Blogs
In 1982, I attempted suicide after a failed relationship and ensuing depression. I was taken to the emergency room and made to swallow syrup of Ipecac. After a night of throwing up and crying, I was told that I needed to see a psychiatrist.
I was only 16, and I hated the thought that I was different.
That feeling has never left me.
It’s the time of the year when everywhere you go you run into a “Back-To-School Sale” sign or catch yourself singing a catchy, yet annoying, commercial jingle. This time of the summer can be tough because even though I’m not going back to school in any way, shape or form, I find myself being drawn towards new clothes and bedroom décor.
However, it’s also tough being surrounded by the not-so-terrific memories of high school – memories linked to self-harm.
Critics call it “a head-first assault” on the First Amendment. Advocates believe it will slow our national descent into narcissism, selfishness, and spandex. Love it or hate it, the SWAT (Stop Writing Annoying Twaddle) Program is here to stay.
Brainchild of Reginald Klaxon, Secretary of Psychology, SWAT is an aggressive response to what social critic and handball champion Chance Bazinga has memorably described as, “a bubbling broth of primordial ooze, an orgy of raw id pouring forth across forest and field, an endless outpouring of detritus, meaningless minutia, and abominable, disingenuous self-aggrandizement on a scale unknown since the waning days of the Roman Empire, wafting the perfume of decomposition through cacophonous boulevards and abandoned chicken coops. I refer, of course, to the Internet, and more specifically, the practice known as blogging.”
Secretary Klaxon stunned the White House Press Corps when, before beginning the SWAT announcement conference, he asked aids to remove every electronic communications device in the room and deposit them in a brine-filled pickle barrel reserved for the occasion. Now assured of undivided attention he began thusly.
I started writing this blog exactly two years ago--August, 2011. It was a time in my life largely defined by change: the end of long-term relationship, a new home in a new location, a memoir being published about mental health and addiction; I was sober after years of drug and alcohol abuse. I was more fragile then than I am now--a little more frightened of the world. Writing this blog--sharing my experiences and you sharing yours-- made my life a little easier. I felt less alone.
I have moved four times within the past two years. I have struggled to stay sober and repair relationships and practice the self-care I preach in these blogs. Change is difficult, particularly when you live with a chronic mental illness, but this blog remained stable. It was one of things I could count on when life seemed to get crazy as it invariably did.
I learned more about myself by writing this blog---more about recovering from mental illness--then I have living with it since I was diagnosed at the age of twelve. I also learned more about others. I owe much of this to the wonderful people that have read this blog, who have shared their experiences and made us all feel less alone, and also to healthyplace.com for providing me with the opportunity to delve into issues that are important.
On Tuesday, I started studies for my Master's degree. (In expressive arts therapy, if you were wondering.) And around the country, schools and universities are returning to session and one of the most common "get-to-know-you" questions is "What did you do this summer?" If you were lucky enough to go to an eating disorder treatment center during the summer months, or during a school break, you might be able to make something up. But what if you're in a career and just had to take off three or six months for eating disorder treatment? How do you explain that?
Vacation as self-care? Regular breaks from the same routine of dealing with and managing your child's mental health is necessary for you to recharge. It also allows your special needs child an opportunity to just be a kid. While vacation can be a great thing, it can also bring its own challenges.
Learn how to visualize and create images that will help you become more confident and reach your goals in simple, yet effective ways.
The purpose of life is to live it. And taking risks is part of living to the fullest. Life would be pretty boring without challenges. Doing things builds confidence.
A ship is safe at dock, but if it spends too long there, the bottom rots out.
PTSD research can be seriously misunderstood, or even incomprehensible (yes! it's true!). Yet there are some simple tactics one can use to avoid this: know what "controlled research" is trying to do; be aware of the necessarily distorted view such research tends to offer us; know the single most important statistic you need in such research to make sense of things; know the kind of research we really need (so you can recognize it when you see it); know the limitations of each of the two sorts of language research uses; and, finally, appreciate the difference between belief and knowledge.
I have had a lot of bad bipolar days in my life. Days when I was incapacitated. Days when I couldn’t make food for myself. Days when I couldn’t work. Days when I couldn’t talk to anyone. Days when I just couldn’t function.
On these days, I’m sick. And in some regards, it’s a type of sickness that is like many others. I feel like trash, I don’t want to move from the couch and everything hurts – that could describe a cold or the flu as well. But as it happens, it also described a bad day for depression or bipolar disorder.
But here’s the thing, when someone calls and asks if I want to have coffee, saying I’m too depressed isn’t seen as acceptable. That’s seen as weakness. That’s seen as something wrong with me. Whereas, if I said I was sick with a cold, that would be alright, because, after all, everyone gets colds and when they get them, it’s okay not to feel like socializing.
And I can’t tell you the number of days I’ve said I was sick with the flu, or a cold, or a stomach bug or anything but sick with bipolar. But really, that’s what I am.
I believe she will only be able to rid herself of her demons, and hopefully her BPD as well, when she's ready to confront the abuse of her father. If she can put the blame where it belongs, she may stop projecting that victim/perpetrator cycle on the present men in her life. These demons are a metaphor for the purgatory she has created for herself. That reality has consequences in the real world, but it need not be real in the tangible sense. Exorcising her demons will require the expenditure of real physical energy and probably the destruction of aspects of her personality. If this ever happens, and it's possible but not probable, then these demons will evaporate. They are only as real as one's personality is real. In short, reality is not the question, it's what you make of the things you feel to be real.