Personal Narrative: My Mental Illness

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

There are times in everybody’s life when they feel down, worthless, or question themselves to a point of insecurity. With clinical depression, these feelings of insignificance are perpetual rather than circumstantial.

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.

An accomplishment or event, formal or informal, that played a key role in shaping who I am today was we when I no longer treatment for my mental illness – Major Depressive Disorder.

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.

One of the thoughts about insanity says that a clear sign of it is when something is repeated over and over again with the person expecting different results. If this was true, then I’m the crown prince of that kingdom. Saying that this was going to end badly is clearly as perfect of an example of my insanity as any. I folded up another note, I had spent days composing in hopes that the only girl I had ever thought about awake and asleep would consider going out with me on a date. What made this insane is that I have been writing the perfect note for the past three years.

“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.

Mental health disorders can affect anyone regardless of how much we make, what we do for work, or where we live. It is also very difficult for most people to be able to afford to pay for mental health services. In a recent article in the newspaper it mentioned how people are having a hard time to afford rents in this area. When it comes down to be able to pay your rent, paying for mental health therapy, or mental health prescriptions, rent will win every time. I work full time and I looked into how much it would cost for ongoing mental health treatment if it were necessary, and the cost is astounding, and that’s with insurance. There are regular visits with Primary Care Physicians that are required to monitor your progress which has a

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 was slowly (or maybe rapidly?) dying. As as much as I thought I wanted to die, I wasn't ready. I opened up to my aunt and uncle. I told my parents. And in August 2012, half my life after my first suicidal thought, I admitted I wanted help. I began seeing my wonderful therapist, who diagnosed me with depression, anxiety, and panic disorder. After a few months of multiple-times-per-week sessions, it was more than clear that my brain was chemically balanced, so I was prescribed antidepressants. I kept getting better, but I would have extremely low, suicidal days for no reason. It was something I didn't have an explanation for, but tried to brush it

At the age of thirteen I was diagnosed with major depression and anxiety, I have spent the past five years in and out of doctor’s offices, counselor appointments, and therapy sessions. Throughout all of my experiences I have tried to prove to doctors, my parents, and myself that I don’t need medication to act like a “normal” human being. I would start taking my medication for a few weeks and while I was on a high note I would slowly wean myself of the drug in the hopes that my illness would be cured.

Years ago, I found myself with immense anxiety and intense gloomy emotions. Concerned, my mom took me to see

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.

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.