My father was a drug addict, paranoid schizophrenic, dealer and hoarder.

Growing up was traumatic to say the least, I ended up moving out at age 15.

Currently I am 28, a father to be, high school teacher and martial arts instructor.

My whole life I have been dealing with depression, anxiety and other mental health concerns.

I found that the best therapy came from writing my story, first in the form of poetry then in a book. Even if you only write for your self, please do it. It will help!

I was recently at a dinner with two friends, when we began discussing mental illness and mental health treatment.

All three of us have openly had periods of struggle with both depression and anxiety, but we all had very different takes on treatment, particularly in regards to antidepressants.

“I wouldn’t go on them,” said the first friend.

“I would go on them, but just until I feel better,” said the second.

My take was the opposite: I have been taking antidepressants on and off my entire life, and since deciding to take them consistently nearly three years ago, my life has turned around. I plan to be on them forever.

Conversations like this are not uncommon. When it comes to mental health issues, opinions are often polarized and strongly held.

I understand that antidepressants are not for everyone; many people are fortunate in not suffering from mental illness, and even many of those who do would prefer to have medication be their last resort.

For me, medication is a part of a more comprehensive treatment plan to avoid falling back into the throes of the major depression that I know always lingers beneath the surface of my delicately balanced equilibrium.

I remember what it feels like to be unwell.

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I was diagnosed with Manic Depression and Anxiety in 2011. An ambulance came to me and took me to the Emergency room when I was having suicidal behavior. From there I was admitted to the Psychiatric Hospital. I went through treatment at the hospital for a week and they diagnosed me with a mental illness. I was also prescribed medication and when I was released to go back home I went to therapy every week. I decided to be Homebound for the rest of my High School years up until I graduated in 2012 and walked across that stage to receive my Diploma. Almost 2 years ago I came off of my medication and stopped going to therapy for personal reasons and because I thought I could deal with it on my own and wanted to feel like myself again. (I also didn’t like the side effects of this medication.) Going through the ups and downs that I have over the years has definitely made me stronger, understand others and myself a little more, life, and I am able to cope better at this point. But, I still don’t believe my diagnoses was 100% accurate. At this point in my life I realize I have came along way but I still struggle every day with my confused thoughts and dark times. I know that I cannot continue to do life alone and try to deal with this myself. You have to work at it everyday and there is always room for improvement. I am taking action to plan to get involved in programs to balance life and help others and myself. I want to reach out to the community and help others who deal with mental illnesses to understand who they are and how to pave a path to bring out the best in them and in each other. I also want to educate people who do not understand mental illnesses and have not been diagnosed.

Keep the faith and keep on keeping on!

I encourage everyone to stay strong & don’t lose hope no matter what :)

I also have a powerful weapon to help me through each day… My relationship with God!

June 3, 2014

Thank you for your interest in my recovery story. I have been in mental health treatment for the past thirty-three years. It began at age eight when I was sexually molested by a close relative. I did not tell anyone out of shame and guilt for ten years. I became anorexic immediately following the assault, which turned into bulimia, severe depression and anxiety through my teenage years. My parents would not allow hospitalization or medication because of their ignorance and the stigma involved. Suicide was constantly on my mind. My parents did allow for weekly psychotherapy treatments.

At seventeen, I suffered a major mental breakdown and was limited in my high school attendance. I disclosed facts about the abuse during therapy, but no charges were filed, once again due to the perceived stigma. At eighteen, I took myself to the psychiatrist and received my first prescription for an anti-depressant. Lack of effectiveness and side effects caused me to spend the next fifteen years trying different medicine combinations.

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Hello, I have always thought that sharing my story with the mental health community is important to bring hope to others that are just like me.

I’m a 37 year old divorced mother of two boys. I have been in therapy of some kind or another since I was 7 years old. Mental illness runs in my family as well as substance abuse addiction. I believe I was born with my many disorders that progressed and worsened as I got older, abused illegal drugs, prescribed medication and had my children. In my early childhood I showed all the many signs of OCD. I also grew up in an extremely chaotic family where my mother suffered terribly with her own mental illness that was never acknowledged or treated and an emotionally absent father. My two older siblings coped with this by using and abusing drugs and my older sister was put into rehab when I was seven. My older brother simply moved away and is still an addict today covering up his own mental health issues. My younger sister was extremely emotionally disturbed and would act out violently towards my parents but especially towards me. She would later become a drug addict for many years and thankfully entered recovery 4 ½ years ago.

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I was diagnosed with a mental illness at the age of 19. I am now 62. Not only have I suffered from mental illness I have struggled with the stigma of having mental illness for 43 years now.  I was diagnosed with acute depression, PTSD and bi-polar disorder and I became very much overwhelmed - alone, lost and hopeless. I was seriously contemplating suicide. Someone suggested that I investigate the services available at my local chapter of NAMI. 

I understand that I can never be completely cured of mental illness but with the help of the advocates at NAMI my ‘situation’ was stabilized and there is now hope in my life. In addition to the regular psychiatric care I I receive I attend weekly sessions with a ‘Life Coach’ from NAMI as a client of a program they administer called 'Self-Directed Care’. In addition to the one-on-one counseling I am offered specific goal-oriented financial assistance that helps me pay for my treatment and psychiatric medications and in developing and implementing a plan of action who’s goal is to make me self-sufficient and no longer dependent on the welfare system. 

Whether I eventually succeed or not is still in question and a lot depends on me, but the fact is that today I have a real chance to make a contribution to society instead of being a drain on it. Without NAMI I would be just another mental patient wandering without direction and chances are that I would continue to be in and out of inpatient psychiatric facilities - the perpetual 'revolving door’. Thanks to you and your support of NAMI and the great people there I now have a chance to live a healthier, happier, more productive life.  More of a blessing than a burden.  Thank you.  

Hello.  We all can live a great, purposeful life managing Bipolar Condition or any mental health situations. 

The social stigma of mental illness used to bother me to no end…and contribute to my problems!  I’m over that now, but I prefer to call it Bipolar Condition vs. “Disorder”.  I also prefer to discuss Mental Health vs. “Illness”.

My story in general: 

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            My name is Jennifer and I am a recovered mental illness survivor—

            I have endured severe mental illness for over half my life.  During that time, I suffered from clinical depression, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, schizoaffective disorder, and borderline personality disorder.

            Due to the depression, my behaviors ranged from excessive crying to excessive sleeping to suicide attempts.  I felt feelings of worthlessness, hopelessness, and helplessness.  All I thought I wanted to do was die.   But in fact, what I really wanted was help with overcoming my severe sadness.

            During my manic states, I endured impulsive, spontaneous, and irresponsible behaviors.  I felt on top of world.  I felt excessive amounts of energy.  I had racing thoughts.  I had delusions of grandeur.  I’ll be honest.  It felt great to be so high, but it is also very dangerous.  Risky behaviors can lead to much endangerment of self and others.

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I thought that I had accepted my mental illness long ago.  After all, I was taking medication and attending counseling after being hospitalized for months in a state psychiatric hospital.  Here I was an “advocate” for mental health but refused to disclose to anyone that I was suffering.  It wasn’t until I moved back to my hometown and got involved as a mental health advocate for NAMI that I realized what exactly accepting a mental health diagnosis meant.

Accepting meant that I was going to no longer stigmatize myself for being ill.  A condition, is a condition, is a condition.  I wouldn’t treat someone with diabetes any differently for being ill so why was I holding myself up to such a ridiculous standard?  Accepting meant that I was not afraid to stand in front of a group of 20 strangers and disclose what I thought was my biggest secret in order to educate the community.  For so long I wanted change to the system, change to mental health care.  The only way that change is going to happen is if we all accept our conditions and reduce the stigmatization.  Through acceptance and education comes change.

That change is exactly what I am seeing in myself and my community now.  After going through facilitator training for the NAMI Connection Recovery Support Group program I started a support group for adults with mental illness in my community.  I now sit on the advisory board for my mental health agency and my local NAMI affiliate as a mental health consumer.   I am no longer afraid to say that I have a mental illness and advocate for those who have not yet reached that stage in their recovery or are unable to advocate for themselves.  There is help and there is hope.

TO ANYONE WITH ANY MENTAL ILLNESS OF ANY AGE:

(you don’t have to be in middle school)

Middle School’s known to be some of the hardest years of our lives, between hormones and homework it’s tough enough to make it through without mental health and the stigma it so often carries. As it’s impossible to make it through a class without someone making a joke about a mental illness either a friend of mine or I have, I’ve come to a certain conclusion. Teenagers will be teenagers, it shouldn’t be that way, it shouldn’t be an excuse to kidding about things that people truly struggle with on a daily basis, but it is. Sometimes things in life are just stupid, but we can’t let that get to us.

I’m a 13 (almost 14) year old in the ignorant year of 8th grade, towards the end of last year a few things in life went really, really wrong, and it resulted in a series of unfortunate events (no pun intended). Basically, by the time 8th grade started, I had not only experienced my fair share of panic attacks, gone to a therapist several times, but I had also been diagnosed with depression and an anxiety disorder. I had basically hidden from my entire grade during the summer, so as school started up again and I was struck by a mass of indirect insults towards my mental illnesses, let’s just say there was a lot of tears at the beginning of the year.

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