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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Who am I? I am a wife, mother, sister, friend, Marine and a proud American. I am loving, kind, compassionate, impulsive, stubborn and often difficult. None of those labels define me. I have Bipolar disorder, PTSD along with Borderline personality disorder and I have a tendency to self-harm. Those do not define me either. I am who I am. I am me. Mental illness is like any other illness in the fact that it affects your way of life. It may not present itself with physical symptoms but that makes it no less real. My story may not start like most. Many may find themselves feeling uneasy or unwilling to continue reading. And yet I ask you to try. Try to make it through to the very end. Hopefully you will learn a little more about mental illness and maybe a little more about me. I’m tired of the stigma often associated with mental illness. In order to properly help those in need we need to rid the world of these obvious stigmas. Some are born with a form of mental illness. Others attain it through life’s experiences. I am not sure I fall into one category over the other. And so begins my journey with mental illness…

 As a little girl I grew up loving Barbie dolls, roller skates and my dog Lacey. We lived in a normal middle class neighborhood. We knew most of our neighbors and considered those next to us as family. Maybe that is why what happened became overlooked and went unnoticed until now. As I mentioned above some might find what I am about to say unnerving but please continue on. As a little girl, with long brown pigtails, meticulously braided by my mother and with big brown eyes my neighbor first molested me. This teenage boy took my innocence at approximately 5 years old. It wasn’t just him though. I had an older male cousin that felt the need to molest me as well.  Both continued to steal a little piece of me for years. Like I said no one knew and I was too scared to tell. Still I consider my childhood a happy one. One full of love, excitement, wonder and joy. I began going to Catholic school as a Kindergartener. I stayed at the same school for 9 years. I am still friends with many of my fellow classmates. They were like family to me.

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I have been struggling with mental illness from a young age. I have been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, adhd, ocd, borderline personality disorder, anxiety, psychogenic seizures, and a learning disability. I also am I recovering addict. I would like to spread my story to those in need to show them that the darkness does fade as long as you have the strength to flip the light. The goal is to inspire everyone but if that is not possible I aim to touch at least one person.

I’m the person nobody wants to help. I’m the person who’s problems are too complicated for people to want to deal with and so instead they turn you away. 

My mental illness of depression first showed up when I was 14. Signs of Borderline Personality Disorder were shown a lot earlier than that. Anxiety hit when I was 15. My depression started during the summertime between my freshman and sophomore year of high school. The cops were called to my house because I was suicidal and my parents agreed to get me help. I went once. My sophomore year of high school I started cutting. I started talking to a teacher and the school counselor who got me into counseling. This only helped for a bit until I became suicidal and ended up in the psych ward for the first time. My parents flipped their lid, denying there was anything wrong. I was there a week before being transferred to an adolescent treatment facility where I stayed for two weeks. During this time my parents destroyed the relationship I had with my teacher and school counselor and threatened a law suit. After I got out of that facility, I had a meltdown and was back in four days later for another week. I was discharged and continued outpatient therapy but couldn’t get anywhere because I couldn’t trust anyone. Life went on and I struggled with self harm off an on.

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Hello all,

My name is Isabel and I have been diagnosed with Manic Bipolar Disorder, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Schizophrenia, Depression, Paranoia and have pretty bad anxiety. I suppose I thought of writing this because having a mental illness eats up the joy in life. I have been struggling since I could remember, especially because these “disorders” are apart of my genetic history. Family members have given themselves to alcohol and drugs ; unfortunately that includes myself. There is so much I want spill because it has taken me a long time to realize that there is millions of people out there too that suffer from disorders. At certain occasions I feel alone in this world because of the illness(s). Please for the sake of yourself, loved ones even strangers at times, there is going to be hope. Self harm does harm, food isn’t always comforting, and drugs/alcohol are never the answer. 

Just know that someone is always willing to listen, especially me. The hotline that NAMI provides is AMAZING! Use it to your best advantages. Love you guys.

Mental illness runs in my family four generations.I hear voices and see things that are not there which is caused by my schizophrenia.  I have bipolar disorder because sometimes I am depressed and sometimes I am manic. I have PTSD because my biological father was not in my life and my mom could not take care of my mental illness due to her illness. I have borderline personality disorder because every time I get close to someone they leave or hurt me. I have obsessive compulsive disorder because I want everything to be perfect. I am a psychopath because I like to plan for the future. I do burn bridges because I am protecting my innocence and soul. Because of this stuff I am a terrible mom. Yet music, history and my family and animals help me. So hopefully that will help. A friend is someone that knows all about you, yet loves you just the same. My religion also helps me. I have zillions of blessings everyday.

I have been diagnosed with a long list of mental illnesses. I suffer from severe depression and anxiety, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder (ADHD), and Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). Out of all of them, BPD affects my life the most. I have had BPD my whole life. From pre-school to elementary, I would cry the night before, the morning of, and during school because I wanted to be with my mother. One of the symptoms of BPD is fear of abandonment/paranoia of being abandoned. I did not want to be separated from my mother because I was afraid of being left behind.

Other symptoms of BPD are: feelings of extreme anger for no reason, a pattern of unstable relationships, disassociation, mood swings, depression, anxiety, impulsive dangerous behavior, feelings of emptiness, distorted and unstable self-image, and self-harm/suicidal ideations.

BPD also affects the way one thinks. They see things only as black or white - there is no gray area. In addition, people with BPD put someone they just met on a pedestal, then immediately drops them if the person says/does something they do not like/approve of. It can be the smallest thing and most times, the person has no idea that they did anything offensive. Having BPD distorts the mind, leaving the person unable to think clearly and logically.

I have burned so many bridges because of my fits of rage, my inability to handle stressful situations, and my attachment issues (fear of abandonment).
I have been in and out of the psychiatric ward at the hospital because of BPD. Every time I am released from the psychiatric ward I am hopeful and optimistic, praying that this will be the last time I will be in the psychiatric ward. Except, I always end up going back. I feel so frustrated because I am taking ten steps backwards from recovery.

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1. I’ve had anxiety since 1st grade, depression since I was 11 years old. This was in the 1960’s and 1970’s. Nobody talked about, understood or even knew about mental illness. It was referred to as “growing pains”.
2. Unfortunately, I wasn’t diagnosed until the early 1990’s; also with compulsive overeating, bulimia, borderline personality disorder, relationship/male dependency, survivor of mental, physical and sexual abuse and rape, codependency, PTSD, attention deficit disorder, self harm (cutting), suicide attempts, etc. 
3. When finally diagnosed, mental illness was still not really recognized by insurance companies. Therefore, receiving proper treatment was limited and frustrating. I’m sad and angry that I wasn’t able to get the help I so desperately needed as a child, my life might have been brighter growing up. 
4. I was finally able to receive therapy along with medications to help cope with mental illness. It is still a struggle. Couple of times my medications stopped being effective and I struggled with depression and anxiety. My doctor and I kept trying different medications and ECT’s (Electro Convulsive Therapy) until we found a combination of medications that worked. The ECT’S didn’t help me, but I know friends that find them very helpful. It gets difficult at times, just keep working with your doctor/therapist and there is a light at the end of the dark tunnel.
5. I’m very glad that children and teens are able to be diagnosed early and can get treatment so they have a chance to a brighter future. Even though we still struggle with the stigma of mental illness, times have sure changed since I was a child.

I was first diagnosed with major depressive disorder when I was 13 years old. By the time I reached 16, a few more labels were added to the MMD. These included borderline personality disorder, bipolar disorder, post traumatic stress disorder and OCD. Fun stuff. Medication was the only treatment available at that time. My parents decided the best place for me to be was hospitalized in the mental health unit of a large teaching hospital. I felt and thought the reason for such a drastic change in my life was for their convenience, not what was best for me.

Little background, my father, a surgeon, was diagnosed with severe bipolar disorder, treatment was medication. When the medication no longer controlled the symptoms, he would stop working and sit staring blankly at the television for about 3 months. At some point, my mother would notice and send him out of town for a series of ECT. He would return from his “vacation” zombie like but after a few weeks or so, would return to his baseline personality. He always had a flat affect most of the time.

So, apparently I inherited the gene or genes for mental illness of one name or another.

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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.