You had better have a sense of humor and a need for adventure and be immune to criticism when raising an impulsive child who is later diagnosed as bi-polar.
Most soon to be parents usually have the best intentions of being the “best parents on earth” until they are faced with reality of having a child who doesn’t cry but screams. Well meaning friends and family tell her to hold the child more or that she is spoiling the child, or the child needs solid food while Dr. Spock is saying you should let the child cry, and the pediatrician is telling you to definitely not feed the child solid food or he will become allergic. So during the first three months o f the child’s life the mother is a “Basket case.”
As the child develops he is very quick at crawling and walking, but instead of talking he screams when he wants something. The mother doesn’t know she should encourage the child to use his words. She learns this many years later.
“Life gets better once you accept your mental illness and understand it’s ok….with the right medication we can live pretty damn normal lifes
own it…educate yourself …and help others understand it”
I dont remember when i realized i wasn’t completely present most of the the time when participating in my own life. i had learned to float above the normal plane of reality whenever things got uncomfortable by dissociating as a result of severe childhood sexual abuse. i had an illness called dissociative identity disorder which piggy-backed my post traumatic stress disorder. unfortunately it was not diagnosed until my late twenties and there is practically no avalialiable treatment. Society and the mental health profession would rather pretend it didnt exist. the condition is a lot like multiple personality disorder. i myself, have seven personalities that have emerged over the years to deal with various emotions suppressed by the abuse, most prevalent, anger and sadness and shame. in the beginning these personalities controlled me, coming out whenever they pleased, causing car accidents for example and much other mayhem. i wanted help, but there was none to be found. i was institutionilized plenty, but their idea of treatment was sedation….especially in the late seventies and eighties. in the nineties it was isolation. Thank God I found a therapist, Lynn Dove, in ct who used a hospital in Washington DC that specialized in my illness. today i have integrated my system and live a virtually symtom free life. i was a lucky one. Treatment is few and far in between.we need to start educating and providing treatment for this disorder. it is out there and becoming even more prevelant as our veterans return from war. please help me spread the word.
I’ve battled with anxiety for as long as I can remember. I received a formal diagnosis of GAD with panic episodes (Generalized Anxiety Disorder) at the age of 8 and was placed on a medication which is now no longer approved for use in children. I had a great childhood however, I didn’t “enjoy” it as most kids would. I constantly worried about absolutely anything and everything. I didn’t want to go to school on the bus because I was scared that the bus driver drove too fast & would crash. I didn’t want my dad to go to work because I knew he worked near the port and I was afraid he was going to fall in the water. I didn’t want to leave my mom home alone just incase something happened to her. Those are just a few thoughts I dealt with as a child. While growing up, I now realize I also struggled with another mental health condition - the specific phobia “emetophobia,” which went untreated until recently. Emetophobia is one of the most common phobias however, it is the least talked about due to the unrelenting stigma related to it.
I care deeply about the wellness of people’s lives and how the act of simply talking and truly caring about someone can potentially save other’s lives.
My first real art lesson was when my father taught me how draw a rose using basic shapes and shading. I don’t exactly remember my dad when I was little except that he was a really jolly fellow and as round as Santa. But today I’m really glad that I got my creativity and corny humor from him. My father had always prompted me to be creative and that was one of the greatest gifts he had left me with.
When I was in 6th grade and only 11 years old he passed away all too suddenly. I had arrive at the hospital the day he died from kidney problems and there were no last “I love yous” or “I’m proud of you.” I wanted to be strong, I wanted straight A’s and I wanted to do it all for my dad. This was my way of thinking that temporarily helped me to survive my 3 years in middle school. But the years of denial and the bottling in of my emotions caught up to me and strangled my health. I needed help but I wasn’t conditioned to ask for anything. In my graduating year in 8th grade I wasn’t only struggling with delayed grieving of my father but I was also having extreme difficulty making speeches as the student body president and preparing for the 8th grade oral presentation all at once.
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