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In order to set boundaries, we have to believe we are worth having boundaries. We must believe that we have the right not to be violated. We must have the self-esteem to say no.
There are two sides to every coin, right? Having offered up my list of what I, as a parent, wish educators knew about childhood psychiatric illness, it seems only fair to play devil's advocate.
Anxiety and worry are a part of life. Properly functioning anxiety helps us find our courage and overcome limitations. But sometimes, anxiety becomes dysfunctional and leads us down a road toward debilitating, circular thoughts and constant preoccupation with past or possible life events (read about anxiety attacks and anxiety attack symptoms). To top it off, when you discover that your anxiety is out of control, you may also feel anxious about your anxiety.
My response to a recent comment asking, "should I homeschool my mentally ill child?" I, personally, would not. Here's why:
My last post was about accepting the limitations that having a mental illness puts on us. The examples I used in that article were: Not watching upsetting movies Maintaining a strict bedtime (not staying out late) Not watching / reading the news These are three of things I do to maintain stability. As commenter Mary Ann stated, these limitations might be considered enduring the illness rather than suffering per se. But I say tomato, tomahto. But regardless, these limitations are self-imposed and the rules they bring about are there to keep me safe. In response to a commenter’s question, here are a few more rules I obey:
My oldest son, Bob, is ten years old and in the fourth grade this year. As such, I have been involved with our local public school district for five years. Since Bob's formal diagnosis (mood disorder, ADHD) in the spring of his kindergarten year, I have been working with--and against--teachers, counselors and school administrators in an effort to allow my son the best quality education possible.
My physical health doesn't give me trouble as often as my mental illness. I spend a lot more time dodging mental bullets than a cold or flu. But sometimes we get sick. Physically sick. Sometimes, when everything is going well, we wake up feeling like we got hit by a semi.
This week is National Eating Disorder Awareness week, and I think it is important to highlight the link between eating disorders and substance abuse. As a person who struggled with both, I feel it is important to bring awareness of statistics and research in this area.
National Eating Disorders Awareness Week 2012 is this week. This year's theme is "Everybody Knows Somebody." According to the National Eating Disorders Association, ten million women and up to one million men have anorexia or bulimia, and millions more struggle with binge eating disorder. That means that you most likely know somebody with an eating disorder.
About 6 months after I left my abusive husband, I met a man who I've come to love. The loving part was easy - he's a complete turn-around from my ex-husband. My new love treats me kindly, he cooks for me and my children, he's generous with his time and affection. He tells me I'm beautiful and doesn't expect me to fall over myself with gratefulness that he said something nice to me! Perhaps better than those cosmetic qualities, he wants to hear my thoughts, he asks me how I feel, and, after I tell him these once-guarded intimacies, he does not tell me how misguided and delusional I am.

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Tali
I look forward to being unconscious for 4-6 hours every night (if I'm lucky). I don't dream. It's the only relief I have. I used to enjoy video games, but my husband hated me playing them so I gave them up. I had my own business but my husband told me I had to stop, so I did. He walks out on me whenever I don't do what he wants. He's allowed to have hobbies and I better not complain, just take care of the kids. My whole life had to be given up because it suits him and I've become nothing more than a maid and a babysitter. I love my kids but I just don't think I can take him finding some new thing to take away every September when he starts ignoring all of us because of the fair he acts in every year that time. He straight out told me this year he loves fair more than me. I don't have anything left to try for, I'm not a young lady anymore. I don't want to die, but I don't want to live...live...survive anymore. I doubt what I've been doing can be qualified as living. Thing is the rest of the year he's good to us. But somehow it's always me, I'm the problem, he just turns it around. Always carry on, carried on before, like a machine. This time I don't have it in me. I swear if he says one more time to me if doesn't get to do one of his many hobbies he'll get depressed and kill himself I'm just going to lose it. He doesn't care what I've been carrying these past 12 years. Doubt he noticed. He didn't notice when he left for fair with me fresh out of abdominal surgery to take care of a newborn, 1 year old, and 3 kids under 10. Apparently it interfered with him so much he was annoyed with me for not being fully healed from it after only one week. Not sure who told him people heal from major surgery in a week, but whatever. I doubt he even notices unless it inconveniences him, but he'll only get mad if it does. I wish I had some helpful or inspiring words, but I don't. I'm just existing with no reason anymore. I had reasons before, but they don't make sense anymore. I want to cry, but even that is too much effort.
Roxie S. Mitchell
Exactly what I needed to read right now. After all, I've grown up being abused and then screamed at for crying afterwards, so this article is very insightful because it helps us realize that crying is actually a normal part of being a human. Thank you for this!
Sandy G.
To Kelly Torbitz-Your parents punished you properly by making you wear the diaper and rubberpants.As a mom,i have heard of older girls being punished with diapers and rubberpants and i think it helps shape them up.The diapers and rubberpants are not only worn for punishment,but also to make girls feel cute and little girlish.
Word Warrior Mama
On the other hand . . .

I read this book many years ago, just as I was entering the turmoil of remembering, questioning and doubting myself all the way (as I'd been covertly taught over a lifetime). I happened to mention to my two sisters one day, "This is so strange but I've been diagnosed with PTSD." Both my sisters surprised me by responding, "Me too."

THEN I happened upon an old book manuscript that my now deceased father had written (not published), wherein the protagonist was obviously based upon himself and he rapes his "fiancee," who had my unusual name. Yes, truly.

Then I made myself look at the peculiar memory I always had where he violently threatened me but somehow I had never been able to recall what came before or after the episode. I had to admit that was a bit strange.

The pressures and powers to forget sexual abuse are great, both in family and society. In fact, I've come to the sad conclusion that the vast majority of survivors never really deal with their childhood wounds (a neglect for which there are always repercussions).

To critique an encouragement of people trusting their intuition in such matters is really getting the prescription dangerously wrong.
Christina
I hear your voices. Can you please help me let me know what medication you’re on. You could save lives with this information. My email is christinacrawford555@hotmail.com
Thanks!