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The glare of the dressing room's lighting was unforgiving and pointed out every flaw — real and imaginary — on my body. My thighs were too wide, my stomach too round, and my overall body too short and squat. I didn't have the flawless, smooth and stubble-free underarms and legs of a magazine model. I wanted it to magically become wintertime again so I could hide my body under leggings, loose jeans, and oversized sweaters. I kept telling myself that the sizes didn't matter, that these labels were an arbitrary measurement most likely chosen with little thought by some clothing manufacturer in China or Taiwan. But part of my mind wasn't buying it. As I stood contemplating the clothes and the various sizes surrounding me, I felt a little dizzy and my first inclination was to run as fast as I could from the dressing room.
I think there are three broad reasons why people remain in abusive relationships: The victim doesn't realize they're being abused. The victim knows they're being abused, but doesn't want to leave the relationship. The victim knows they're being abused, but isn't ready to leave due to finances, values, fears, or any other reason. I certainly honor each group's position. After all, I've been in each of the three groups at one time or another. This story occurred when I was unsure about leaving and making plans on how to stay married to my abusive husband.
Mood trackers aren't just for depression or bipolar. They can help you recognize and manage panic, anxiety and stress. Anxiety affects people's moods and many people struggle with depressive symptoms as well as anxiety issues. Crucial to treating anxiety is understanding how symptoms overlap and how that affects you.
Traumatic experience of many kinds, as well as repeated exposure to trauma, can lead to PTSD. Our guest, Michele Rosenthal, experienced a very traumatic event at the age of 13 and lived 24 years before a diagnosis with PTSD helped her to heal. 
Today I read another article on a reasonable person's assertion psychiatric medication doesn't work. The evidence is thin, they say, and the studies don't always show a meaning difference between the drug and the placebo. According to them, everyone with a mental illness doing better on psych meds is experiencing the placebo effect. OK, so let's look at this for a minute.
I have always been very open about my past struggles with alcohol abuse and eating disorders. I also struggled with generalized anxiety disorder, panic disorder, and self harm. I often felt like the only one who struggled with so many comorbid diagnoses. The reality is people rarely struggle with only one disorder. We simply do not fit in the pretty boxes of diagnoses, nor are we supposed to.
I attended a meeting last night of a community health care consumers group. Essentially, they are a group that seeks to inform and educate the public on local and national policy making, while also taking the temperature of the public and their view on certain aspects of health care. One of the attendees was discussing all of the technological advancements in medicine in the last half-century, but duly noted was a lack in advancement (aside from pharmacology) in the area of mental health and treating mental illness. This got my wheels turning.
Sometimes borderline personality disorder (BPD) can make us do extremely stupid things. A case in point happened after a heated argument with my mother. I stormed out of the house into a below-freezing night, with only one spare set of clothes (khaki pants and a short-sleeved T-shirt), very little money, and no plan. My mother's anger quickly turned into fear and when I returned the next day, I learned she'd considered filing a missing persons report.
It's no secret that psychiatric illness is treated as a whole different animal than "physical" illness. I find myself comparing the two often, usually trying to determine the best way to cope with Bob and his behaviors. Perhaps the most prominent difference (or, in my opinion, at least the most frustrating) is the elusive nature of psychiatric diagnosis.
So far all my posts here have been from the parental point of view.  As you may know, I am the mother of a wonderful kid, now 29, who was unlucky enough to develop paranoid schizophrenia in his mid-teens (diagnosed at last by age 20).  My book Ben Behind His Voices, is told mostly the parental perspective - though writings from Ben himself as well as  from his sister, Ali, round out the story as best we can. The title of this blog, however, is Mental Illness in the Family - and so I don't want to leave out the experiences of siblings, spouses, and children.  This post is about - and for - you. I have taught NAMI's Family-to-Family course over a dozen times, as both teacher and trainer (guiding others to becomes teachers in Connecticut), and each time I am reminded that my experience as parent shares much with the other "relative groups" - but not all.

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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!