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.

Keep reading

I first began to experience symptoms of bipolar disorder in my early teens. i was put on Lithium while in a hospital and right away the almost catatonic depression I was in began to ease. From there on in, it seemed medication would be the answer to everything that was wrong with me. For years i was on every depression medication available, tricyclics, MAO inhibitors–when one stopped working, I was simply put on something else. Then things got better and I needed no medication through my twenties. i still struggled with lows, but there were no suicide attempts, I was able to live and love, to work and, for the most part, even enjoy life. Then, at the age of 29 I had a manic episode and my medication nightmare began.

Keep reading

I am diagnosed with bipolar disorder, acute anxiety, ADHD, PTSD and insomnia. I was diagnosed eight years ago after the sudden and tragic deaths of both my mother and friend within six months of each other. I attempted suicide almost a year to the day of my mother’s death. I was on life support for four days but I made it through. I have two boys, they were 8 and 13 at the time. I almost left them. I almost left them the way my mom left me. Both my mother and my friend that passed away committed suicide. It would take me many years and therapy and self love to even begin to forgive myself for that selfish choice I made. I always knew I was different. I always felt something was “wrong” with me. That I wasn’t like everyone else. Well I wasn’t like everyone else. It was a psychiatric nurse practitioner that took the time to properly diagnose me that helped me to understand my illnesses, she saved my life. I was actually relieved when I was diagnosed because I always wondered what was wrong with me, why I was different. Being diagnosed made sense to me and gave me hope, hope that my life and behaviors could make sense. I’ve been aware of my illnesses now for eight years. I have been on multiple medications for eight years. I go to all my medication management appointments, I’ve been in therapy for eight years, I have studied my illnesses, I have gone to intensive outpatient therapy, I talk about my illnesses. I do every thing I possibly can every single day to keep myself safe and healthy. But, the reality is I still have bad days. I’ve lost my health insurance several times and gone without my meds which resulted in me getting very sick. I call it my crazy when I get sick. Some days regardless of my meds I still have mania, depression, anxiety, PTSD, and severe insomnia. The thing is I don’t give in to my illnesses. I don’t let them win. They can’t win. I am not my illnesses, I am more than my diagnoses. I want to help others. I want to be an example of what it looks like to live a healthy life while living with mental illness. So I’ll write here on my good days and bad and hope that just maybe one person reads it that needs a glimmer of hope.

My story is a little more complexed than many others. It doesn’t diminish the fact that there are a lot still suffering from mental instability. I was born with Bipolar Disorder but was placed upon many medications to combat my mental illness. Ever since I was a kid, I was placed upon medication to prevent mood swings from occurring. My diagnoses was changed after new symptoms and frequent hospital visits. I was later diagnosed with Schizo-Affected Disorder. I was recently placed in two separate hospitals in a period between March and September for stress related situations. It caused anger and hatred to brew within so I was taken to be treated for that specific cause. I have been on Lithium and other combinations of medications but never really had anyone to relate to that was near myself at the time. I was seeking therapy and psychiatry but felt I couldn’t tell anyone how I felt. Some organizations made myself realize I don’t have to battle it on my own. With those three behavior hospitals in mind, they showed me better ways of dealing with my mental illness. I’m no longer alone and no one else has to feel that way. I would love to be a helping hand in the crusade of battling mental illnesses where ever help is needed. Just by sharing my life story, maybe I would be able to make differences in other people’s lives. I committed suicide in my earlier years and attempted twice more, only to survive and understand my mission in life. To help others, communication is the first key in finding help to understand how to better your life when battling any obstacles. Rather it’s mental illness or substance abuse, I know a great deal about both because I’ve been there a few times. I thought drinking and doing drugs would make things better until I blacked out from mixing alcohol while taking medications. I felt alone and struggled most of my life to find some sort of reasoning behind my ill-fated struggles. I finally woke up in 2018 and said, “NO MORE!” I found my cure through communication and feel tons better now. Speak with someone about your problems and help can easily be found through the right individuals. Thank You fot allowing myself to share my story. 

Hello, I wanted to write to those attempting to understand mental illness. My name is Jori, I spent my entire life not knowing or understanding why most people didn’t see the things I saw or heard the things I heard so I always knew I was gifted and a chosen one in my mind. My mother was diagnosed with 8 personalities and my father had severe mental illness too which I am not sure was ever diagnosed but because of his alcohol and drug addictions, I am not sure if people assumed his addictions were the issue which was just a bandage for the real problems in his mind.

I first began to notice I had something wrong when I was about 14 and I would snap, once attacking my mother whom I hated and throwing her to the floor in attempt to kill her. I was removed from the home and lived with a family which I observed kindness and loving relationships which was my first opportunity to see things in the home I came from were not acceptable as far as neglect and verbal, mental and sexual abuse.

I never graduated from high school and had two children with two different fathers who abandoned me during my pregnancies, leaving me to care for my children as a single parent. I did not know that I was supposed to bath my children and my oldest got an infection and had to have a surgery on his penis which flared up from never being cleaned by the age of 3. My fear was keeping him safe and not abusing him. I also would give my children a cup of chocolate milk and a vitamin in the morning and send them off to school without a lunch. The school finally began giving my children the free lunch programs so they would have something to eat. I never learned to cook or do self care until I observed friends caring for themselves. Life was tough, life was lonely and the loneliness has never left me for some reason I hold a hatred for my parents still to this day and I am 48.

Keep reading

When I was five I was diagnosed with adhd. As if that wasn’t hard enough I was abused by my dad and developed ptsd.but I’m school I got mad fun of and called names I also have bipolar and depression so I used to self harm.But one day when I reached out I became part of the the nami of Middlesex and I always have support to talk to.i am still living in a abuse house but I have faith that one day I will succeed and Suicide is not the answer

*TRIGGER WARNING*

My son is eight years old and has had problems with mental illness which worsened at age five. At this time it began, it was hard for me to take him grocery shopping or completing small tasks throughout the day. It was hard to get anyone to babysit him as he would attack the other children within the first hour of me dropping him off. I thought this was just a phase. I decided just being patient with him and continuing to establish boundaries would help. Until one day I received a call from the school saying they had to call the police as his rage intensified suddenly and he started banging his head on the wall and scratching his face until it bled while saying he wanted to die and he was going to shoot himself with a gun. He was checked into a psych unit that day for the first time. After he was released and on meds he was better, I set him up with a psychiatrist and a play therapist and things went well for over a year.

A little back ground history, at the age of three I had a person I thought I could trust watch him while I went to work. After about the third time I noticed my son had a slight black eye. He told me what happened and I pressed charges. The friend I thought we could trust had told my son that if he tell anyone that he hit him he would kill him. (my son at the age of 8 remembers this quite well and is still upset about it- thus contributing to some of his anger I believe)

Keep reading

My name is Bethany and I was diagnosed with bipolar when I was 13, smile in 2012 and now with schizoaffective disorder. I am now 40 and feel very lucky to be alive. My last suicide attempt was in Nov 2014 by taking over 200 pills. The closest I have come to ending my life. I’m now healing and have a lot of support from my boyfriend. I am a survivor of domestic violence which cost my father his life. I lost my brother in the war and estranged from my children. I live everyday trying to survive and push forward. I love living now and trying to understand my illness. Not feeling guilty about being sick and not getting judged. I share my story so others can be strong to share theirs. 

Mental illness that is? 

I saw this on morning News.  You see most people with Mental illness will do extraordinary things to connect.  The perception of mental illness is the biggest block to connection.  I have written on Facebook, letters to Oprah,Senators,Lawyers. as a result I was forced to resign my teaching career. Since I have been arrested several times, not for deed but for fear. I have been harassed by police at home a dozen times not for deed but for the need to scare. When I hear the dogs bark I’m afraid.  But I still reach out to connect as I am now.  I could use legal help for the mess I’m in.  My civil liberties for the last four years have been exploited and my mental illness targeted.  Mental illness means you think different.  Those differences generate hatred for fear of the unknown.  For four years hatred toward me has grown.  Fortunate for me I saw a therapist right away.  I took my medications as prescribed and I am dealing with those demons that formed me.   Sexual abuse, child neglect, child endangerment, alcoholic parents, schizophrenic sister, ……  literally. 

Keep reading

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.