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At some point in the past 40 years some (undoubtedly) new-age guru decided saying nice things to yourself in the mirror was the key to happiness. "Yay me. I'm so great. Look at me go." Really? Seriously? You need to look in the mirror and say that to yourself? And you're buying it? Are you four?
It takes two to tango. I despise that phrase because it implies equal responsibility for the abuse inherent in an abusive relationship. It is true that for every abuser, there is a victim of abuse. If the victim refused to stay, there would be no abuse at all. While that is true, it puts equal responsibility for the abuse onto the victim, and that isn't right (Things Victims Say and Do To Cause Abuse).
Our guest, Chrisa Hickey, is a mom like so many other women, but in some ways she is quite extraordinary. She parents a son with schizoaffective disorder, Tim, who was diagnosed at the age of 11. She shares with us the challenges of parenting a child with schizoaffective disorder (bipolar type), what the journey has been like and the reality of what they will likely face in the future.
The only wrinkle on my forehead is a vertical line a little higher than the bridge of my nose, right of center. When I was younger, it would show when I was displeased, angry, or pouting. Now the wrinkle shows always. I consider it a battle scar. One night right before we separated, Will drank some Jim Beam and then came to my perch at the computer to stare at me. I tried to ignore him - I knew where the staring would lead. After a few uncomfortable minutes, he reached his finger toward my face and traced the wrinkle on my forehead. "Why don't you yell at me anymore? Why don't you get mad anymore? Why don't you love me no more?" he sadly asked.
Clarifying the distinction between relatively normal dissociation and relatively abnormal dissociation is important for a number of reasons, including: 1) understanding what Dissociative Identity Disorder is becomes easier when you can clearly identify what it is not, 2) describing symptoms like dissociative amnesia to others is less of a challenge when you start from a place they can relate to, and 3) those of us with DID could do with regular reminders that we aren’t aberrant life forms and, in fact, a good portion of our dissociative experiences aren’t as far-fetched to other people as we may believe.
One of the things that drives me crazier than usual is this notion that anxiety is in overwhelming proportion amenable to rational thought on the part of the person suffering from the anxiety disorder. It's a persistent idea. It's also wrong. Cognitive behavioral therapy: What they don't tell you, why you should find out
PHP IOP NG Tube AN TPN IP AMA . . . The first time I was hospitalized for anorexia nervosa was in June 2008. I left after 24 hours — AMA. The second time I was hospitalized for treatment my doctor informed me I would need a TPN. I was totally clueless about the acronyms and terms. It can feel like you are swimming in a vast sea of alphabet soup when you first enter the world of eating disorders treatment.
Comorbidity. Interesting word, isn't it? If you were new to the English language and without your dictionary, you might guess it to mean something like "dying together." And you wouldn't be altogether inaccurate.
The New York Times Book Review article is entitled: The Epidemic of Mental Illness: Why? (June 23, 2011, Marcia Angell) This is the first of two parts, reviewing several books which plan to explode the belief that mental illness is caused by chemical imbalance in the brain. Instead, these books claim, the imbalance of neurotransmitter levels in the brain only appear after psychiatric medications have been administered. They point to the standards allowed by the FDA which permit drug companies to get approval for new medications, as long as they have proof of two studies showing a positive effect - no matter how many studies also were made, showing no improvement at all vs. placebo. Okay. I'll bite. But as further evidence that new drugs are "creating" more mental illness symptoms than curing them, the article states that Robert Whitaker, author of Anatomy of an Epidemic: Magic Bullets, Psychiatric Drugs, and the Astonishing Rise of Mental Illness in America, contends that, in the past: "conditions such as schizophrenia and depression were once mainly self-limited or episodic, with each episode usually lasting no more than six months and interspersed with long periods of normalcy" Really? I mean, come on. Listen, all I can go by is my own son, and the illness I witnessed as it slowly developed, progressed, and took hold.
Feel free to question my emotional competence but I'm not insane. For that matter, most people with mental illness are not insane. This may be obvious but for many it's not. Anyway, how many times have you thought, 'oh goodness, I must be really losing it this time' during the course of mental health difficulties? It's a common concern that can dramatically increase the amount of anxiety a person experiences. It may also inhibit their ability to trust, and to ask for help.

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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!