One in five adults live with mental illness

You’ve spent your childhood watching your mother or father struggle with anxiety, depression or obsessive-compulsive disorder. You can’t remember if you put the cuts on your arms or if it was something they did. Everything may be going smoothly and suddenly, you find yourself furious, panicky or tearful and you don’t know why. They never noticed the cuts. Your life is often filled with anxiety, uncertainty, and vigilance. You don’t let your father see you cry when his anger breaks your jewelry box; the gift you cherished that he gave you only two months ago. You were plagued by loneliness, vulnerability, and helplessness. You felt unwanted, abandoned, and lost. 

I was convinced no one would believe me, so I hid my chaotic home life from everyone. I was the family mediator, calming down a frightened father and comforting a sad, lonely mother. I convinced myself I was defective or different from other kids. When I was in school, instead of paying attention to my teachers, I’d spend all day worrying about how my mom was doing.

I lived in a permanent state of hyper-vigilance, constantly attuned to my father’s erratic moods and my mother’s helplessness. I chose to stay close to my emotionally unavailable, controlling partners and swallowed my needs to gain their approval. I wish I was beaten. I’d feel more legitimate. Who cares about me? Doesn’t anyone notice? I felt angry. I felt scared. The problem is no one can see my scars. I feel like if I told someone I was verbally abused, they’d think I was just complaining about being yelled at. If I’d been a better daughter my mother wouldn’t have been so sick. If I’d been a better son my mother wouldn’t have been so sick. All I knew was my grandparents were telling me that mum’s sick and dad was telling me that mum’s sick and I was confused, because she didn’t look sick to me.

I need positive feedback

Trauma and betrayal.

Staying out of the way, and staying safe.

Growing myself up.

I found myself in a paralyzing depression. I was suffering from complex posttraumatic stress disorder. There’s nobody in this world who loves me … I don’t have a mother’s love or a father’s love, or, family love… so it wouldn’t matter if I disappeared off the face of the earth.

My mother stopped sleeping when I went to college. Maybe it was my father’s heart attacks, maybe it was me. She’s been withering since. My familial environment was terrifying, and the chronic nature of this negativity exacerbated the effects of the neglect and abuse I endured. I found myself constantly trying to fix him. When I’m asleep and my roommate burns her grilled cheese at two in the morning my heart races as the smoke detector beeps. It takes everything in me to stop the panic building. The tears escape anyway. Growing up with dad, I never felt secure… and I know that I have always been anxious, my whole life. I feared to pass on the illness to a future generation. I’m scared to have kids. What if I treat them the same way my parents treated me? What if I don’t get well enough to care for them?

These were necessary behaviors when I was young, but they aren’t vital for my survival anymore. You can identify and stop participating in abusive relationship dynamics. Try to engage with people who make you feel safe and respected, who listen well and are emotionally available. I can be my own person. Thank your shame for protecting you and ask it to please step back. Your childhood was not your fault. It was ok to put some distance between me and my mother, even though I loved her. I named, validated and felt the sadness in my body as I gave myself compassion. I took a walk through the park and looked at nature. I felt better. It fostered empathy, compassion, and resilience. You had terrible role modeling from your mother. You had terrible role modeling from your father.

I will not inherit my mother’s pain. I will not inherit my father’s fear. She never showed you that we can learn to control our impulses. So I’m worth saving? I’m not irredeemably bad? I will always have ups and downs and have to manage fears and the damage that will always be there, but now I accept it and work with it. I can thank my parents for everything they have done for me. But I no longer owe them anything. I will grow strong. I will get better. I will be happy. And I will remember:

I cannot heal my parents.

This is a Found Essay, meaning that I pulled lines from different essays on NAMI and incorperated them with my own experience wot create a creative Non- Fiction piece.

I have struggled a majority of my life with mental illness. I have been diagnosed with the following: depression, obsessive-compulsive disorder, post-traumatic stress disorder, severe generalized anxiety disorder, postpartum depression, and bipolar disorder. I stand my ground with my battles as they are constantly attacking me, but I am still here. If you or someone needs help, please do not be afraid! I have fought hard to find the right doctors and the right cocktail, do not ever give up! We are all In this battle together, nobody is alone. With love from a battler of this mental madness.  

It all started when I was really young, with a knack for organizing my tea set and Easy Bake oven dishware.  It was soon recognized that I developed Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, commonly known as OCD.  The condition resulted from a traumatic event of abuse, and rapidly progressed into experiencing night terrors and slight insomnia.  These are symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, which I have managed to overcome.  However,  I eventually developed more habits, such as having to turn off all electronics, counting ceiling and floor tiles and red cars.  I kept a “count book” as I used to call it, which was a diary of the objects I would keep count of and the total amount next to it.

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I am writing this letter to you as a spouse and sibling of mental illness.My brother was never fully diagnosed with depression or bipolar, he suffered several years. As a result of not getting proper treatment, his medication was changed very frequently and he  committed suicide. He left behind three children under the age of 13. It’s been really hard to understand the what and the why, he chose to take his life.

I took the next NAMI Family-to-Family program at our local VA hospital, in 2010 it was the first time I had been educated on any form of mental illness. After taking the class I wanted to let everyone that I know about all the information I learned. I took the teacher program and became an advocate for NAMI and I can honestly say that it helped me to heal from my brothers death. I still would like to know why but that’s something I will never know. 

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Dearly Beloved,

I have a long history of suicidal thoughts, ideations, and plans. How am I still here? Because of you! Let me explain! I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Major Depressive Disorder, and Social Anxiety Disorder. It’s a daily struggle. Seriously, the very day I am writing this, it has been a major struggle. I often have intense urges to do some sort of self-harm or suicide. I have found over the past eight years since I’ve known I’ve had depression and such, that what keeps me alive and what keeps me from hurting myself, is you. 

Maybe you struggle with suicidal thoughts and self-harm like myself. I would like to propose that you try writing what I call a “Suicide Lament” instead of a “Suicide Note.” In a typical suicide note, people tend to write to loved ones why they are killing themselves. I once began a suicide note, but as I began to write it to my family, the message totally changed from what I thought it would be. Instead of writing why I was going to commit suicide, I wrote why I was not going to commit suicide. Yet, I did not ignore my nasty feelings. I wrote the brutal truth of it, lamenting that I would not give into my urges. I accepted the feelings and said, “this is so hard and I have such the urge to do it, but I’m not going to do it for the sake of my family.”

I want to encourage you to live for someone. Choose a person. If you can’t think of one person to live for, then I beg you to live for me. I stay alive for you. You stay alive for me. Deal? Let’s live for each other.

I find that living for another person is why I am alive and still fighting. As I said, I struggle with intrusive thoughts, anxiety, depression and other stuff this very day. But thankfully, I don’t live for my own sake. I live for the sake of others. And to be honest, I find my strength in Jesus Christ, Son of the Most High God. Choosing to live for others, despite my suffering, comes from the image of Jesus on the cross. He shows me how to live. He shows me how to die. And it is not by suicide. He shows me what true love is; that there is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friend (John 15:13). So, I get to practice this great love. Laying down my life, ironically, means living my life. I am living my life for you, my friend. And I have so much confidence and this strange other-worldly peace in that. I lament a lot about my pain, struggle, and suffering, but my life does not end in death. It ends in eternal life.

Your sister,

Jacqueline

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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I feel like an alien, I don’t belong, I don’t want to be here, I’m not made for this earth, nobody understands what it’s like because you just can’t put it into words and even when you can you feel like a burden or like you’re crazy or attention seeking.
You know everything and yet you know nothing, constantly questioning who you are because once you think you know that illness comes tapping at your door and you suddenly feel lost again.
From a troubled past of bullying and being made to feel so small and insignificant, guilt trips, abuse, neglect, abandonment, death, violence, a broken home and self harm..
Nothing has ever felt like home.
Always thinking about giving up, never being good enough, wanting to fit in and be loved but at the same time all you want it to be left alone and not hurt anyone.
Being completely fine one day then losing control the next.
Locking yourself away and shutting everyone out and then when you’re finally alone you get hit with depression and crave someone to pull you out.
Problems with your self image and having to grow up too quick.
Abusive or unstable relationships where they react in a way which triggers the things you try so hard to keep hidden away.
Begging and crying to friends, family, hospitals, councillors and doctors to please just fix me I can’t take any more of this.

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Hello, my name is Dylan Perez. I suffer from Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder and several anxiety disorders. I have also been diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Panic Disorder, Social Anxiety Disorder and Somatoform Disorder. Mental illness is a very misunderstood issue. Many people choose to dismiss it because they do not believe it is as serious as a physical ailment. However, that could not be further from the truth. Suffering from mental illness is the most painful experience I’ve ever had in my life.

I was diagnosed with OCD and anxiety at the age of eight. Fortunately, it was not too big of a problem at the time of my initial diagnosis. I was very selective of the food I ate, I washed my hands more than most kids my age, and I was hyper-aware of the cleanliness and hygiene of those around me. Distressing, yes, but it was nothing compared to what I would soon experience.

When I was 18 I began experiencing a number of gastrointestinal symptoms. My symptoms were indicative of peptic ulcer disease. However, after consulting a gastroenterologist and undergoing several medical tests–organic disease was ultimately ruled out. At one point, cancer was a potential diagnosis. Thankfully that was not the case. My doctor told me that my symptoms could only be attributed to stress and anxiety. At least I had a diagnosis. This gave me peace of mind, or so I thought.

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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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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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