I’ll be honest, I really don’t like opening up or talking about my struggles or making myself feel vulnerable. This is a common trait in people who suffer from mental health issues who tend to isolate themselves. Both my therapist and I agree that blogging about my problems here will help me as much as it might help someone else who might read my posts. So, here I am taking the pledge for the “Blog for Mental Health 2014″ project . . .
Read the post in its entirety! Visit Blog for Mental Health 2014 – My Pledge | deadlikemeblog.
I am new to this whole world of DID. . . I am new to PTSD also, but at least with it, some of my past actions and reactions are explained, and as irrational as the PTSD mind can get you still see the how and the why and understand. With DID, you feel crazy, I can’t speak for others, but I do, because I do not understand it.
What are my goals? I am working to become a well and whole person. I have come to realize it is a long and difficult journey, not for the weak. I began blogging to help myself, but also to help others in the same or similar situations. I invite you to come along with me on my journey to wholeness. Some days you will laugh. Others you might cry. Some days I will not blog about my mental health at all, normal days are wonderful gifts, and I cherish them. Together we will reclaim my Narnia and yours.
Read the post in its entirety! Visit Blog For Mental Health 2014 | Reclaiming My Narnia.
I felt tense every minute of the day, my shoulders and chest ached, and my heart raced most of the time. My chest burnt from severe acid reflux and I would break out in welts/hives along my arms. At night I would lie awake convinced I would not wake to see the morning, unable to sleep as negative thoughts filled my head and my muscles remained stiff and sore. I had progressed to not only being scared of dying from a heart attack, but also fatal illness, particularly meningococcal/meningitis; as cases of people dying from the virus flooded the news on a regular basis. Eventually, my negative thoughts coupled with the constant chest pain and palpitations resulted in me being of the belief that I too was going to die from a massive cardiac arrest, or had the early symptoms of meningococcal; (somatoform disorder) and send me into full blown panic attacks. My heart rate would increase even more and I would hyperventatate, overcompensating as I thought I was not breathing. Throughout these attacks all I could do was proclaim “Im having a heart attack, Oh my god! Call an ambulance”, to which my partner would respond; if you were having a heart attack you would be dead by now” and “No your not your just being silly”. While these responses from my loved one were accurate, it only served to make me become defensive and even more agitated at his perceived insensitivity to my ‘plight’.
Read the rest of the story by visiting What is wrong with me? | Fragments of my thoughts.
What we are learning every day benefits the patient diagnosed tomorrow. Life is getting better, and we are understanding the brain more and more.
We sit silent for a moment. I wince at the memory of that pain, the depth of suffering I endured. I mourn those years of my life, that darkness I cannot understand or place or resolve. In the same breath, I stun at my recovery. I will say my whole life I don’t know how I’m still here. We discuss positive predictors, and I guess I had a few: a husband who stayed, faith, success before becoming ill, a kick-ass work ethic, an ability to see myself in perspective.
But I know it comes down to one: love.
Read the post in its entirety! Visit Bipolar Mama: I Can’t be the Only One | Red Vine Spirituality.
I learned compassion. That was supposed to apply to me too, but I have not quite got the hang of that yet. Further updates as events warrant. I learned that not only do I have a voice, but I really want to use it. I learned how to be kind. Again, not so much to myself, but I have to leave some startling growth spurts for my 40′s, right?
I also learned how incredibly cruel ignorance is, and how ignorant people really are. I learned what it is like to be marginalized and humiliated for something that is beyond your control. I learned how privileged I am to be a white, well-educated woman, from the right kind of family, when I interact with the mental health system. I learned how dangerous it is to be part of a minority against whom it is still socially acceptable to discriminate.
Read the post in its entirety! Visit Blog for Mental Health 2014 Project, or, yes, I made it to the kitchen today. | From Bloor Street.