Since October 2014 after receiving therapy and meds for one year I decided to join NAMI and become more proactive about ending #stigma about suicide and mental illness, partially at the suggestion of my therapist and partially because  of my own suffering. Maybe stigma is less than it was in the 1960’s and 1970’s but it’s still alive and well. If someone in the family or in the workplace complete suicide no-one wants to talk about it its like that person never existed. I suffered suicide losses both in my family and in the workplace. Due to heredity and both family and marital abuse/neglect I suffer from BPD. Sounds like 5 words to ruin a first date: I have Borderline Personality Disorder. I am still learning how to cope with my intense feelings and how to control some of them. Posting on NAMI and attending meetings has helped me a lot.

I attended the talk by Dr. Stephen Geisler at Zucker Hillside (Queens/Nassau) where he discussed Clozapine treatment for Schizophrenia which I found interesting. I am also reading “On the Road” by  Dr.Oliver Sacks where he tells of living with stigma and of his mistakes but also his ultimate success in his chosen profession. 

I have been trying to get my son, Patrick, social security. He is schizoaffective. Well, he is dual diagnosed. #2 is substance abuse.  I just received “the denial” in the mail from the administration. They refused him because the said he abuses drugs and that when he stops using he’ll recover.  Can you believe that!   He unfortunately starting using before I knew he had mental illness or anyone else in the family knew. I thought I just had this horrible drug addicted rebellious kid on my hands. He always had problems since he was very young but I just didn’t know. It wasn’t until he started having conversations with himself where family members could see that we started looking on the Internet about what that means. He started hearing voices too.   It’s been an uphill battle every since. He does not refuse phych meds anymore, but I cannot keep him off street drugs because he’s a substance abuse addict. His #1 diagnosis is schizoaffective. My brother’s son has recently been diagnosed too. THANK YOU NAMI FOR HELPING ME !  I wouldn’t have been able to go through all this(understanding mental illness) without you.   But now that I do understand I am really sad that other people don’t! 

I care deeply about the wellness of people’s lives and how the act of simply talking and truly caring about someone can potentially save other’s lives.

My first real art lesson was when my father taught me how draw a rose using basic shapes and shading. I don’t exactly remember my dad when I was little except that he was a really jolly fellow and as round as Santa. But today I’m really glad that I got my creativity and corny humor from him. My father had always prompted me to be creative and that was one of the greatest gifts he had left me with.

When I was in 6^th grade and only 11 years old he passed away all too suddenly. I had arrive at the hospital the day he died from kidney problems and there were no last “I love yous” or “I’m proud of you.” I wanted to be strong, I wanted straight A’s and I wanted to do it all for my dad. This was my way of thinking that temporarily helped me to survive my 3 years in middle school. But the years of denial and the bottling in of my emotions caught up to me and strangled my health. I needed help but I wasn’t conditioned to ask for anything. In my graduating year in 8^th  grade I wasn’t only struggling with delayed grieving of my father but I was also having extreme difficulty making speeches as the student body president and preparing for the 8th grade oral presentation all at once.

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Thank you NAMI for being there.  Thank you Phyllis Arends, then the Executive Director for South Dakota for getting myself and my partner, Timothy Flaskamp involved in starting a Connections Recovery Support Group.  Since  almost 5 years ago, Tim and I have become “In Our Own Voice” Presenters and Trainers also.  I had onset at 42, with a Bipolar Disorder, a PTSD, and a Panic Disorder.  All the while, fighting with a back injury. 

After the second surgery, I was told I was terminal.  Yes, the therapist had her work cut out for me, and TIm’s support and understanding was crucial. Oh, and Yes, I am in the best relationship of my life, a gay one with a remarkable man, who himself could be called “Mayo Clinic’s Miracle Man”.  I was overweight, diabetic and the Doctor said a gastric bypass would be the answer as she had to get the weight off me right now. 

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I have been diagnosed in 1999 with my mental illness. It has been a long lonely road. I am glad to find that NAMI exists as a resource because traditional therapy has not been a good fit for me.

Mental Illness has been a part of my entire life. My mother was diagnosed as Bipolar with episodes of psychosis in her 50’s. She passed away in 2011, alone in Georgia. Three years earlier she became so sick that my brother and I tried to have her hospitalized for fear of her hurting herself or others. We called NAMI of Georgia for help. We went before a judge and she was taken to a Psychiatric Hospital. Unfortunately, they released her after 24 hours. After this she decided that we were “dead” to her including her grandchildren. This totally broke my heart. I loved her very much. When she passed away, 5 days went by before she was found in her house.

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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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For the past 2 years I’ve shared Facebook notes about why the NAMI Walk is so important to me. Looking back at them now, it’s a chronicle of how much my friend has been through in that time. Two years ago, she was in the same place that she’d been in for much of the time I’ve known her – chronically suicidal, wanting desperately to die but knowing that those feelings and the voices telling her to do it were a symptom of her mental illness. My note that year was about the 3 AM phone calls, and the incredibly insensitive (and dangerous) responses she got when she tried to reach out for help. By this time last year, she was in a very different place – lost in a period of psychosis, unable to have any kind of conversation that made sense – the result of professionals’ failure to take her (or me) seriously as the voices took over and she started to lose control. My note last year was about my realization of just how strong the stigma and discrimination against mental illness really is – that somebody fighting for her life and sanity could be so easily dismissed as “just trying to get attention.”

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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.