More you might like
Chihuahua Miracle
BY SARA PAULSEN
Mental Health Survivor, dog breeder, and Liam
SEBAGO, MAINE— In my mid-20s, I was terrified to reintegrate myself into society after losing my job and ending up on disability. Even though I was taking
my medication for my schizoaffective disorder, it doesn’t control all my
symptoms. I don’t have delusions anymore, but I am left with visual and
auditory hallucinations. I became very lonely, and I was at a loss as to how
I would continue to live the rest of my life. I needed a companion; I
desperately wanted a Chihuahua.
I didn’t intend for him to be a service dog. Over the Internet, I found a
local Chihuahua breeder with a positive reputation. While petting Liam for
the first time, I began to open up to the breeder, who told me she had been
training Chihuahuas for 33 years.
She was very easy to talk to, so I told her about my journey with
mental illness and why I wanted a dog at this point in my life. She asked
me what I was still struggling with on a daily basis.
I explained that I was constantly asking my boyfriend either “Did you
hear that?” or “Did you see that?” to get a reality check on the low-level
hallucinations that my medicine still doesn’t completely control. As you can
imagine, it was creating a lot of stress in our home. I was also paranoid
about being home alone and going out alone, and I was self-conscious
about my possible behaviors.
The breeder asked if I would consider working with her to train Liam
to help me. I immediately thought of hugs, kisses and unconditional love –
which are all wonderful – but I didn’t know what else she could train Liam to
do for me. She said she had ideas that she had never tried before and asked if I would be willing to work on creating a Chihuahua miracle. She
didn’t ask for a penny.
How could I resist? I worked with her for two years twice a week, and
during the second year, my therapist even agreed to join us. This was the
opportunity of a lifetime.
Liam now assists me in ways I never thought possible. I’ll lightly tap
his shoulder with two fingers and then ask him either “Did you hear that?”
or “Did you see that?” If he did, he will put one paw forward; if he did not,
he will lie down.
Super amazing, right? I had no idea a dog could do this. This
seemingly basic task changes the way I live my life every day.
He has become my barometer for reality. I don’t have to ask the
people closest to me a thousand times a day about a possible
hallucination. I don’t have to be scared and wake someone up in the middle
of the night. My paranoia has decreased drastically. I’m not scared to be
home alone and I’m not scared to go out alone, because he is always there
supporting me.
I continue to bring Liam, my Chihuahua, everywhere I go. I am a
public speaker for three separate mental health speaker bureaus in Maine.
He can be quite the attraction. It is as if we have an invisible leash
connection at all times. He just turned 7 years old, so we are in a fantastic
rhythm together. He is still happy and healthy.
His little 6-pound frame has changed my life. I am not scared
anymore, and my relationships are stronger and healthier than ever before.
He has helped me so much to reintegrate into society. He is my best and
most loyal friend.
Worn Out
I was tired. The kind of tired you feel when your mind won’t shut off or allow rest. Thoughts banging around inside like a toddler pounding on a drum set. Relentless. Persistent. Never ending. Ranging from repetitive song lyrics to worrying about finances, to re-evaluating past conversations, or the absence of a polite hello from a childhood friend or even an acquaintance.
How far I’ve fallen from the accomplishments in my life. Once able to care for the sick, prioritize the needs and balance the care for multiple patients. Nursing everyone to health, except for myself. Now my heart pounds and thumps inside my chest if my little girl throws up on herself and all over the bed. Frozen. Unsure of what to do. Panicked. Years of sustained flight or fight reactions, a disruptive, chaotic homelife had finally caught up to my nerves. Short-circuited them. Fried them.
Exhausted. Worn out from trying to survive. Hiding. Ignoring being unwell. I finally succumbed to the reality of having a mental illness. Asked for help. No longer fought a battle alone. Took the time to allow adjustments of medications. Tolerated the side effects. Almost used to the constant hunger and the slight hand tremor. Persevering with one goal; to just feel better. Becoming a consistent wife and mother.
It’s not that I wasn’t strong enough before, it’s just that there’s more at stake now.
Time is much more precious.
I owe it to myself, for the man I adore, the children I devote my heart and soul to, because when it comes time for them to write their own story, may it be of strength and courage, not overcoming damage.
Favorite Song Lyric
I have lots more to say on the subject of stigma and our moving forward with our lives in spite of it. However, when I saw that posting lyrics was an option, this one came to mind. I think it’s safe to say anyone that has lived with a mental illness has faced some sort of stigma at some point. While I was more conservative in my thinking just a couple of years ago, I have vowed now to own it! This line, from a much older Bruce Springsteen song, “New York City Serenade” has become my life’s motto if you will. Don’t let anyone ever bring you down or allow you to bring yourself down - own who you are; be proud and keep your head high … we’re all survivors!
“So walk tall … or baby don’t walk at all.”
- Bruce Springsteen
Suicide Survivors; the Ties That Bind Us
Suicide survivors belong to an exclusive club with a costly membership fee. As the lyrics from the Eagles song Hotel California say; “you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave”, the same can be said about the house of grief where suicide survivors live.
Since my soul mate of 33 years, Steve, took his own life in March, 2015, I have observed there are some common ties that bind suicide survivors. Yes, some of these ties are shared by anyone who grieves the loss of a loved one and I am by no means trivializing their pain. We all grieve differently and in different ways for different relationships. However, in the case of suicide survivors, I believe our grief is intensified due to the stigmas associated with suicide and society’s inability to comprehend how someone can take their own life.
In connecting with other suicide survivors, these are the common themes I have seen that many of us share:
- We have so many unanswered questions.
Why did he (she) give up hope?, What could I have done differently to prevent this tragedy? , Why didn’t I see the signs?, How could he(she) do this if he (she) loved me? These questions will never have answers and they will always haunt us.
Back into the Light
Welcome down underground, hunker down a spell.
Gets to feel like home to me though I know it looks like hell.
Down in the hole, Lord, it’s deep and the sides are steep.
And the nights are long and cold, down in the hole.
Light and love and the world above mean nothing to the mole.
Down in the hole.
My Life Dealing with Schizophrenia
Hello, my name Daniel and I struggle with Schizophrenia. It really all started with me being to scared to get near under my bed, in which I would jump to my bed from as far from my bed as I could, occasionally making me hit my arm or knee of the bed frame. Next, I’d look up to a figure staring at me or going to another room and someone is staring at something. Finally, the delusions were the worst part. I’d think if the full moon was full, I would be unsafe, I thought my limbs were turning purple or that someone was after me. My friends would tell me nobody is where I’m saying one of my hallucinations would be or would say that the moon or something would hurt me. I didn’t believe I had Schizophrenia or any other mental illness but finally, I believed my friends after the first psychotic episode. I was stressed over school and decided to go on a walk and sit down for a while. I constantly got worried someone was behind me and would look behind me often. Finally, i looked behind me and a figure was staring at me and started walking towards me. I kept saying, ”Please leave me alone,” or “Please dont hurt me.”
Anyway, now I’m with friends that help me through it and understand.
The Search
Do you ever feel your emotions physically? It might be a pit in your stomach or a tension in your back. It calls out to you, like a siren blaring, “something is wrong”. A month or so ago, I had this pit in my stomach that would not go away. It felt like a sustained, subtle panic attack that lasted several days, perhaps even a week. I couldn’t understand what it was telling me. To run? To stay? Which thoughts should I follow? Which were trying to be helpful and which were feeding this feeling in my stomach? I tried many of my usual coping skills to make it go away: running, meditation, sleep, talking it out. Nothing was working, which indicated that it was something deeper.