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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Enough is enough!  The challenge of living with a mental illness has struck me and many members of my family, female and male, and today, I am taking a stand. I will be their voice…for anxiety, depression, schizophrenia, bipolar disorder and more. I will not walk in shame and defeat for my head is lifted to the sky. I will not let society put us in a category, define us, or mark us as “crazy” or “half cracked”. We have to address mental illness in our global society and aim to defeat it like any other illness of the body. It has no perspective race, gender, or culture and it comes to steal the joy of living on this beautiful earth.

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Everyone struggles with something in life. Some struggle for brief periods of time and some struggle every day. I belong to the some who struggle every day. Since I was 5 years old I have constantly struggled with mental illness. I have been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, borderline personality disorder, schizophrenia, depression, anxiety, ADD, ADHD, PTSD, and attention deficit Disorder. My dad, step mother, and Step Father physically abused me for most of my life because they didn’t understand what I was going through and my Mother was the only person in my life to try to help me through everything I was dealing with. Unfortunately I did not trust anyone around me due to how I was treated at home and because I was constantly bullied at school because I was different. Eventually the abuse I was facing at my step fathers house led to me going into a state of shock and I tried to hurt my mother because I was so out of it and thought she was my step father. I was 15 at this point and was detained. 

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I am 32, a United States Marine Corps veteran, an auditor and I am living with bipolar disorder II, which causes symptoms of anxiety and depression episodes.

I never truly understood what it meant to have a mental illness until I realized that I was constantly worrying and feeling down. My depression episodes manifested as days of extreme lows where I struggled to get out of bed and perform day-to-day tasks and activities. I spoke to some friends who were dealing with similar symptoms, and they encouraged me to seek professional help. My bipolar diagnosis was identified when I was in a serious car accident while experiencing a manic episode.

Discovering a mental illness while recovering from a major accident was not easy. Here is what helped me accept my diagnosis and recover from my physical and mental injuries:

• My family and friends stepped up tremendously ready to assist and encourage me. I was an emotional and mental mess, and they helped put me back together.
• I had to position myself to receive advice from my family and friends who are familiar with mental illness and are actively managing their own mental illnesses. I also had to remain open to receiving information regarding coping strategies, being mindful of my mood and warning signs of a potential manic episode or manic depression.
• Setting small goals helped me find my way back to myself. I am not the same person I was before the accident, and trying to get back to that person is not realistic. I had to accept the now me in order to move forward.   

Today, I am different because I am living with my diagnosis and my diagnosis is not controlling me. I see my therapist and psychologist on a regular basis. I am mindful of my mood on a daily basis and aware of the warning signs of manic and depressive episodes. I ultimately have taken charge of my life and my health.

There is a need for mental illness to be recognized as a real and serious condition in community specifically the African American community. People need to be educated on the various mental illness diagnoses and symptoms and see a therapist at least 2-4 times a year to maintain their mental health. Education and therapy ensure they are not putting themselves or others in danger. Many people are unaware of their mental illness and choose to suffer in silence. We need to end this process of thinking and encourage people to seek support.

Mental illness screenings should be done 2-4 times a year for preventative reasons, just like an annual physical examinations and biannual dental cleanings. Mental illness screenings should be no different.

My hope is that people who live with mental illness and the people who love them will eventually see all health as equally important.

So, since 2011 my older brother has been having symptoms but has been diagnosed with schizophrenia, bipolar disorder and ADHD, in my opinion psychosis. I’ve been to mental health court with him, tried several programs and various medications. Me and mother’s last resort is always the hospitalization. He needs therapy, he hasn’t been on meds in 9 months he was fine but not he decided to get back on meds but doesn’t take all of them. He’s an alcoholic, beer consumption everyday! He always blames me and my mother if he can’t find something he lost. He has angry issues, blast loud music and in his car I’m surprised neighbors don’t call the police for noise complaints. It’s exhausting going through this all. I can’t allow my oldest brother who also in a program to come over because my other brother thinks he steals his stuff which isn’t true. I can barely sleep most of the time, I sleep over my bf house just to get a rest, on top of that I’m my mother’s caregiver she has metastatic breast cancer. The stress is unbearable. Idk what to do anymore except deal with it as I been dealing with it sadly.

The pain that’s associated with the diagnosis of a loved one with Mental illness, such as Schizophrenia, Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Anxiety, Suicide, Self Harm, Substance Abuse is and can be very stressful and depleting on the loved ones caring for the individuals with the diagnosis. I have learned from my experiences with my daughter that it takes a lot of Love, Patience and Compassion in order to be their support system which is not at all an easy task, for the simple fact that they perceive you to be against them in spite of you trying your hardest to help and support them. by the way i’ve experienced all these diagnosis with my daughter who was 17 when I began to see these behaviors began to unfold. She’s now 21 and have had many hospitalization and so many issues with staying out of trouble with the law as a result of making poor choices. The treatment options that was offered for her didn’t work because she wouldn’t participate unless she was in the hospital, so after she was released from the hospital the cycle would just repeat itself. There  were times when I didn’t know where to turn for help, I felt desperate so I would search for answers and resources on websites that’s designed for mental health just to find none or ending back to starting point. 

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My name is Gthreesongs why because I don’t really like sharing my name because of things that happened in the past. I probably suffer from bipolar disorder or depression and anxiety and maybe Schizophrenia but there is hope for people that suffer from it just have good friends and love life and your family or if something is happening where you don’t like your family chose your friends.

In 2004 my life changed. I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I was twenty years old at the time, and I was a good student. I began feeling depressed and having memory issues. My grades began to slip. I knew something was wrong. I did a little research, and I concluded that I must have bipolar disorder. Mental illness runs in my family so I wasn’t scared to go to the mental health facility to seek help. Sure enough, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. It has been a difficult twelve years. I have had many jobs. I have acted erratic and gone years without working due to depression. I’m thirty-two now, and I am on a cocktail of medication that is beginning to work. Hopefully, I’ll be working soon. Remember to never give up hope.

Hi I’m Dave and I have struggled with Schizoaffective Disorder (a lovely combination of Bipolar Disorder and Schizophrenia) for over 40 years.  As a child I suffered with extreme depression and manic episodes.  When I was eleven I began hearing voices.  I am now 52 and it’s been a long, difficult, and strange road. Over the years I have learned a few tricks that have allowed me to experience a degree of peace and serenity, sometimes. Let me tell you a little bit about this disease, the consequences it’s had on my life, and how I’ve learned to cope with it.

From what I understand hallucinations and delusions can be a little different for different people. For me, hearing voices is just like it sounds, it’s like being in a room with people around you talking. It comes and it goes in varying degrees of intensity, and it can drive you mad.

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COLLATERAL DAMAGE

Collateral Damage: injury inflicted on something other than an intended target.

Although I do not suffer from mental illness, my family has suffered, and continues to suffer, from the effects of mental illness. You could say it’s collateral damage.

My daughter had bipolar disorder with associated schizophrenia.

My first-born child, she came into this world as a cute little strawberry blond. Her father’s bipolar disorder soon came to light and, due to his abuse, I divorced him when she was just 3 years old. Our nuclear family then consisted of my actively-involved and supporting parents, her younger brother, and me.  When she was 10, I remarried and soon thereafter, we added another son to the family.  She had a very normal upbringing in an upper-middle-class neighborhood and had many opportunities that other children did not have in life. She was a strong-willed child, but, as she grew older, her issues presented primarily through anger and “emotional issues” which disrupted our family life and for which we all received counseling.

As a teen, in order to give her a new perspective and to allow our other children to live without her daily rantings, she went to live with other family members until she graduated from high school. She excelled in these situations. She enrolled in college, but when the 9/11 tragedy occurred, she completely lost it. She quit school and returned home. She had a few jobs and even worked as a stand-in for a movie that was filmed in our town.  

All in all, she was a beautiful young lady who had a zest for life, a sparkle in her Caribbean-blue eyes, and so many opportunities. She fell in love, moved out of town and married at age 19. Within four years, she had three children and their marriage was on the rocks.

A single parent at 24, she needed help raising her children, so we moved her, and unbeknownst to us, her growing bipolar disorder, back to town. 

Bipolar disorder, quoting NAMI, “is a mental illness that causes dramatic shifts in a person’s mood, energy and ability to think clearly. People with bipolar experience high and low moods—known as mania and depression—which differ from the typical ups-and-downs most people experience.  The average age-of-onset is about 25, but it can occur in the teens, or more uncommonly, in childhood.”

The last 12 years have been full of few “ups” and so many “downs.” 

The “ups” are her four children, and spending time with them.  She remarried as soon as her divorce was final, and had another child. Although she loved her children with all of her heart and soul, she was unable to keep up with all that entails raising four children, all boys, and I mean “all boys.”  Her new husband did the best he could to work and care for the family all the while her mental health issues were becoming more prominent.  My husband, two sons and I all did our best to support them, and to give her children a foundation from which to grow. 

The downs are too numerous to mention, but I’ll hit the highlights (lowlights?): 

• There were many family court battles over visitation and custody with her first ex-husband.  Eventually, he was granted custody of the three oldest boys and her rights to her own children were terminated. 
• He also refused to allow me any visitation with my grandchildren, and after almost 2 years of litigation, I lost my fight. As it stands now, I have no way to see or even communicate with my three oldest grandchildren.  Even worse, my youngest grandchild has lost his three brothers, and the three oldest have lost their youngest brother.
• Her second marriage also ended in divorce, and he was granted custody of the youngest child. 
• Her manic moods became much more severe, and schizophrenia soon set in.  She did receive medical and psychiatric help as an in-patient and out-patient, but either she failed to follow her prescribed treatment plan, or the plans weren’t effective.
• Despite my helping her in so many ways and, particularly, in helping her to get approved for monthly Social Security Disability payments, she became homeless, sometimes living in a tent, homeless shelter, storage shed, etc.  She lost all of her possessions through neglect, foolishness, etc.
• She threatened “great harm” to me.  In order to protect myself and those who live/work with me, I was forced to get a restraining order – against my own daughter.
• She was arrested numerous times as a result of her manic episodes and the behavior she exhibited during those episodes.  (Each time, I pleaded with the court to get her more treatment, not jail time.  Unfortunately, our jails are filled with the mentally-ill.)
• She left town on a bus one day, not really knowing where she would go or what she would do.  We’re not really sure what happened from that point on.

In late July, we received the phone call we had always dreaded.  A call came from the County Coroner’s Office in a state 700 miles away.  We still don’t know the “what” or “why” of her death, but it doesn’t really matter.  She was a victim of an inherited mental illness, and the side-effects thereof.

We brought her home and, remembering what and who she was when she was at her best, we celebrated her life and laid her to rest.  She is no longer suffering.  We are no longer burdened with worry.  Maybe God decided it was time for an end to her misery that wore on us all.

The damage has been done, and we have our scars.  As to the three oldest grandchildren we have now “lost,” I pray that they are well, and that we will be reunited at some point. Her youngest child is, thankfully, part of our lives on a consistent basis.  My husband, two sons and I are all happy, well and thriving. Life goes on.