Hi there. My name’s Briana, and I suffer from mental illness. I really hope that sharing an overview of my story will help other people to not feel so alone. Here goes:

I began therapy when I was about seven, and I’ve been in it ever since. I also take a few different medications to help ease my symptoms; in fact, I’m still trying to find the right combo of meds that works for me. I’ve officially been diagnosed with major depressive disorder, generalized anxiety disorder and “bipolar tendencies”. My biggest struggle is with my depression, but I also suffer from really paranoid, intrusive thoughts and extreme anxiety. I’ve been hospitalized before because things have gotten bad enough where I’ve been suicidal. 

Even though that all sounds very negative, my life has not been dominated by my mental illness. I’ve been able to maintain my mental health well enough to graduate from college with two degrees. If I can do it, I sincerely believe that anyone with the willpower can too. I believe in you and your ability to overcome.

Hello, my Name is Everetta Moore. I am a productive member of my community. I have been a resident of Baltimore Maryland for 4 years. Prior to moving here I was suffering with a mental illness going back and forth to the hospital. I always had the will power to overcome my disease by just seeing my doctor, getting therapy and taking my medication every day in order to not have a crash.

 I was diagnosed in 1990. Since then I was able to hold a job, keep an apartment, go in society and function with normal people. I have more support in my community. I help others to get through on a daily basis when help is needed. I give food to the homeless. I give away my unwanted clothes. I also provide my service by doing volunteer work just to give back to the community.

I am doing wonderful with the help of my doctors, therapist and one on one counseling and take my medication everyday. I have not been admitted in the hospital since 2011. Thats good for me, I usually go in the hospital at least twice a year.

I am happily in love with my apartment.  I am proud of who I am and not afraid of talking with others. Once upon a time I would talk to no one i talk with people than i ever had in my whole  entire life. I feel safe going our into the public no matter where i have o go. I am so happy just be able to help others that experince what i have echange ideas as to how we can go about making a change for the better in order to become a productive memeber in society. 

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.

Keep reading

As many do, I fought the idea of mental illness and medication. At 50, I finally accepted my diagnoses and began the journey towards stability. Learning all I could about my multiple diagnosises and what I could do to help myself I faithfully began treatment, never missing an appointment nor a dose of prescribed medication. 

Keep reading

My name is Amanda and I am a 30 year old female.  I was diagnosed with mental illness at a young age. My life of abuse started when I was three years old.  It did not end until I was probably 18.  I have tried to hurt myself lots of times in the past but at the same time was refusing treatment and was refusing to take my medication the proper way.  In 2013 I was living in a group home and I found out that my brother had committed suicide.  That was my wake-up call.  I decided I wasn’t going to harm myself anymore and that I was going to follow all treatment that was offered to me.  So this resulted in me having to have all of my medications monitored by my case manager.  After a while of doing well I had several set-backs but I am now on my medications everyday.  I am in complete control of my medications. and I go to treatment like I am supposed to. I am no longer arguing with my mom like I was in the beginning. I have a more positive look on life and I am a lot happier.

I have suffered depression and anxiety most of my life but only began being prescribed medications in the last 18 yrs. After 31 different mediation trials, I have been on a medication combination now that is making a difference in my life. I feel better than I have in years and I never lost hope that this day would come. Perfect? No. Better? Yes. I knew that there was a medication out there and that someday I would find the right one. I found that I could not give up nor could I stop pursuing whatever it took to find the right meds. It is important that if you are dealing with depression and anxiety that you lean on others and or perhaps your religion at times. The struggle has been hard for me mixed with a lot of tears but to be 50 and possibly feeling “normal” is a triumph for my personal journey. There is no “magic pill” unfortunately, it takes a combination of determination, commitment, patience, therapy and the right combination of meds to feel close to free from mental illness. I finally feel valuable, confident and worthy of where I am and everyone deserves to be there. Never give up.

  Yes, I was hospitalized three times for Post Partum Psychosis (PPP) after my daughter’s birth.  After I read about Robin Williams’ tragic death yesterday, I wanted to do something positive as a sort of tribute to him and all of us suffering from mental illness.  First of all, rest in Peace acting genius.  There is hope, for me, for you.  As I write this, my daughter is playing with a jar of olive oil, and I have friends coming over for a homemade spa day.  In the depths of my paranoia and delusions 11 months ago, I could barely believe that I would live another moment, let alone we’d be enjoying this peaceful afternoon.  I felt like Edna Pontellier in The Awakening. Dealing with PPP is sometimes like treading freezing water.  I chose to be voluntarily admitted to the hospital all three times.

  My family (especially my Captain Husband - who visited me in the hospital every night with our Snuggly Daughter) and friends (especially my Spiritual Friend - who flew from California on a red eye with her young child) stepped up to take care of all of us.  Yes, I chose to take medication, and still breastfeed.  For a couple weeks I participated to the best of my ability in a Partial Hospitalization program.  Next I walked next door for my Behavioral Health Intensive Outpatient Program three days a week.  I am a proud graduate of BHIOP’s program, and still go to my talented psychiatrist-psychotherapist.  Now I take a lower dose of medications, exercise, and pray everyday.  Since I’m stable, perhaps by Christmas, my psychiatrist and I will decide I don’t need the medication anymore!  After that, I’ll see her every couple of months, then every year or so.  And since I’m praying, know that you, who are reading this, are in my prayers.

For over 40 years, our family has lived with a fatal risk of a close family member who is suicidal and homicidal. Despite threats and living with the fear of a death by reason of mental illness, our survival is based on spiritual and professional advice, as well as early intervention. Our brother received group & individual counseling, as well as medication at no charge, while he was a student at UGA in the 1970s. He completed his bachelors in horticulture during a 6 year, reduced class load. Then had full time horticulture employment for three years at a public school facility.  His grandiose and ambitious nature took him into unstructured “self-employment” and a developing female relationship, which failed and left him traveling Western states, engaging in several part time employments. He always had family financial support to fall back on, though he lived a very meager lifestyle. Eventually returning home to GA for a few years before returning to the remote & beautiful landscape of the West, where he felt his cherished connection with the imagination of his happier years of a cradled child who watched old Western movies. He was content. We re-assured us that he was doing okay most of the time. 

Primarily because of the 1970s’ generosity of the UGA counseling center and medication (not affordable to our family), fatal consequences have not yet occurred.  As Christmas approaches, we are cautious not to intrude on the daily routine of our “brother-at-risk”. We eventually receive a letter sometimes a week, sometimes a month after Christmas. If we have not heard from him, we call or write a brief “Christmas” card, never any admonishment or advice.

Keep reading