Personal Narrative: The Acceptance Of Insanity

I’ve always been passionate about understanding others; stepping into their shoes and seeing, thinking, and appreciating the lives they live. I think it is important to take that extra step and see things from a different point of view. It is the only way to achieve a true understanding. I

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.

I woke up in my bed at the Stephens Adult Psychiatric Unit in Joplin, Missouri. I had dreamt of being back home the previous night, so it was crushing to wake up and realize where I was. It was my 2nd day there, but it felt like much longer. Most psychiatric units have a similar structure. During the week, there are group activities that preoccupy you enough to make the day somewhat bearable. The weekends are worse, because there is nothing. You can either sleep or watch television in the day room with the other patients. The lack of activity constantly reminds you that you’re trapped. That all of your belongings have been taken away. That you are not allowed to go outside at all during the duration of your stay. That you are virtually entirely isolated from the outside world. The only thing I had to look forward to during those days was the hour of visitation with my parents twice a day. You’d think a psychiatric unit would be the one place on

If you were to see me walking down the street you would never guess that I was in foster care. I dress and act like your everyday 17 year old, and in a way I am. Except I was placed in foster care when I was 15 years old. Scratch that I put myself in foster care when I was 15 years old. I bet you’re asking “why”? “Why would you do such a thing”? Well my mother was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia also known as disorganized schizophrenia. Just in case you don't know disorganized schizophrenia is characterized by incoherent and illogical thoughts and behaviors, so when you are 15 that's not a good situation to be in. My mother couldn't keep a job therefore she could not support us.

No one considered that Schizophrenia was the ailment that tormented my brother. We assumed it was just stress and anxiety that stole his nights, his sanity, and his joy. We all believed that it was just a phase my happy, go-lucky, comic brother would get over. After all, doesn't everybody go through these rough patches of their life, and like a phoenix tried through a fire, rise triumphantly? That was my hope for my brother. But as the days progressed, fatigue mixed with delusions consumed my brother’s thoughts and disrupted his ability to function. As a sister, I felt helpless watching my big brother, my hero, and my confidant going through the greatest battle of his life - mental illness. Episodes and psychiatric breakdowns were constant,

ut only because of my boyfriend I talk to a therapist But I'm not allowed to talk to a doctor Last time I did She prescribed me with medicine But, I wasn't allowed to take it due to my mother My mother and I have never had a good relationship We've never said the words "I love you" to one another Or even hugged one another What I'm trying to say is I need help And I have no idea how to get it I've been clean from self harm for quite a few months now and I'm not sure how I feel anymore

a muzzle brake, and five magazines. Also, two shorty double barrels with the quickloader”. The quickloader is a machine that attaches on the side of your hamstrings. It has two compartments in each loader, and in the compartments goes shells. You simply stick the inside latch of the double shotgun against it, and it ejects the shells into the chamber of the double barrel for a quick reload.

Remembering an Event: Schizophrenia “Junior! stop laughing”,” Junior walk normal”, “junior eat”, “Junior did you wash your clothes?”, “JUNIOR! Don't smoke in the house!” These were many phrases that I heard in my life when my schizophrenic cousin came to live with us. To this day were not entirely sure if he only heard voices, sometimes we think he saw things too. He was diagnosed with schizophrenia in his early twenties and I was around seven years old, I honestly don't remember him ever being sane, but you could see the change in the people around us. His parents wouldn't accept it and refused to buy him medicine because “God had his reasons”, and my cousins (they're quite a bit older than me) never really accepted it and neither did my grandpa but he just shook his head and continued what he was doing. But my mother, she understood, she was a nurse who worked at Life care for a while so she knew how to deal with people who are “different”. So we took him 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

Reading your post confirms my decision to enter into Mental Health Counseling was a good choice. Your desire to work with individuals from diverse backgrounds and using a wide range of techniques was what drew me to this specialization as well. It is interesting to note how you were considering very specific programs before settling on mental health counseling. I am also inspired by your initial consideration of entering into addiction counseling to assist individuals like your brother. My family has also inspired me to enter into counseling as well. They are the reason why I have been as successful as I have been in the past, and they are also the reason why I have sought out counseling for my own betterment.

This is an example of the amazing stuff that this thing can do. Look at this insanely long and overly complicated and terrible run on sentence. This thing is going to grade the FUCK out of that paper we all know youre procrastinating on, like I was when I found

It’s really hard to try and be a normal, functioning person when you’re constantly reminded of something that happened years ago. It’s hard to even try to make sense of it when your brain blocks out things it doesn’t understand. Did I consent? I don’t think so. Did I say no? I don’t remember. I felt like I said no. I don’t remember. I felt like he pressured me. It didn’t feel good. It hurt. Sometimes I can still feel it happening, which is hard to try and hide when you’re in public and you can feel the pressure of someone who was once there.

Before stepping into KBMC today I had very mixed feelings. When I see Psychiatric units in movies or hear people talk about them they are portrayed as a horrific and extremely dangerous place to be. My biggest fear for this clinical experience was that a patient would become extremely violent

Chasing Normal It all started with my nose. The flat bridge was constantly squished and prodded by my little fingers when I stood in front of the mirror. My nose- short and wide- was just the first physical trait of mine that I could differentiate from my peers. In every yearbook that showcased our school’s students, I always stuck out like a sore thumb. Physical features such as this were the only thing I could compare between me and my friends, who were all undeniably white in our Minnesotan town. They had narrow noses with high arches that crinkled when they smiled, which was the image of perfection for a flat-nosed outsider like me. To a child growing into the period of life where everything revolves around outward appearances, the worst possibility was being an outlier in a sea of people complying to the same standard.

1st narrative- What the video is implying that being forthcoming and disclosing the fact that you have been treated for a mental illness, OCD along with depression. That required you to stop working due to unreasonable thoughts and fears or obsessions, and go on disability. At this