I have been trying to get my son, Patrick, social security. He is schizoaffective. Well, he is dual diagnosed. #2 is substance abuse. I just received “the denial” in the mail from the administration. They refused him because the said he abuses drugs and that when he stops using he’ll recover. Can you believe that! He unfortunately starting using before I knew he had mental illness or anyone else in the family knew. I thought I just had this horrible drug addicted rebellious kid on my hands. He always had problems since he was very young but I just didn’t know. It wasn’t until he started having conversations with himself where family members could see that we started looking on the Internet about what that means. He started hearing voices too. It’s been an uphill battle every since. He does not refuse phych meds anymore, but I cannot keep him off street drugs because he’s a substance abuse addict. His #1 diagnosis is schizoaffective. My brother’s son has recently been diagnosed too. THANK YOU NAMI FOR HELPING ME ! I wouldn’t have been able to go through all this(understanding mental illness) without you. But now that I do understand I am really sad that other people don’t!
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Too Deep in What is Only Shallow Water
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.
Jamie’ Story
My name is Jamie. i have paranoid schizophrenia, and have had it since I was nine. It’s interesting to note that I have it - it does not have me. In the years since I was diagnosed, I have since gotten on medication and now have a full and productive life. I became a journalist in elementary school, and am now editor of my own online newspaper that is read all over the world. I’m also an Eagle Scout, a former Brotherhood member of the Order of the Arrow, 2001 National Scout Jamboree staff member, and have met and interviewed people. I have also covered a former president of the United States. I have also been a syndicated columnist, and featured in several papers in Texas.
If I can send one message to people, it is that, if one day you are diagnosed with a mental illness, seek treatment early and stay the course, including taking your medication. Don’t be afraid to branch out and try new things. Give yourself a chance and don’t give up just because something seems difficult. In fact, my mom often encouraged me to try new, positive experiences that made me feel a part of the world. She taught me to be smart and think for myself. When faced with a roadblock, she encouraged me to find the solution and to be a positive influence on others, disabled and normal.
The truth is that the illness is not the end of the world. Don’t give up. Find your talent and run with it. Give yourself a chance, and make the most of each and every opportunity to make a positive difference in the world. This challenge I embraced. It is a challenge I hope those reading this story will embrace. Thanks. Jamie.
I Miss My Brother
My brother, Russ, was diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder, but never properly treated. 18 years ago, in September, while at an inpatient hospital, he died in a car accident. We thought he was safe in an in-patient psychiatric unit. For reasons unexplained, they took him outside to smoke. Understandably, while psychotic, he made a bad choice and walked away from the hospital. Then he got into a running vehicle left alone (he probably thought it was a sign) and then drove away. After getting onto the highway he died smashing into oncoming traffic. My father was on his way to see his son on his birthday and he passed the accident. He thought his son was safely cared for at the hospital, but, this was not the case. Our family sued this hospital and again, inexplicably, lost the case. What are families to do when their best efforts to get a loved one into safe care against all odds (due to poor insight of the ill persons and laws protecting their individual rights to mess themselves up) go wrong. It’s tough to love someone who struggles with mental illness. It’s tough to be someone who struggles with mental illness. Please hang tough, someone loves you. If you don’t know anyone who does now trust that someone will when you have had the benefit of good care and some time to stabilize. You are a good person and you are worth the effort. Stick around. Help care providers understand what you need.
December 27, 2013…Two days after Christmas. Alone. I remember seeing two lights, thinking I was laying on Railroad tracks and going to die. I remember hearing someone yell my name, “PAMELA”. What was happening? Someone help! Around the 31st of December my oldest son came to see me… In Jail!!! What happened? All I can remember is someone (maybe him) say, “You have five (yes, 5) Attempted Murder charges”. WHAT??? Oh my God!! All I could think was “who did I kill?” Where was my life? What happened? Where was my husband?
I am BPI, PTSD, OCD with severe anxiety. Married 33 years with two grown son’s. One is an U.S. Marshall. I had my first felony charge in 1995. Never have had a speeding ticket, parking, etc….do not do any illegal drugs, no smoking, etc…so, why was I in jail? My first court appearance was within two weeks. I would be let go then. I found I didn’t kill anyone, but, this was serious.
From the standpoint of the Officers report and my son: I began drinking. My husband had been flown oversea’s (he is a Military Contractor). He left December 01, 2013. Why was I becoming so hysterical? He had been gone before. But this time was different. For some reason approximately three weeks before he left I began asking him (then begging him) not to leave me. I didn’t know why. Just an iry feeling. So, having my Christmas alone was O.K….well, turns out it wasn’t.
PAMELA!!! What? Who was that? Where was I? On the report it states: Mrs. Langvardt had a loaded weapon to her temple pulling the trigger multiple times. She was told to put the gun down. Instead, I pointed the gun at the Officers and began pulling the trigger. The gun was loaded. So, why was I still alive? Was I trying to committ suicide? The first two weeks are a blur. After going to my first court hearing, my Judge said that my bail had been set at $250,000.00. As I stated, I have NEVER been incarcerated. I was taken from a beautiful, quiet neighborhood to complete chaos. How was I going to survive? Where was my husband?
Time passed. I lived in filth. Disgust. I heard stories that made my brain swim. Where in the hell had I gone? I was in HELL. There is a process that you go through while incarcerated (at least where I’m from, there is). I went from Alpha 2 (the suicide ward) and four days later to Alpha 3. In Alpha 3 I was locked down for 25 hours every other day. No music, T.V., etc… only books. I began writing. My husband had finally come home. The company he is employed with flew him home at their expense. I will be grateful to this Company forever.
I remember this time (38 days in Alpha 3) I wondered what this Officer thought of me. I felt horrible. I felt like a piece of dirt. What had become of my life, was now seemingly gone. I’m not putting myself above anyone, but, I had reached an all-time low in my life. My husband began coming to see me in jail. This was a positive reinforcement for me.
I then decided enough was enough! I was 53 years old and I was NEVER going to “slip-through the cracks again”. I wrote my Judge a 27 page (front and back) letter, telling of my history. It took about a week to complete. I then began praying. I always had my faith and knew that this was my only hope. I was looking at a $250,000.00 bail and 8-12 years prison time for ONE count of Attempted Murder, I had 5!!!
After writing my Judge about my history…I began thinking about what had happened to my life. What brought me to this place? I remembered in about 1984-1985 I was first diagnosed with PMS!! HA! They didn’t know what to call it back then. Time passed. Yes, there were multiple attempts of suicide. They were SCREAMS for help! No-one had ever helped. Everyone just passed me by. I didn’t realize I was screaming, I just knew I had been in pain for a very long time.
God gave me an answer that I was to be released between the 9th and 21st. I thought this was going to be of January. Well, it wasn’t. I was let down by God, so I thought. After being in Alpha 3 for about 38 days I was transferred to Alpha 1. I didn’t know how long I would be there. There were over 100 women in this unit. I had gained a little bit of confidence and strength in Alpha 3. I was given a single cell. It was dirt! I made that cell, my new home. I began living out of a bin. Everything I owned was in there. There was no heat. I remember wearing three pair of socks, two thermal shirts and long johns with two sheets a pillow case, pillow, and two blankets. At night, we froze. I remember learning how to cover my head during the night and breath. Yes, I hyperventilated a little bit, but it was better than being cold. Many nights, I shivered myself to sleep. At meal time, you ate! Yes, you ATE!! I found hair in my “fried” potatoes! Other’s found stuff in there food that I can’t begin to say. You removed what was in there that you didn’t want to eat and ate what was left.
January passed. Then February and March. I learned to adjust. There were vicious fights (I’ve never seen a fight between two women). I learned the “street-talk” there were even some good times. Sometime in April I was sent to Echo 2. They called it “The Tower.” It was an “open-bay”. No cell doors. But, eight beds to a “pod.” Open baths, etc… Brand new place. Nice painted floors, nice tables, etc….If you made it to Echo, you were either going home or prison!!
Approximately four weeks before my release a male Sheriff’s Deputy approached me…I thought I had done something wrong. He said, “Do you remember me?” I said, “No.” He said, “I’m the Officer that arrested you at your house.” I could feel the blood drain from my body. I started to get emotional and thought, no! I had become stronger and I could make it through this. He said, “I didn’t think you would remember.” I said, “You were going to kill me, weren’t you?” He stated, “Yes, you were 10 seconds away from dyeing.” I said, “Sir, can I shake your hand?” We shook. I said, “Thank You for not killing me, you have an Angel on your should.” We talked a little and when he left I got emotional and broke down. I finally got to meet with the man who almost killed me.
December 27, 2013. The gun belonged to my husband. The reason it had NOT fired was he had put the safety on. I did not know this. I knew nothing about guns and was terrified of them. A day or two (maybe on Christmas, I don’t know) I had begun drinking. When the Officer’s found me, I had half a bottle of Prescription Narcotics gone. The gun did not fire because of the safety but, the Officers did not know this. The Officer stated that if I had not thrown the gun when I did, I would have died. He would not have had any recourse. God sent this Officer to my home that night. Anything could have happened! Someone could have misfired. I am alive. I lived.
On May 14, 2014 my Judge heard everything. I was even able to speak as well as my husband to the fact that I have Mental Illness. I am now home and have Probation for 4 years. My husband during the time of my incarceration took a class with NAMI called Family to Family. He is FINALLY dealing with my Mental Illness. I have begun taking a class called Peer to Peer.
I’m finding that NAMI has so much more to offer. I’m getting involved and staying that way. I’ll NEVER go back to where I cam from. I became strong. I never worked outside of my home. Married like I said, 33 years, never worked outside of my home. I always wanted to be a mother and wife. That was all I strived for. When my children left the home in 1999 I put my life into being a wife. I thought that my being a “mother” was gone, so I surrounded my life to my husband. When he left, somehow I got it into my head that my life as a mother and wife was gone. It ended. I had nothing to live for. Since my release, I’ve found this to not be true. I have so much to live for. As of this date I’m back on my medications and am possibly going back to school. I’ve written my Judge a letter of how I’m doing, I’ve found out he has asked about me. So, I’m going to keep in touch. As far as the Officer who arrested me….he will get a card quite often letting him know my status.
Overwhelmed With The Mental Health System
Overwhelmed with the mental health care system. Shortly after I became a Licensed psychiatric technician my youngest son, Justin was diagnosed with schizophrenia. My son has been through hell and back not to mention myself. I have been employed at the local, county and state level as a psychiatric technician and am so very frustrated with the system. One day I was working and a fellow worker and I were discussing the mental health system. He expressed that more institutions are needed. I was astonished with his remark. I replied back to him, “you have got to be kidding” In this being my profession and a mother with a child who has a mental illness have seen it all. I am devastated in all the pitfalls and setbacks that I and my son have endured. My heart goes out to the mentally ill and to the ones who have to do it on their own or should I say through the system. Now i know why mental illness is out of control. I would love to give congress a earful, maybe then they would listen. Thanks for listening!!
About 3:00am: As a society, we would like to believe that we have emerged into a daily receipt of mental illness minus the stigma of the past. However, although people might appear more comfortable with mental illness because more people seem to be in therapy and taking medication, comfort does not = acceptance. It still disturbs and scares people, so we have not really emerged as far as we would like to assume. There is still a massive umbrella of secrets and forced fronts that remain a constant. It is a perspective that I have lived with for 26 years and I wanted to share my personal journey. As a result, I debuted my solo show 3:00a.m.: Slipping Beyond the Boundaries of a Bruised Mind in June of 2013. It is a reflection of two different phases of bi-polar, insomnia-filled evenings. From Colorado to Chicago… from Ralph Machio to Religion… from Biological Clocks to a Norwegian band obsession… 3:00 a.m. is an interweaving of years gone by and the smorgasbord of segments that have steered me towards my current path. Beast Women Productions will remount “3:00am” for two very special evenings, November 21st & 22nd. Proceeds from these performances will help raise money for NAMI-Chicago, as they continue to help support the families and those who suffer from mental illness.
Lost a Mother and Gained a Son.
I lost my mother when I was 8 months pregnant. She was struggling with mental illness her entire life. I fought for her but she lost the battle. Only after her death did I find that I also had the same illness she lived with, bipolar disorder. I took action. I sought help. I didn’t want her death to be meaningless, misunderstood, and I surely didn’t want my son I suffer like I did growing up. I started talk therapy, then saw a psychiatrist, was properly diagnosed and medicated. I was hesitant to try the meds but reminded myself that it was worth a shot, my son was worth it. I’m glad I did because I have been in control of my life again and capable of maintaining things I was once unable to do. There is pride in seeking help. Pride in knowing yourself and knowing how much strength it takes to face your problems head on. You are NOT alone.
Major Depressive Disorder
I have had a major depressive disorder for over 15 years now. My thoughts move at the speed of light so I have trouble communicating sometimes. I’m in talk therapy and working through all the anger I have from years of trying to fit in with the rest of the population. CBT therapy has also helped with unhelpful intrusive thoughts and negative thoughts. NAMI-peer-to-peer also helped me connect with other people with similar stories. Mental vulnerabilities are real and people are speaking up about them now. You are not alone! #itgetsbetter
I Am Learning to Live Again
My name is Andrea. I am learning to live a better life. I have been involved with my local NAMI office for about the past 8 months and it has been a wonderful experience for me. I just finished a NAMI Peer-to-Peer class in May. I got a certificate of Achievement that I completed the education course. That meant so much to me. I have good people in my life. I am feeling much better than I was earlier this year. I have bp2 and I have my up and down days but I now am learning new coping skills to deal with my bp 2. I have had bp2 for many years. I have made friends from my Peer-to-Peer group and I am very thankful for that. I have also been clean and sober for 12 years. I know I am a fighter and I have been through so much. I have to keep going and continue to fight and be there for other people as well. I am leaning to accept that I am ok just the way I am.
My Mother
It was never about how dirty the house was or how many newspapers you had saved overtime or the amount of magnets you had on both fridges. It was the draining effect of what your mental illness would bring. What mom was I going to see today? Will she be nice and funny? Will she be mean and hurtful? Will she be sad and kept to herself? Everyday was different. Each had a little twist to them. From bipolar to manic to depression the things that are forbidden to be talked about. Yet they take so much away from people. I never hated you I just hated your illness. I hated that you became mean in a blink of an eye or you get sad within seconds and I did love when you were funny because we could crack jokes but all it took was for one little thing and you’d switch. I never wanted this for you. All I wanted was my mom. Your illness took over and it was so hard to love you. When you knew how to take the wound you opened and twist and dig it deeper. I know one day ill look back and be thankful for all the lessons learned and maybe help others one day, but for now I just want to help you.