I’m 32 years old, from New Orleans, a Mother, Wife, Nursing Student, Survivor, and a member of #NAMI! I am living with mental illness daily. I have multiple diagnosis, so do many of the people close to me, including my very own child, mother, father, and Fiancée. I am helping #fightstigma by educating people and reminding US that it is #OK2Talk 💚 I want to reach as many people as I can. I want to be the voice of those who never had the chance, I want to remind everyone that we are not alone nor do we have to be silent… No Shame, #NOSTIGMA! We all deserve help. WE ALL DESERVE TO BE HEARD! My wounds are invisible BUT THEY ARE THERE.

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A few months ago someone asked me if there was anything good about living with depression.  I answered the question but I must admit that I was stumped by it.  What could possibly be good about living with depression or any other mental illness? After all my mental illness has repeatedly pounded me into submission, driven me to my bed for days, and pushed me past the end of myself for thirty-nine years. I have struggled through the seemingly impossible task of finding a decent psychiatrist combined with the stressful experiential process of figuring out the correct medication regime, and cloudy thinking that is the hallmark of a mental health crisis. Then there is the stigma that continues to cloak many of my fellow mental illness road warriors with a shame that only impedes our healing.  The pain of living with a mental illness sometimes exacts a toll that is too high to pay. Viewed through this lens it would be reasonable to conclude that there is nothing good about living with depression or any other mental illness.  However, if nothing else living with depression has taught me to look beyond what seems reasonable or logical to my unquiet mind.  

I am a believer and person of faith.  As such I choose to view my mental illness through the Word of God.  Now I know that I lost some of you when I mentioned God and the Bible.  Before you stop reading, I implore you to consider the entirety of my post.  I urge you to take what speaks to you and leave the rest.

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I live with mental illness due to trauma and abused growing up in a dysfunctional environment. My mother had mental illness. I feel that mental illness is not contagious. It is a health illness as anyone who lives with any other health illness such as; high blood pressure, heart conditions and other health illness. 

When I was tested and hospitalized I still did not want to accept the fact the mental illness may be genetic. I did not want to accept the fact that all the tests doctors ran on me the results came out that I have an anxiety disorder. It wasn’t until after the death of my fifty one year old sister who I watched her die from Squamous Cell cancer that I realize I have mental illness. 

I refuse to take medication. Reason: my best medication that helps me to live a healthy normal life is meditating in God’s word, Memorizing scriptures and applying them to my daily life that helps me and encourages me to press on in learning to live with mental illness. I am on my way in every day trying to live with mental illness and not allow mental illness in control of my life.

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I was officially diagnosed with both OCD and Anxiety Disorder over 13 years ago. I have struggled with being a perfectionist since I’ve been in grade school, which eventually I realized was a part of my mental illness. I am now 26 years old and a few months ago finally “came out” to everyone I know about my mental illness. Currently, my mental illness issues include social anxiety, OCD, and phobias such as agoraphobia and emetophobia. I realized that by sharing my story it has helped take a weight off my shoulder that had been dragging me down for over a decade. I want others to know of the daily struggles I and others with a mental illness deal with. Most days I cannot even leave my house because of anxiety and I’m afraid to eat food due to my phobia of throwing up. Even though every single day is a struggle, I continue to persevere because life is a gift and my mental illness has helped to show me my own strength.

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May is Mental Illness Awareness Month.  Each year it brings up memories that I have tried to forget for over 40 years.  This year I am tearing down the walls I’ve built around my mental illness memories and cycles of suffering.  This year I am being vulnerable and engaging in a conversation about the shame and stigma around mental illness by sharing my personal story with you. 

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Mental illness has been a part of my life for the past 30 years.  There have been many ups and downs.  There have been times I was hopeless and wanted to die.  Mental illness has even consumed my life at times.  Even so, mental illness does not define me.  I am more than schizoaffective disorder, depression, and bipolar 2.  I am not ashamed to have these disorders.  But I am also more than a label.  I am a unique person who happens to have a mental illness.  I do, however, understand that these labels are important, since they are used in giving the doctors direction in the best treatment for me. 

Having a mental illness has been the worst and best thing to happen to me.  It has been the hardest thing I have ever had to deal with.  It has disrupted my life.  It has caused much pain for me and my family.  And it has moved me to the point of almost taking my own life.  Yet, having a mental illness has taught me many things about myself and about life.  I have learned that joy can be found in the simplest of things.  Every day is a day to start over and begin again.  I have seen more love and compassion from family and friends than I may have never seen otherwise.  I am more capable than I would have ever imagined to stand up to the hardest of life’s challenges.   Perseverance has become my friend.  And faith leads to healing for mind, body, and soul.

This thing we call life throws things at us sometimes that can overwhelm us and push us to our limit.  It dangles hope in front of us sometimes, only to jerk it away in an instant.  And just at the moment we think we have it figured out along comes a curve ball in the form of unforeseen relapses and occasional hospitalizations.  Mental illness has robbed me of many years of productivity and happiness.  But it has also led me to where I am today.  And that is a good place.  It is a place that I never dreamed I would be.  I am blessed with a wife who loves and understands me and a son who loves me unconditionally.  I have a sense of purpose and a desire to help others who are living with a mental illness. 

Yes, having a mental illness takes away so much from people.  However, learning to live life with a mental illness can give a new sense of meaning and purpose.  Finding this meaning and purpose is a process that takes time and patience.  Rome wasn’t built in a day.  And discovering meaning in the pain of mental illness won’t come overnight. 

I believe that real meaning in life can be found in the quality, not quantity, of life that we have.  Because, of the treatment I have received and the help of many caring people I am able to experience the quality of life that escaped me for many, many years.  Now, I am convinced there is a purpose for my pain.  My life has meaning.  And, hope, is a common word in my vocabulary.  There is hope.  There is always hope.  Mental illness does not define me.  It is not who I am.  It is something I am learning to live with and overcome every day.  By the grace of God, my future is bright.  And I am determined to shine the light of hope on others who may also be living with a mental illness. 

My life has been affected in several different ways by mental illness. I have been diagnosed with mental illness—I suffer from depression and have been told that I am bipolar. I choose to manage my diagnosis without medication. My 27 year old daughter suffers from a variety of mental illness diagnosis, but the biggest way my life has been affected is by my son being diagnosed with multiple mental health diagnosis at the early age of 4. I noticed that he was different from most children early on (around 8 months) because he hardly ever slept. I was exhausted as a young mother of 2 babies. His sister was 18 months old when he was born. When he was almost a year old, he was diagnosed with spinal meningitis. He had a very scary seizure because of a high fever and was hospitalized. This was the true beginning. From that point on, we were in and out of doctors and hospitals and I really didnt know what I was supposed to do about his behavior. At the age of 4 he set my house on fire at 3 am in the morning, when everyone else was asleep. At this time, his neurologist had him institutionalized. After several short stays in mental hospitals for children, he was admitted and I was told he would probably be there for about 6 months and he ended up staying in that facility until he was about 12 and I finally was able to have him moved. He was hospitalized and then kept in group homes until he was 18 years old when he finally signed himself out. After he signed himself out, he began to stay in trouble with law enforcement. He had the following diagnoses: Impulse control disorder, ADHD, Oppositional Defiant Disorder, IQ of 59- that of a 7 year old, schizophrenia, bipolar, OCD, seizure disorder. After several encounters with the law, DJ ended up in an altercation with his godmother and stabbed her in the shoulder blade and the neck. He did not kill her, but when he saw the blood, he immediately called 911 and waited on the side of the road for the officers to get there and was transported to jail and charged with aggravated assault. After a year in the county jail, he plead guilty to these charges and was sentenced to 10 years due 5 and was sent to prison.  DJ was in prison from 2014 until October 2017 when he died in prison. DJ had turned 25 years old one week before his death. DJ was such a free spirit, with no boundaries and a handful to deal with. He had the goofiest smile ever and really worked my nerves any chance he could, but he was my DJ and I loved him no matter what. I spent most of his life with him at these hospitals, having family therapies and celebrating holidays. DJ’s mental illnesses were not handled appropriately and because of this, my son is no longer here on Earth with me. I miss him tremendously and have been suffering from depression a lot more lately. I tried to kill myself in May by taking 160 pills, but obviously God was not ready for me yet. My oldest daughter has been hospitalized in 4 mental hospitals since last year. My youngest 2 children arent speaking to me because they think I was a terrible mother because I let DJ die in prison. This has absolutely torn my family apart. I have joined NAMI because I want to be a voice for my son, for myself and for my family. I want to open Safe Haven homes in his memory and I need help doing this. 

“Mental Illness, the way we treat it is insane.” A popular motto from NAMI, The National Alliance on Mental Illness. This is a very true statement in my brother’s experience in trying to receive adequate mental health care. There are countless situations throughout his life since he was diagnosed when he was 17 years old, (he is now 42), where the system has failed miserably. The most upsetting thing is the pure lack of respect he has experienced at the hands of those hired to help him. Doctors and other health care professionals treating him as if he has no feelings or intellect. He is very perceptive and knows when someone is disrespecting him. He was denied the proper medication by one doctor because it was “too expensive” for the rinky dink clinic up in the hills of North Georgia where he lives. There are hardly any centers or programs for people like Terry, especially where he lives. The cities you will find more psychiatric hospitals but the care is still minimal. Once they are discharged, depending on how much the insurance is willing to pay, they are sent back into the world, many times without proper support or follow up treatment. This become a revolving door with patients returning to the hospital over and over again because they are not able to remain stable in the environments they return to when they leave the hospital. I have seen this time and time again working in a psychiatric hospital myself.

The latest example of the lack of empathy from the mental health care professionals that are paid to take care of him still infuriates me. Due to budget cuts at the only mental health clinic for several counties, there is no longer an actual nurse to see clients. Patients are seen “virtually” by a nurse through an online service. Now take into account that my brother is super paranoid, especially of cameras and thinking people are constantly surveying and spying on him. So you’re going to try and see him through a screen when he already thinks people are watching him through his own TV? Makes sense. Of course he blew up and started yelling all kinds of obscenities and ran out of the room as fast as he could. And guess what? He is required to see this “virtual nurse” in order to get his medications. Great system, very insightful to the needs of those with paranoid schizophrenia I’d say. Terry has been tossed in and out of hospitals, treated like he is dumb. The last doctor he had was very nice and actually cared which is very rare in his experience. I know doctors are overloaded with too many patients and not enough time to spend with them, and it’s the systems fault. But many doctors also seem to lack the empathy required in working with people with mental illness.
I am not sure where the mental health system is headed, it’s always been at the bottom of the list as far as funding and it’s always the first thing to be cut. But the consequences that result from this lack of attention to the mentally ill are far reaching. Jail have become like psych hospitals, because there is just no where for many mentally ill sufferers to go especially if families have abandoned them which is often. They end up doing something irrational because they are not on their meds. Unfortunately sometimes they end up hurting themselves or someone else. I am not excusing violent behavior, luckily my brother has never been violent, but I feel that the blood is on all of our hands because many of these situations could be prevented if there was adequate help available. Also they are many times not able to keep up with following up with doctors appointments due to lack of transportation or just pure disorientation. If you don’t know what day it is or even what’s real or not how are you going to remember to go to your doctors appointment? And if they miss it they are told they can no longer come back because they are being non compliant with treatment.

My brother has also been in jail a couple of times. One time it was a total mistake. He was very disoriented, had not been on his meds and opened the back door to a car that happened to be unlocked because he wanted to go to sleep. He had been roaming the streets alone and just wanted somewhere to lay down. He was obviously not trying to steal the car and plain to see he was not in his right mind but charges were still pressed and he spent 6 months in jail not getting any of his meds the whole time. Another time he was released from the hospital too soon before he was stable and came home wild and psychotic as hell. He climbed into a tree and started pulling the limbs off while screaming at the top of his lungs. The police were called and he ran into some nearby woods. The cops were chasing him and had their guns out. I was terrified they would shoot him but thankfully they allowed my mom to go get him first and he calmed down and was not resistant to the cops by some miracle. It is sad that a lot of people in law enforcement are not educated on how to deal with someone who is mentally ill. There are many instances where a violent end could be prevented if cops were properly educated on how to interact with someone who is mentally ill.

The latest episode where Terry was put into jail was about a year and a half ago. The story is still unclear what exactly happened. Terry is very cryptic when describing the incident. Basically he was at the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong people.

And the cycle from the streets, jail, psych hospitals and back again continues for many of those with mental illness in this country. Not sure when this revolving door will end…

It is not about being brave in sharing; it is about being real and hoping to end the widely stigmatized thoughts regarding an illness.

Mental illness, the vast array of judged, shunned and misunderstood group of stigmatized illnesses. Suicide, the part of mental illness that is even more judged, misunderstood and stigmatized. The people and families who deal with mental illness need to feel safe to get help and to discuss what is considered the taboo subjects in order for acceptance, so they do not fear asking for help. It is possible and time to have healthy, open dialogue about these subjects and it is time the world learns how. It is a life or death situation. There are many organizations dedicated to educating and creating awareness, please research them.

I suffer from mental illness and all of its ugly, painful effects. My hope is to inspire others to come out and share their stories without fear and to inspire others to educate themselves and try to understand. This is not my way of trying to get sympathy or play victim. This is the most real I can be in summing up a lifetime of pain, about a subject that needs to be discussed openly and publicly in order to save lives and end stigma.

I suffer from major depression that does not stem from situational circumstances and I have suicidal tendencies. Not to say some life changing situations did not affect my depression, but for the most part it is biological.

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I have witnessed mental illness in my family first hand. Although my family tries to keep it quiet and is in denial! I grew up in a family of secrets, like most, mental illness is a hush hush secret. Don’t spill the beans or you’re an outcast. I grew up in a living hell. My mother has a narcissistic personality disorder and my father has ocd, and liked to micro manage. My father was also an alcoholic and was also a sex addict. Parents had a son who developed paranoid schizophrenia, One day my father touched my sister inappropriately. To the outside world, we appear normal, the inner most workings of the family dynamics behind closed doors is well hidden, very, very, well hidden. Don’t upset the apple cart. Because I am strong, I was nominated to be the guarding of my mentally ill brother, this happens to the black sheep of a maternal narcissistic mother. I struggle greatly with relationships, my mother hogged the limelight and couldn’t love. I often read the book, will I ever be good enough, this seems to help me to heal from all the trauma and dysfunctional I lived through and the county would do nothing to help. You out there, you are not alone! Be strong and speak up about the awareness of mental illness, please!!!