Personal Narrative: A Career In Psychiatric Mental Health

It’s a struggle to get out of bed sometimes, I often just sit there struggling to comprehend the sequence of events which have taken place over the past year. I mean, I’m used to this now, its normal to me, but the fact that this has happened and that I am now ‘disabled’ as people would put it is hard to get my head around. And every time I look down I’m reminded of the pain and the struggle I faced, it’s a physical scar which links me to my grueling past, a physical and emotional journey.

Mental illness—the one thing that no one prefers to have. However, one in five adults, or 43.8 million people, in the United States experience some form of it in a given year (NIMH, 2015). Many close friends and family members have dealt with mental disorders; because of this, my perception and, in turn, how I act around these people has greatly been affected just by hanging around them. Additionally, I believe my personal faith has also shaped how I view those suffering from mental disorders. I hope to share my views on mental illness by demonstrating my experiences with family and friends, as well as with the Church.

“I want to live.” She said. She lifted her feet off the small coffee table and set them gently on the floor as she continued to look through me, too interested on the inner workings of her own mind.

Bob is in a cop car going to the mental hospital for the 100th time. Bob is asking the police officer Aleck.

Mental health nurses provide care and support to people with emotional and mental disorders. These nurses must be very skilled communicators, especially when speaking and listening to patients. Mental health nurses organize treatment and therapy for their patients. This job of mental health nurses involves providing care to patients, a four year college or university, & the ability to be patient and compassionate towards patients.

I loved your post. I completely do this all the time and I hoped your dinner turned out awesome. I do think didn’t think it was as humorous, some steps you could have taken to help with your preoccupation is responding, and being mindful of your coworker. You were off to the right start by asking her questions but I think you should have responded to her and it would have helped your mind not to wander. “Mindfulness is being fully present in the moment” (Wood, 2016). Even though you were hungry and dinner sounded wonderful, I don’t think you were fully present in the conversation. Great post.

Like most of you guys mentioned, the most impressive idea that stayed with me is once you are diagnosed with mental illness, you are first a psychiatric, and no matter what you do, other people will interpret your action through a psychiatric lens. According to Pat’s story, mental health professionals perceive individuals with mental illness as a disease rather than a person. They simply treat patient’s disagreement as a further proof of their mental illness. All of those professionals’ words and actions can erode patient’s hope on recovery and their future. They may start to believe that they are really ‘badly ill’ and cannot go back to their normal life, which can have negative influence on personal recovery. Through this week’s readings

I’m sorry Ms. Wiles for causing your door to creak late into first period my sophomore year. I’m sorry the last three months of second semester I was only ever on time or actually there four times. I wanted to go to your class but I got anxiety thinking about walking in and everyone staring, then you having to redirect everyone's attention. I also didn’t want you to be upset with me. So I just thought showing up the next day wouldn’t be as stressful. At the time I was careless and had this mindset of oh well, I’m late, might as well not show up. Or I’m late might as well be extra late. This is actually my second time writing this apology letter. I never gave you the first one because I just felt awkward giving it to you, but I’ve had more

Before I pursued a career in social work and I had the pleasure of learning about the elderly, I was very biased towards them. This is mainly due many negative stereotypes and connotations that I heard about them and I had very little experience dealing with them. My grandparents died when I was very young, so I was never around any senior citizens. I was under the impression that most elderly was surly, rude and dismissive of young people. Originally, I had thought that the elderly was uninterested in keeping up with today’s society and preferred to live as social outcasts.

There was a time when I had nobody to forgive, nothing to darken my thoughts. The majority of people do not experience things like genuine betrayal, or sheer anger, if they experience it at all, until their later years. Along with this, people usually do not experience these types of traumatic events with somebody in their own family. However, this was my reality at the age of 14 years old. Now, this is not going to consist of me feeling sorry for myself, or asking for sympathy, because it would defeat the purpose of everything that I have already had the opportunity to learn. They say that life is not so much about what happens to you, but more so about the way you react to these things. Now, this situation was not just a friend who gossiped

I never really thought of myself having a mental illness until death had struck my family. When everything was right in the world, death crept in on me and caused the unthinkable; sorrow and pain. The illness had struck...depression. I couldn’t bear to talk to anyone about what I was going through. I bottled up all of my emotions and hid behind closed doors. Depression is something I thought I would never come to in my life, but with all the struggles I faced, it occurred.

It was a very long day of airports and travelling. I finally sat down to wade through my millions of emails and got yours. Highlight of my day as I wasn't sure my little memo paper made it through. I'm don't know who owns that first email but I agree they must be wondering.

The sound of breaking glass startled my eight year-old self, lying on the edge of the bed. I opened my eyes and stared at my room. Hearing the door to the next room slam shut, I figured it was my mother, who had lately become a frequent customer to the guest room next door. After waiting for what seemed like eternity, I threw off my bed sheets and tiptoed towards the dining room. Instinctively, I bent down and carefully touched the floor. A small, rough piece of glass pricked my finger. Keeping my finger on the glass, I waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I could see several shards of glass scattered across the floor.

I still remember those painful words from my grandmother: “It’s all in your head darling, you need to be stronger than this! How will you manage to survive the other challenges to come? They’ll be far worse than something as trivial as this.” Her argument always was that if everyone else could get through it, I could too. Every time I would talk about my interests in pursuing clinical psychology as a career, she would roll her eyes at me. She would repeatedly lecture me, “Why don’t you do something meaningful? You’re so smart my love, don’t let such amazing brains go to waste!” She always told me that mental illnesses were nothing but an excuse that people would use to get out of difficult situations. Those people just didn’t try hard enough

She was layin in her bed, staring out of the window looking at the purpley sky. Small drops of rain were slowly dripping down her window. Like an ideal normal family on a winter night, where families are to sit together in the living room, watch a movie and where the children are taking over the heater, here she was, in her bed looking out of the window and crying. She dreamt of living a life like that but knew that she wil never get the chane to. Not because she doesn't have a family, she does, she has her mum, dad and younger brother. This girl is sick of having to wake up every morning and face the world, she was sick of getting up and going to school. She was slowly making her way into depression and anxiety, without knowing it. She can