I am a military veteran. I also grew up in a family that would never support mental health, nor recognize that I had bipolar and hyper activity symptoms. As I continued to grow up, I had academic and social problems. I could only relate to my peers through sports. In this area, I excelled. As I continued through high school, I became an athletic phenomenon. I had become a national silver and golden gloves boxing champion. I was an all state football star. I was an all state track star. I even received scholarships to major universities. The university scouts predicted I would become one of the most feared defensive end’s in college football and one of the fastest 400 m and 110 m hurdlers in track and field.

I lacked the self esteem, for academics - so I refused all offers. I joined the military instead; knowing that I could excel in the military. I did. I had a great career, full of adventure, exotic countries and people, humanitarian missions, and so on -  during war time and peace. I thought I was just fine, as a person. Looking back, I was a train wreck, looking for a place to happen. Not because of the military, but because I had a genetic condition, that no one picked up on - in a conducive environment. I went through years of depression and anger, not knowing what was “wrong with me”. I blamed everything and everyone else. Because I was a proud man, and loyal.

As years passed, I became worse. Then I was in an accident, that left me with a  medium brain injury, broken shoulder, broken left hip, twisted pelvis and a spinal column that is still degenerating in the disks and vertebrate. I was also diagnosed with other chronic physical disabling conditions. Physicians told my family, that I would not live much longer. Were they ever wrong! I know my higher power had other plans.

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Maybe , I could have spoken up at different jobs. I had already been through therapy and sent on my way ,in had come along way ! I was havehave a regular physician maintain my meds Even the mental health place was going to verify that he would maintain my medicine 🙃And as usual, I didn’t get told a few things and I should’ve known. Not that it would probably mattered . I’m sorry but I will in about the jobs I got it Like telling them I had mental problems. I already had problems with my absenteeism wherever I worked. Then let’s take it all away, all my meds. I had started going to a government clinic All that time no problem one time I make a mistake. And I have to stop there for a year and kiss and I cannot dirty with THC. Apparently they were unaware of that metal abuse I was getting out home He has been at the game finally you said Josie you need to go to a mental health clinic he can’t even look at me. I have been on the phone that has a pan for 25 years 5/2 mg are not gonna take that away. I had work myself down from.3 daily to one at night, I hung in there for a year with no med for anxiety or my ADD. But she made me choose between months before the clonazepam got took away, Im Still not the way I use to be, which was not great. But people notice now. Just a little trigger and my brain flickers Like a light bulb getting ready to go out. I went through that I’ve went through three more withdrawal issues changing meds now when I had major depressive disorder. I’ve waited two years on disability I’m here I’m by my family. You get up . Dust Yourself off and go to work I have been humiliated and I I had to come to some peace about that, my dream was tonbe 50 and living off the government. Nothing but put down raising my kids and their great And they have more than mom ever did. But when your dad looks at you like he is totally disappointed. One more thing sorry, people have to understand what’s wrong with them. Because if it wasn’t for me speaking up. I’d be on antipsychotics walking around like a damn robot because I didn’t know how to explain myself because some people are looking for words in the profession they don’t know you anymore and you know them and it causes problems. But I know they try⏫

Poem 33 Voluntary Work Helps My Life

VOLUNTARY  WORK  HELPS  MY  LIFE

I have been doing Voluntary Work for Many Years now.

My Mental Health Problems which are Also,

Mentioned about in my Poetry Book,

“SOME OF THESE MAKE SENSE, SOME OF THEM DONT,

BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT LIFE IS.”

Post Traumatic Stress, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder,

Depression not Clinical and Schizophrenia.

Pricing Books for a Local Hospice and working on the Till,

Another Charity Shop Pricing Dvd’s, Computer Games and CD’s.

Welcomer at a Cathedral, telling History,

from Roman Times to the Present.

18^th Century Church near my Address, again talking History,

Which is what my Degree was in.

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My life did not use to look how it looks now.  My life was once “untouched” and “uninformed” when it came to mental health awareness and the true facts of mental illnesses.

I am a Christian by faith in Jesus however, this particular situation was not something that could just be prayed away.  It was a situation that required much patience and endurance, love, acceptance of things I couldn’t control while holding onto Jesus’s unchanging hand.

My daughter had been behaving slightly “different” and “odd”, not enough to be of great concern in the beginning, but just enough for me to pick up on.  Days passed and we rolled into about a week, and then she began displaying very obvious behaviors that clearly showed she was in need of being evaluated for her mental health.

Her behaviors had become much more intensified, meaning she had always used the bathroom a lot, but during this time, she had basically stayed in there for several hours.  She was changing her outfits frequently, mumbling odd little phrases.  She was delusional, and not within her own control to stop these thoughts from coming.  She had never threatened herself, or anyone else, nor was she displaying any kind of violent behaviors.  She agreed to be treated inpatient and eventually with the accurate medication and Gods help, she stabilized and is now back to living a better quality of life.

My sole purpose, all things aside, I want society to become educated on mental illnesses, mental health, and to stop loosely labeling and self diagnosing others.  It’s NOT okay, and it’s portraying the false views of what mental health is all about.

So when you hear that saying, “the mind is a battlefield”, I can attest that it truly is.  However, when moments are good, you can take charge of your thoughts and not allow your thoughts to take charge of your actions.  Live in the good moments, breathe while you have fresh air, laugh when their is something funny, listen when it’s time to listen, speak when it’s time to speak.  Hug often, love everyone in spite of their flaws.

We had to be patient in tribulation, and allow God to see us through.  All our strength came from the Lord.  It was in our weakest moments that God was able to be our strength. 

People with mental illnesses are individuals who battle everyday.  Some days are better than others and none will be the same.  Everyone’s journey is unique and different, this is mine.  I hope I shed light on some things to those “untouched” and “uninformed”. 

My journey with mental health has not been an easy one. I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression in 2011. I was constantly having panic attacks at bight time which prevented me from sleeping. I finally decided that it was time to get the help I very much so needed. I did, and every since then I can better manage my mental health with the tools that my therapist has given me. There is light and hope even after the darkest of storms. Keep fighting ❤️

There’s so much that I could truly say, but would it make sense whenever I said it, probably not. But it’s always worth a shot right. Truth is, even whenever it seems like its not the right thing to do, don’t be afraid to take a chance. That’s what I live by. What doesn’t kill you… Makes you stronger.

My name is Zachary Mallory. I am a Mental Health and Suicide Prevention Advocate from Kansas City, Missouri. Born and raised. I have never been the type of person to open up and talk about myself, but I feel like it’s truly that time to do so.

Growing up, I guess you could say I had a normal childhood, but what’s Normal anyways? Throughout school, it was like a putrid hell for me. I never knew what to expect whenever I was walking down the hallways. Was I going to make it to class on time, or am I going to get thrown down the stairs, yet again. It was like a reoccurring nightmare that just wouldn’t go away, no matter what I tried.

Coming home to my parents was my biggest challenge. Not because they didn’t accept me, but because I didn’t know how to tell them what was wrong with me and it depressed me even more because I was basically living a lie. I knew that I had to tell someone, but how. I came home after school one day, and it was after being pushed off the bus and having the bus doors closed right in my face. The bus was leaving and I was late getting there because I got held up in the hallway by a high school jock and was forced to do something that I never imagined in life I would ever do. I won’t go into detail about what happened, just know it was very much embarrassing, in the school hallway of all places.

He threatened me and told me that if I didn’t do it, he was going to run around to everyone and tell them that I am a “queer”.

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The reason I want to share my story is because I want to bring awareness to mental health and stop the stigmas. I want to promote positive outlooks for moms with mental illness. Not everyone is going to be the same just because they have the same diagnosis. And a diagnosis does not define someone.

I have been affected by mental health personally since my teenage years. I recently have been diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. When I read about BPD I thought it sounded pretty accurate and it was nice to feel like I new one of the answers as to why I was struggling. The parts of BPD that hit home the most with me were the criteria of the diagnosis stating that those with BPD have a hard time regulating emotions and also that they can struggle with finding purpose.

As a mom it makes me sad to realize I worry so much about purpose or think so much about what my purpose is, what my meaning is. Why can’t I feel like being a mom is enough meaning? Why isn’t being a good wife is enough purpose? The ruminating obsession with questioning what I should be doing and why constantly flows through my head.

During my recent hospitalization followed by an outpatient program I was dealing with multiple areas of mental illness. I’m also diagnosed with generalized anxiety and major depressive disorder. I was 6 months postpartum, a stay at home mom with my baby and her sister, my other daughter, who is 2. At the time I started to experience postpartum depression as well.

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Hi my name is Amber and I have been diagnosed with multiple mental health issues. Bipolar 1, PTSD, and BPD . I thought my life was over when I hit highschool. Since, then I have been making better choices with my mental health. I no longer want to leave this world but share my story to help those just like me.

My name is Joseph Parham and I’ve been dealing with mental illness since I was about 5 feeling sad alone afraid scared not knowing why I was hearing voices and seeing things. I have self harmed and tried to take my own life. 

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