of numbness and detachment. Persons with Borderline Personality Disorder tend to be highly sensitive and react with great emotional intensity. They have powerful feelings in the context of interpersonal relationships particularly when difficulties and conflict cause them to feel intensely anxious, angry, or down. During interpersonal conflicts they become easily overwhelmed with the intensity of their emotions, and may have a hard time calming down once they are upset. At other times, people with Borderline Personality Disorder can rapidly shift to the polar opposite and suddenly feel completely disconnected, numb, empty, and detached. Many people with Borderline Personality Disorder end up injuring or harming themselves in reaction to this emptiness and the accompanying feelings of numbness. Other people tend to react with fear or anger to their rapidly shifting emotional states and their self-injurious behavior. This only serves to escalate interpersonal conflict. Therefore, interpersonal relationship difficulties and conflicts are a common consequence of the intense, rapidly fluctuating emotions associated with this disorder"
Simone Hoermann, Ph.D., Corinne E. Zupanick, Psy.D. & Mark Dombeck,


OK, great!! I am not a psycho. and I can even get better. Even though borderline has left its scars on me, I did walk out of it alive and well. In fact, I began to feel better than I could ever remember. Not that it was easy. I worked very, very hard in therapy. I practiced skill after skill. And I allowed myself to look inward and brave facing my pain and anger. I fought and fought to let go of my impulsive behaviours. The cutting stopped and I got off the substances that were draining my ability to think. Although treatable, I believe it is a prevalent disorder that requires extra vigilance and much attention to the small details in my life and thrive on mindfulness. I will always have big and fluctuating emotions, and it will always be an inner battle to calm myself.  And best of all I will always be a sensitive person! In taking time to learn about myself, growing within my new parameters, and actually love myself, I figured out that I am not alone, and that Yes, I Am OK.

Today is the first day of the rest of my life.

Every day that I wake up I tell myself that I have a chance to live the rest of my life from this moment on. I say this even though I do not know what day it is. I dream vivid lucid dreams. Every night I live wonderfully wild, terribly terrifying, and beautifully constructed lives that live so deep within my consciousness that by the time the next day arrives, I often cannot remember what day I am waking up to and usually have difficulty piecing together previous days. I used to meticulously keep track of everything I did and felt from day to day, then week to week. I created an elaborate chart that recorded my daily emotions, my daily activities, urges, sleep patterns, moods, interactions and any thing else that could help me remember my waking life. I was trying to learn the art of mindfulness as a skill to help me shape my illness, all the while staying obsessed about trying to keep the past in records and calculations. I tried to take those calculations and apply them to my future choices. I wanted to make more logical, less emotional pathways towards a better life, a life where I could remember the past and know what day it was.  Now, well the dreams are still outrageous and I still cannot remember what day it is for a bit after I open my eyes. I do remember though that every day that I open my eyes is a good start, and that every good start is a fresh start, and that every fresh start is an opportunity to let go of the past. Letting go is the sole of mindfulness and letting go through mindfulness is very hard to do (and even harder to maintain). Mindfulness is a practice. Mindfulness is a way of living and a way of being. Mindfulness is about slowing down and taking note of the moment. Practicing mindfulness is to practice letting time stand still from one second to the next. Every day I wake up and tell myself that today is a fresh new day with fresh new possibilities and that, for this second, I do not need to know what day it is, all I need to know is all around me hidden in the sights, sounds, and scents that surround me.