The idea of having a Bipolar Disorder stung me for a long time. When I’m feeling down, sometimes I feel the pressures of the stigma revolving around my mental illness. I always felt like there was a “normal” Valerie or a status quo that I had to

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From a very young age I’ve struggled with suicidal thoughts and depression. In elementary school I was bullied. It got to much and I attempted to end my life. I refused treatment up until I was 16. My pediatrician found evidence of self harm on my body. To keep I long story short, I did receive treatment. There have been ups and downs in my recovery. For me its taken a few attempts at treatment to get to where I am today. My message to anyone struggling is to speak up. Please get help! There are websites, hotlines, school counselors that you can talk to…etc. It can be scary to speak up but its the first step to getting to a better place. You may think the sadness will last for ever but trust me when I say it doesn’t have to. 

I have overcame so much in my life, childhood trauma and abuse,foster care, drug addiction, homelessness, incarceration, and mental illness. In 2016 I sought treatment for bipolar disorder, I also decided to pursue my undergraduate degree in psychology on a pursuit to become an Licensed Professional Counselor, I want to provide affordable treatment to those that need it most in our society. I am now in graduate school studying mental health counseling. I could not have done this without my medications, they saved my life and changed me for the better. 

During the fall semester of my freshman year at college, I was diagnosed with schizophrenia. It was a long time coming, and continues to be a long road to recovery. At my age, I find myself disappointed with how far I have come. I know that each day is an opportunity to be better, but I continue to have disorienting thoughts and unorganized thinking. I have found so much support for my recovery that it is unrecognizable to any support I have ever received in my life. These people see me in my darkness, and they see me in my light. They see me. My boyfriend, Evan, is my main support of source and light, and he does not get the recognition he deserves. He is an amazing chef, and I love him. He sees the best of me no matter what. I hope I can hold onto this good thing. My mother is an amazing source of support and good advice, and continues to guide me in the right direction. She always knows what to say and what to do. I love her for this. My dad sees me and my positive traits no matter what. He loves me and gives me guidance. He is a great counselor and I love him. My brother and sister continue to be amazing role models in this world, by doing the best they can and listening to me when they can. I love them. And my dog, of course, continues to be patient and kind and loving, and I love her for that too. I hope that people who have mental health issues can come together to share our stories to show that nobody is alone. Just stay true to your heart and what you need to do for yourself and the ones who truly love you. 

I used to stand glaring into Stigma’s Window, sucked and trapped into the view. All those myths about mental health, wrapped around me and written into my mind’s chalkboard. Just recently, that handwritten scribble of beliefs was finally erased. This is when that chalkboard became blank once again, starting fresh - no longer standing outside of Stigma’s Window, only after being diagnosed with bipolar disorder type II, anxiety and social anxiety.

My history is long and from going from my memories to written down in my book of history - a history of mood swings, stress, self-harm, suicidal thoughts, poor eating habits and a habit disorder. Although Stigma’s Window is the view for many in the world, intersecting with Stigma Road, I have finally stepped away from its view after my recent experience.

Ashamed and made guilty by my diagnosis and bad habits, I felt like I hit the bottom of a valley - and I sunk deeper when confronted. Confronted harshly and sternly by an individual - questioning lies I told while manic along with other signs of mania, though not known at the confrontation, and interpersonal struggles - was the day I got stuck at the bottom of the valley and felt like I was sinking into quicksand with no way out. My expression and nervous system was frozen as tears that I trapped, pushed back too far for too long, finally raced down my cheeks.

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“I’m no longer a victim, nor a Survivor, now - I’m a Thriver”
Wednesday, 26Sep2018

During my teen years (1964-1970), my mother was a practicing alcoholic and prescription drug abuser. And long story short, she horribly abused me, physically, emotionally, and even sometimes sexually. Since the onset of her illicit abuse coincided with the beginning of my puberty, it really “screwed-me-up psycho-sexually. That’s why I never was able to produce children; my “familyfamily-(ha ha)-jewels” wouldn’t work. After I was married, to the dearest sweetest most understanding women, I began my Delayed-Onset-PTSD signs and symptoms. And later borderline Gender-Identity-Disorder. There were several attempted suicides, self destructive behavior, many more. But, I had my Naval psychology classes and my Navy Drug and Alcohol Abuse Counselor training to fall back on. I was same on the aircraft carrier USS Nimitz. Later in civilian life after the worst of my PTSD days, I used my GI Bill Benefits to take college courses. Major: PreMed, minor: Psychology. If I didn’t physician get sick, I would have received my BS in psychology. Only had one year to complete.
During my PTSD days after the Navy, during beginning of my marraige, to the a wonderful sweet understanding women, I sought out one on one therapy, and group therapy, and taking the proper doctor prescribed meds… I got better…And better.
Oh, I didn’t tell you I used to be a Board member at a now defunct NAMI chapter. And my chapter paid for it, but I had training as a Peer Support Specialist. Don’t do it anymore since I became physically ill, with back issues.

I am going to tell you my story of hope and recovery. I grew up as a child very happy. Then around 6th grade my mom saw some things that didn’t seem “right.” I got tested for ADD and the doctor put me on medication. I had reading comprehension issues.

Fast forward a little until around age 18. We moved to another area right when I was going off to college and I think this is what triggered everything. I didn’t process the move normally and verbalize how awful I felt about moving. It was very sudden. I was quietly processing and my thoughts started to spiral downward. It was like my mind “broke” and it was a snowball effect. Also at the time I was taking medication for my acne. This also contributed to having suicidal thoughts and some depression.

I was also dating a guy at the time. We were pretty serious and I was thinking we were probably going to end up together. I was wrong. He couldn’t commit anymore to our relationship and he broke it off. I was devastated. Heartbroken. My world fell apart. I had to go inpatient. I had from then on three suicide attempts and four hospitalizations. I recovered from the breakup but also had a few psychotic breaks after breakup. This was all in between 18 and 23.

When I was around 23, I was in a hospital and I didn’t want to go home to my parents. I was blaming them and going through so much. So I went to a halfway house. I lived there for a year and then got an apartment. Then Hurricane Katrina came in 2005 and I decided to go with my parents. Then I decided to get a job. I still work at my job three days a week now. But I have had my job for ten years. I also decided to go back to school while having a mental illness and finish my business degree. It took me a long time to finish while going through my challenges, but I did it. I smoked at the time as well for five years but I prayed and asked God to take it away and He did.

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Recovery is possible. There are times of great strides and others of slow downward regressions. However, there is always hope, healing and wholeness after the storm. No matter what shape you are in, there is help out there. Stay in treatment for the long haul.

I want to take a moment to share the storms that I have been through, especially over the last year. I want to share my story in hopes of breaking stigma on mental illnesses and to open the door for those who don’t understand it. I truly believe God has provided me with an opportunity to open up and advocate for those who struggle mentally.

It’s hard for me to know when my personal struggles really began; it probably started out as mild OCD when I was young but how was I to know that I wasn’t just anal and an over-analyzer? I remember when my OCD began to take form into the obsession of body image and food intake during my last year of high school. I began counting, checking, worrying, and constantly thinking about what I was putting into my body and the effect it created on how I looked. Nobody, myself included, realized that I was sick; the people in my life just thought it was how I was.

Eventually, my eating disorder took over my life. I became destructive to my body, the very beautiful creation of God, in order to try to sustain an image I was never satisfied with. Priorities and relationships were put on the back burner to fuel my obsession. I became depressed and anxious, lacking energy and ambition in all areas of my life. Maybe it was the eating disorder and OCD that covered up the cycles I was mentally going through though; times of darkness and despair following moments of joy and love of life and all in it.

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I am a military veteran. I also grew up in a family that would never support mental health, nor recognize that I had bipolar and hyper activity symptoms. As I continued to grow up, I had academic and social problems. I could only relate to my peers through sports. In this area, I excelled. As I continued through high school, I became an athletic phenomenon. I had become a national silver and golden gloves boxing champion. I was an all state football star. I was an all state track star. I even received scholarships to major universities. The university scouts predicted I would become one of the most feared defensive end’s in college football and one of the fastest 400 m and 110 m hurdlers in track and field.

I lacked the self esteem, for academics - so I refused all offers. I joined the military instead; knowing that I could excel in the military. I did. I had a great career, full of adventure, exotic countries and people, humanitarian missions, and so on -  during war time and peace. I thought I was just fine, as a person. Looking back, I was a train wreck, looking for a place to happen. Not because of the military, but because I had a genetic condition, that no one picked up on - in a conducive environment. I went through years of depression and anger, not knowing what was “wrong with me”. I blamed everything and everyone else. Because I was a proud man, and loyal.

As years passed, I became worse. Then I was in an accident, that left me with a  medium brain injury, broken shoulder, broken left hip, twisted pelvis and a spinal column that is still degenerating in the disks and vertebrate. I was also diagnosed with other chronic physical disabling conditions. Physicians told my family, that I would not live much longer. Were they ever wrong! I know my higher power had other plans.

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