She was always a little different, my Mother. I love her, even now, after all the lies, chaos and pain. I feel she has been dragging me down into her rabbit hole of insanity for awhile now, which is why I distance myself. But the distance has only seemed to make her worse, yet me somewhat better. I do, however drown myself in work, so I don’t really call that getting better, but rather just covering up the problem. My Mother is mentally ill. Her mental pain has manifested into physical self inflicted wounds. She is a picker, most of the time creating her own wounds. She has changed her skin color from the picking, she is 90% scars…all of which she created. She barely leaves her bed, which has created skin ulcers and open sores. It has been 5 months since her last shower and this is a woman who once took two showers a day. She is a pill addict. She abuses this drug and all it does is enhance the insanity. My Mother is only 65 years old, she makes it seem like time is almost up, that she will soon die. I try to get her out of the house, when I do, it is very difficult. She never leaves her bedroom , so when we go out to eat , or to a store, it is very strange. Its as if she cant adjust to people and she just acts strangely, its just so hard to explain. I feel so lost, and the only tears I cry are for her because she is my Mother and I Love her and even through all the pain, I want her so much to get better.
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You Didn’t Make a Mistake
Abusive family, abusive relationships, abusive spouse, self-harm, suicidal ideation, falling in love with the wrong person. We call these things our mistakes in life and are ashamed to talk about these things and we blame ourselves. They are not “mistakes” they are experiences that we learn from. Add these things to the stigma of mental illness and we feel more ashamed. We start obsessing about people we’re not going to see again and obsessing about things we should of should not have done. I’ve had a life with plenty of abuse and abandonment also people I loved deeply who left me for one reason or another. I hurt like hell sometimes. But I’ve made peace with my past and am not ashamed.
*Trigger warning* Struggles of My Mental Illness and Self Harm
I started Self Harming when i was 12 years old at that point i was being abuse by my mom who had a mental illness and i also witness domestic violence between my mom and dad. It was constant thing in my life seeing my dad hit my mom. So when i started to hurt myself of course the state took over and put me in the hospital. I was hospitalized over and over again for different reasons main one being self harming and suicide attempts. I had a total of 270 hospitalization from 12 to 30 years old. I was well known in the mental health field. I also witness racial discrimination at the age of 7 for my race. When i was 27 years old i was sexually abused by my step brother who was 47 years old.
Who Am I?
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.
Change is Possible
I am a survivor of depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, an eating disorder, self harm, and suicide. Although I am a survivor my fight is not over. Far too often people think that a mental illness can be cured and that is far from the truth. Back in October of 2010 I felt as if my life had fallen apart and I was admitted into a psychiatric hospital for the first time. I never really knew that these types of hospitals existed or that the things I was struggling with were common among people my age. I was 16 at the time and I truly felt so alone. From October 2010- May 2013 I was admitted into 6 different psychiatric hospitals. I was admitted so many times that I cannot even give you a number. When I was struggling through those years in my life I honestly did not see myself having a future. I stopped planning my future and I did not care about the long term effects that my choices had on my life because I did not foresee myself living through it all.
I.AM.ME
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.
My story of mental illness begins when I was about 12 years old but I always knew I was different than the other kids that I knew it started when I was molested at age 11 by my friend s father and I went into a depression I started to pull out my hair which is called trichotillomania then things got worst I started to self harm like cutting my wrist things got worst I started to become violent with my family members my behaviors got so bad that I had to go out of state to a treatment center called cinnamon hills youth crisis center I was the for about 11 months I hated it I faked to make it just to get our of that place I then went to a step down place called rancho damacitas in Temecula ca I was there for a little bit I went home but things weren’t better they were the same my behaviors stayed the same I became suicidal I went back to Utah in a different place called copper hills I was there for about a year I aged out then went home things were still the same I didn’t get any better I was still suicidal I was at home I was in and out of placement then I was put into a state hospital metropolitan state hospital I was there for awhile once I went home from there things started to get better I started changing my behaviors I started taking better care of myself I was borderline personality disorder and depression anxiety trichotillomania today I am 24 I live at home I have not harmed myself in about a year and I half I go to support groups therapy and I have taken classes to be a mentor to teach peer to peer classes which I love I and a facilitator to be a nami connections I am loving life and I can’t wait to help others with there journey through recovery because recovery is worth it
Feed The Hope
My name is Carrye and I have struggled with self-harm for over 20 years. I am a 35 year old wife, mother and career woman. I have not self harmed in almost a year and a half. I have found hope in my situation, love for myself and acceptance that I have a mental illness and that is part of what makes me ‘me’.
I have nothing to be ashamed of and so much to be proud of. I am in recovery and I am not alone. I have been diagnosed with depression, borderline personality disorder, bipolar tendencies, anxiety and obsessive compulsive disorder. I have come so far in my journey with the help of medications, a psychologist and a psychiatrist.
My greatest concern about my recovery at this point is how to educate others on the importance of love and support for those living with mental illnesses. I hope to inspire others to share their stories. Because of the nature of self-harm, it can be difficult to talk about because of triggers. I never want to say or do anything that could cause anyone to feel the need to harm. I’ve learned that every day that I go without self-harming is a day to be celebrated. And I do celebrate – I count my blessings and all that I have to be thankful for.
Being Apart of Something Bigger Then Me ***Trigger Warning: Self Harm***
Mybname is Paul. I have been dealing with mental illness most of my life. I have PTSD, DEPRESSION, ANXIET, AND SUICIDAL TENDENCES. I mention all of thes in bold lettering to offer a hand to say, “I do struggle myself.” The blessing is I have a job that allows me to give a little bit of myself back. I have tried to end my life more then once. I know how addicting cutting can be or just the thoughts of ending everything. I am the last person to ask for help. Even when I should be the first, I Apologize if this seems to be all over the place. My mind since my brain injury from assault lt has changed my view on life. I had to relearn how to walk and talk all over again from being in a comma. I do have static paralyses in my right hand. I am so learning how to better myself every day. Sometimes you just need a little help. Due the COVID 19. I have retreated and not looked for any support on my own. I experience a few NAMI programs. I would like to force myself to make time to manage my mental health the best I can..So, for inspiration. I am requesting help. My life is Stagnant and is a lot of struggling on a daily bases. I work as a personal trainer with people with disabilities. It is very rewarding to know that I am doing with folks is pain management. And is rewarding the little gains of lowering someones pain and mental outlook on what they can do to better them self. Personally finically I am barely making it for for now.
Having a Skills Toolbox
Navigating a world that often feels cold, insensitive, and unaccepting of mental illness is lifelong work, a healing journey with ups and downs that has no end. As a highly sensitive person who has lived with anxiety/depression/OCD/ADHD since childhood, struggled with self-harm, substance abuse, and eating disorders, and is a rape and domestic abuse survivor, I have sought out many forms of therapy over my lifetime, both traditional and alternative.
One concept that I became familiar with in Dialectal Behavioral Therapy (DBT) is having a toolbox. Every individual’s toolbox looks different and will evolve over time. It is essentially a list of our skills and techniques for emotional regulation, distress tolerance, mindfulness, and interpersonal effectiveness. I would like to share some of my go-to tools for self-soothing and traversing times of heightened anxiety/the unknown:
Dealing with Mental Illness as a Youth
I’ve suffered (and still have) a good load of mental problems. Anxiety (mainly social anxiety), technology dependency, depression, thoughts of self-harm, and very likely PMDD and RSD (Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria) all have taken a grasp on me. All of what I’ll be saying is on what it was like as a preteen and young teen for me, so that younger ones will know that there is help. So, here’s my story.
I must admit, it was mainly my technology obsession that made my mental health issues worse (I was born with anxiety). With added social anxiety later in my life (around 9) I took to message boards and online role-plays to fill in that gap in my social life. As I grew on, I made more friends online than I had in real life, so I kept on those boards. Soon, that was all my life- just my online persona. My grades slightly slipped. I avoided all real-life social events and even would deny doing ten-minute activities if I could not be on my laptop doing it. When my parents would take my laptop away or ask me to do something else I would spiral into this unstoppable beast of depression and hate, hate for myself and for the world. I would sometimes lock myself into my bedroom with a knife (not like a butter knife- full on butcher knife) with my laptop and imagine harming myself with the knife, often holding it up against my skin, but never actually slicing anything. Soon my parents got me into therapy the moment I made verbal self-harm threats (they had no idea of the full extent of the problem until then). I met this amazing woman, who we will call In. In was exactly what I needed as a mentally ill youth. We spent the first sessions getting to know each other- playing board games, asking each other questions, all of that. Then we started talking about treatment. I found it hard to talk to In about my problems, but she was patient with me and worked through my treatment. While she didn’t automatically cure my problems (for example, we had to make an emergency appointment once with In because I began threatening suicide), she was the best helper I could ask for. Eventually, with some lifestyle changes, support and social advice, I was once a happy girl again. While I still deal with some problems rooting from my mental health, I am much better off than what I would’ve been if I never got help.
What I’m saying here is that there IS help out there. To any youth reading this who suspects that they may have mental issues, speak up about it. No matter how embarrassing it feels, getting help is the best option for you if there is a problem. If my parents hadn’t gotten me help the moment they noticed the full size of my situation, I might not being posting this right now. My only personal advice is to avoid using technology to cope- it’ll backfire on you, likely. Still, there is hope for mentally troubled youth. Be open about your feelings. It may just help you in more ways than one.