I’ve got a few prepared blogs
ready to go, and I should definitely be using one today as I spent yesterday at
Mercy hospital puking my guts out. However,
I also had a special topic to post about today, as it is World Mental Health
Day, and while my physical health is kicking my butt I will try to expound on
the other side of wellness.
I started my journey with mental
illness at a young age, but wasn’t diagnosed with anything until I was nineteen. Then they decided that I was Bipolar and loaded
me up with medications. Never mind that
I was NOT Bipolar, and did NOT need those meds.
I became a zombie. Everything somehow
got worse instead of better, and I lost whole chunks of time from being so heavily
medicated. Eventually, my mother got me
to a clinic where a doctor told me I did not have Bipolar Disorder, and gave me
one pill. One little miracle pill that
lasted me very well for a very long time, until my insurance pulled it out from
under me. I went on its sister drug,
Celexa, and yes, I do have a couple of backup singers now, but it is nowhere
near the fourteen pill a day diet I used to be on.
My diagnoses have changed many
times as well. Now I am diagnosed with
Major Depressive Disorder, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Severe Anxiety,
Trichotillomania, and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. These feel the most accurate, I must say, and
are much better than calling it all Bipolar and moving along. It took the time and energy of many medical professionals
to figure out what was really going on with me, and I am forever grateful to
them.
I tell you these things in the
same way I talk about diabetes or gastroparesis, because to me they are no
different. Yes, my pancreas is sick and
therefore I have diabetes. Well, my
brain is also sick and therefore I have depression. I do not believe in the stigma of mental
health, so I treat its discussion no differently than that of my physical
health. Sometimes this really surprises
people. There have been many moments
when I have received messages from both friends and strangers telling me that
they are proud of what I have done, just talking about mental health. I don’t know that it’s something to feel
proud about, because it’s just a piece of myself that I express to the world, just
like the other pieces. I’ve had people
write me with “me too.” This is when
they realize that they have the same condition, but couldn’t put a name to
it. Or when they’ve been diagnosed as
well, but afraid to tell anyone. These little
messages make me feel special, because my words on mental health are breaking a
stigma for them.
It’s the stigma that is the worst
bit, in my opinion. It’s the fear that
we have, that someone else might think we’re wrong in some way. We’re scared of the reactions of other
people, and that forces mental illness into hiding. It shouldn’t be hiding. It should be worn loud and proud. If you have a mental illness, you battle with
that monster daily, and no one sees it.
You fight wars against your demons constantly, even when you’re wearing
a smile on your face. You know pain in a
sense where physical pain would almost be a relief. And still, we hide this debilitating bastard
behind so many veils of self-doubt that we become another person, almost. There’s the person you present to the world,
and the person you are on the inside. I
say no. I refuse to be two people,
living half my life in shadow. I would
rather throw it in your face and if you don’t like it, the problem lies with
your own fears and neuroses. Mental illness
is not contagious. In my experience, it
really only scares those that already have it, and are doing nothing to help
themselves. So, shout it out! Scare those people into getting help. Scare the people who think mental illness isn’t
real-be their proof! Stop letting stigma
hold you back. Other people do not
dictate the course of your healing, you do.
Talk about it. Laugh about
it. Just don’t let others tell you your
experience. As my father would say, “Fuck
’em if they can’t take a joke.”
So, on World Mental Health Day, I
will be taking care of my physical health, by lying on the sofa and watching
Parks and Rec and drinking a smoothie. It’s
not what I had planned, but it’s what needs to be done, so that my mental
health can realign as well. The two are
very connected for me. When I’m in the hospital
I become instantly depressed, and it takes time for that feeling to fade away. So today, I will do all I can to make myself
feel better, inside and out. I will also,
as always, continue my fight against the stigma of mental illness and tell you,
my reader, that if you ever need an ally in this battle, you have one right
here.
Stay safe, stay sane, and have a
good Thursday.
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