I occasionally receive private emails telling me that something I wrote really hit home for someone. Suddenly they don’t feel as alone. And bingo, there’s my purpose. Because, sure, this blog isn’t for everyone. There are millions of sites out there with more useful information, more grains of wisdom, more skillful wording than my worn out brain can articulate. But sometimes someone gets me, and I get them, and that is a beautiful opportunity I don’t want to miss out on. Plus, it’s really great to have a place to vent about stuff.
A lot has happened since I first received my diagnosis in 2006. I got worse, I got better, I got worse again. Over and over and over again. Right now I am yo-yoing from here to there and back at an alarming speed, but that’s just par for the course. I don’t know if there will ever be a working combo when it comes to meds. I don’t know if I will ever reach a point where I feel well and recovered more than 10% of the time. But I sure do hope I keep the fight up. And I hope you all will too.
Read the post in its entirety! Visit Bipolarly: Blog for Mental Health 2014.
My Youth Ministry course had a guest speaker. Rev. Gary Nelson, a pastor, Christian Counselor and author sat at the front of the class. His goal: To give us an understanding of depression in order to prepare us for the common challenge facing us while working with youth.
The man began to share with us the experience of living with his son during his fierce battle with depression. I became paralyzed with an overwhelming mixture of fear and confusion. Except for a few mentions of his son’s name, and a few things here and there… He was describing… Me.
Read the post in its entirety! Visit A Relentless Hope | Trials of Paul.
Besides depression, I nearly got myself into eating disorder. I’ve also experienced some panic attacks and some other symptoms of anxiety, even now. . .
I sincerely hope that people wouldn’t judge me just because I’m depressed, just because I used to self-harm, but I guess that couldn’t be helped. I just hope that people would be more understanding and not just think that ‘only the mentally weak would get themselves into mental health’. That’s not true because I’ve always considered myself as one strong person until depression struck :p
Read the post in it’s entirety! Visit Blog for Mental Health 2014 | TheVeRa’s Little Space.
Trigger Warning: Suicide
With the real world unable to provide me with any therapeutic modality, I turned to the virtual world. I’d been blogging since 2009, but always felt more comfortable discussing physical rather than mental/emotional pain. Private and public writing became my therapy. A potential diagnosis of bipolar 2 disorder (never confirmed, assessed or evaluated) gave me a self-forgiveness lens to look back at what I thought were moral and judgmental lapses, self-inducted failures and lost of dreams, and inherited and acquired character flaws, and separate me from my mental illness. These were symptoms, not symbols.
My blog posts are often as bleak and dark as my mindscape can be. My fiction, prose and poetry show how fragile and damaged I can feel. My lack of measurable progress, and my many relapses don’t make for enjoyable, comfortable, or pleasant reading. But, by sharing some of demons that haunt me, by opening up, by forcing thoughts out of my head and on to the computer screen, I’m trying recover; to gain back what I’ve lost.
Read the post in its entirety! Visit blog for mental health project 2014 | Phylor’s Blog.
When I was 13, I was put in a psychiatric hospital, where I had my first exposure to very real, very intense mental illness. I remember thinking that everyone there was nuts. I didn’t understand them. I didn’t want to. I stayed distant from everyone because I wanted nothing to do with crazy people. The idea of being surrounded by people “like them” was terrifying. Just a few months prior to this, Isaiah had told me that he wanted to die for the first time. I didn’t know how to react or how to help. I felt useless. I knew what it was like to want to die, but I didn’t know how to express that to Isaiah. Somehow, in my mind, I separated Isaiah from the kids in the hospital. I knew Isaiah. He was “normal”, he was on The Outside. It was different.
A few months after my discharge, I found myself in that hospital again. I honestly don’t remember much of that hospitalization. I think I’m trying to repress it (or I just have a really shitty memory). Regardless, I do remember the outpatient program that I went to after my hospitalization. That’s when I met a couple people that remain very important parts of my past and present. That’s when I realized that people in hospitals weren’t just random crazies that I would never be able to identify with. They were kids like me. The primary catalyst in this epiphany was a boy from my school named Dakota. I had only talked to him once or twice before the day he walked into the day hospital waiting room. He was the first person from The Outside that I had ever seen in one of the therapeutic settings, and that’s all it really took for me to realize that even “normal” people needed help sometimes.
Read the post in its entirety! Visit Blog for Mental Health 2014 – From the Outside | Accept The Bullshit.