The constant worrying and overthinking consumed my life. My fear began to run my life and eat me alive. I was in a horrible mood at all times and did not want to be talked or touched. The sadness surrounding me seemed to be pushing people away, leaving me feeling even more alone than I actually was. Sometimes, I am still like this, hostile and cross, but as I have gotten older, these episodes become less frequent and less severe.
The mania wasn’t so manic and the sadness wasn’t depression. It is interesting how many doctors confused my sadness to the absence of my father, yet there wasn’t an absence because to me he didn’t exist. The more I tried to convince the psychologist it wasn’t the absence of my father the more they pushed towards that explanation. Psychologist and psychiatrist missed so much or maybe they just thought I was too young to be diagnosed Bipolar. How could a five year old be bipolar? How could a nine year old start cutting? How could an eleven year old try suicide for the fist time? How could a thirteen year old try it again? It is still unknown how they missed all the signs. At age of 13 I went into treatment to manage my depression. I was diagnosed depressed and was prescribed an antidepressant that only made me feel worse, the high energy didn’t stop, my thoughts still raced and more than ever I still wanted to be gone. I felt crazy, lost, not your typical teenage phase of being misunderstood. This went on for years and finally I became and
Westdel “Welcome to Westdel Psychiatric Ward”; the sign was illuminated from my headlights, for it was only the break of dawn. I found my parking spot, pulled in, and turned off the car. I was a little bit early for my morning shift, but I planned on getting a head start for the day, plus a new patient had checked in.
In the middle of the room, I’m surrounded by strangers. The crowd is it’s own entity, swaying from one corner to another, and I become nothing more than just another body in the quaking mass. The clutter in my mind is sorted and replaced by the chaos on the floor. My worries and fears, the cycles of thought that loop within me quiet and dissipate. Faces blend with sounds, and the swirling lights sing away my solitude.
Growing up with mental illness is one of the most challenging things I’ve had to tackle so far in my life. It is exhausting and almost mind numbing, to be able to constantly reassure myself that how I am feeling is okay and that I am doing exceptional took a great deal of patience, determination and many sad days. As tiring as it was and often times I just wanted to stop, I persevered because one day I want to help others who feel the way I do and have a hard time coping with their mental illness. Managing my depression and anxiety and turing these negative thoughts into something healthy and encouraging is one of my proudest accomplishments in my life so far. burdens me and often time makes me feel as if it is impeding me from going outside
I agree! Conditions have improved and certainly the corrupt institutions that were so fraught with abuses have now left our landscape. Unfortunately, in many ways, our jails and prisons now stand in their place housing untold numbers of people more in need of therapeutic treatment than castigation. There is no doubt my age played a role in my distress as I was still looking to my mother as an anchor to ameliorate the confusing and surreal nature of what I was seeing. Additionally, with regard to stigma, I clearly remember not wanting anyone to know my grandfather was dealing with a mental disorder. Somehow, his mental illness would spill over onto me and I would become tainted, my mental competency would be questioned. Does it run in the family?
Allow me to set the stage. The main character is a 22 year old female college student -- senior to be exact. She enjoys animals, learning, and connecting deeply with others. This young woman is looking forward to a career in social work, specifically with those who are suicidal.
Although, I continued to encounter each stage of life event markers, and surpass each one to go onto the next (Broderick & Blewitt, 2015). As in life we develop more each day, during the adult years cognitive and socioemotional functions will continue to develop and evolve from the ages 30’s and beyond (Broderick & Blewitt, 2015). When I reached the age of 30 years old I decided I wanted more from life, than just a menial job, I want a career. At the age of 30 years old I started LPN school, my children were old enough that they could help around the home while I studied. One year later I graduated from nursing school as an LPN, this was a great accomplishment for me, I was then able to pursue employment that would matter in the lives of others.
Since the say I started in the Mental Health Program here at Brooklyn College the one thing I have been terrified about was being alone in the room with the client. It’s not that I don’t think I would do a good job or not know what I’m doing, its just a very stressful and possibly embarrassing situation. When I’m really nervous, stressed, or embarrassed I tend to do very foolish things like repeat words, my face turns beat red, I jumble my words and totally forget what I am about to say or want to say. It would also be the first time I was truly alone with a client, even when I did intakes with my internship there was a supervisor in the room with me.
Sometimes I miss being sick; The grimiest part of me wishes I had stayed in that familiar city of gray and mental illness and whatever the opposite of healing is. Where there was nothing to laugh about, but plenty to write about. I've considered myself to be recovered from my eating disorder for three years, but I still write about it in present tense. And for once, I don't want to write about this. For the first time I am embarrassed, instead of proud of all of the mad things I've done for happiness. When a friend at dinner makes a casual comment on calories, the scoreboard in my head illuminates with numbers again. Once, I cut a ribbon the size I wanted to be and wore it around my waist like a bracelet. Bathroom scales make me feel nostalgic,
My uncle explains to me that she left without a warning and got on a plane. She left the house in the early hours of the morning which awoke the housekeeper. She refused to answer any of the housekeeper’s questions and quickly shut the door. She decided to call my mother seconds before the plane departed to briefly tell her that she was leaving Switzerland for good.
First, we got the phone call that my great aunt Janelle was sent to the hospital in an ambulance at two o’clock in the morning. We got the next phone call a couple hours later telling us the doctors didn't think she was going to make it through the night which she fought through the night. We went up to see her the next day in the hospital, she was sedated, intubated and had a pacemaker keeping her alive. Her kidneys had failed and she had to do dialysis throughout the week. We continued to love on and get closer to family and friends more than we normally do. Throughout the week she kept getting better one day she began to open her eyes acknowledging that we were there, we knew she was a fighter and she was going to fight through this. The
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.