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My name is Douglas and I've been diagnosed with ADHD for ages. I was ADHD before the Space Age, then during the Computer Age, and now in Old Age. I missed being diagnosed with Minimal Brain Dysfunction when that was all the rage, but did score Hyperkinetic in the 70s, which was not nearly as exciting or cool as being telekinetic.
Amanda_HP
We get a lot of email at HealthyPlace.com every month. I mean thousands of emails. Besides answering emails to help people, I sift through them to gauge what's on people's minds. One topic that comes up frequently is alternative, natural, complementary treatments for depression, bipolar disorder, eating disorders, schizophrenia --- well just about every mental health condition out there. A significant number of people who write us about alternative mental health treatments are interested because they don't like the side-effects of antidepressants, antipsychotics, antianxiey, or ADHD medications and are hoping that natural remedies, like herbs or supplements, or some alternative therapies such as neurofeedback or yoga will do the trick and relieve their unpleasant psychiatric symptoms.
Years ago, I tracked my anxious thoughts in a journal to define my triggers and reduce my negative thinking. Triggers are fears or situations that bring your anxiety to a heightened state. For example, speaking in public, riding in elevators, writing a check, or driving on freeways may trigger anxiety for some people. Eating in public around others has always been a big trigger for me.
I was diagnosed with bipolar 1 on October 6, 2006. I remember the date like it’s my birthday. It’s the day my whole world collapsed and I became a person I didn’t recognize. I was branded, disgraced and humiliated (Living With Mental Illness and Self-Stigma). It was I who took in the online questionnaire to my psychiatrist, hoping that I was wrong.
My name is Aimée. The spelling is French and it means “Beloved” which is ironic considering how much I worry about others judging me. I grew up in a big family, in a little town right on Lake Erie, in Ohio, and currently live in Utah.
There I was in the bathroom, innocently blowing my nose and bopping to music on my iPhone at 12:30am. I had many things left on my ToDo list that needed doing, and with the quiet a sleeping home brings, I could finally focus. I flushed the tissue away and began to wash my hands, deep in thought about all those undone things. That's when I heard a splashing noise.
I’ll never forget staring myself down in the mirror of the restaurant thinking to myself “This is not normal. There is something very wrong with me.” I had just escaped my 24th birthday lunch celebration with all my coworkers, to the bathroom where I crouched, legs shaking, my neck burning, and vomiting in the stall.
Cristina Fender, diagnosed with Bipolar I in 2006, is a wife and a mother raising two young girls in Texas.  Her oldest is six going on thirteen and is obsessed with Twilight. Her youngest is two going on zero since she prefers to be the baby of the family and is currently refusing to use the potty like a big girl. Cristina spends most of her time chasing around kids and picking up after them while dealing with bipolar symptoms. This award-winning blog, Bipolar Vida, features a journal of her life and how bipolar effects how she lives her life. 
Amanda_HP
For Anne A. Johnson Davis, the physical, sexual, and psychological abuse started at the age of 3 and continued on until she was 17 years old.  She was tortured by her parents, relatives and other cult members -- all in the name of Satan.  The details of this satanic ritual abuse (SRA), as well as her recovery, are laid out in her book.
Amanda_HP
My name is Douglas Cootey. I’m a 42 year old stay-at-home dad on disability and I have had ADHD all my life. When I was three weeks old, if a parent placed a finger in both of my hands I would brace my legs against them and stand up. My head would flop around, but up I’d be. Performing this trick for my pediatrician introduced my parents to the world of ADHD in the 60s. Back then, it was referred to as hyperkinesis. By third grade, I was taking ritalin daily except weekends to help me in my studies. Before that, I had spent large amounts of time banished to the library room for wiggling in class.

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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!