Showing posts with label mental. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mental. Show all posts

Monday, November 3, 2014

A mental diet

I had full intentions all day to blog about what I thought was a fairly creative title, "I'm losing mental weight but gaining it physically."  I planned on telling everyone how fabulous it is to toss baggage out the window left and right at therapy and group and how much lighter my mind felt and the hell with medicinal weight gain.  But honestly, I'm not there right now.  It's been a weepy afternoon.  It's not one particular thing that makes me sad today.  That's what people don't understand about depression.  I saw this on twitter tonight and Bingo!  Celeb Wayne Brady said, 

"Some days, you don't want to move, you can't move in the darkness," he said of his lowest points. "You're like, 'You know what, I'm just gonna sit right here, and I'm gonna wallow in this. And as much as it hurts, I'm just gonna sit right here, because this is what I deserve. Because I am that horrible of a person.'"

 I listened last week to a girl with a Masters in Counseling say, "I finally know how pure joy feels and I'm so afraid I'll never feel it again."  At the same time, I listened to an older bipolar woman lament about not knowing the difference between being manic and genuinely happy.  Gosh, how do you begin to break that all down and fix it?  It's no wonder people don't understand mental illness.  It's hard for those of us who carry the illness on our backs daily to decipher the highs and lows.  I also listened last week to a woman say, "I will not take another pill.  I will do whatever I have to do to fight this."  It is for heroes like her that I continue to go to support groups and fight for mental illness.  We fight together and merge our strengths, our sadness, our sleeplessness, our happiness, our knowledge, our battles and our courage.  There are those of us who refuse to let the disease beat us and it's inspiring to be among these men and women weekly.         

So, in regard to the mental and physical weight.  I've realized during my recovery that I have two choices, 1. Mire in my life pre March and be overweight with sadness and risk my life, OR 2.  Continue to toss the mental baggage out the window and let my body lose weight when I'm ready.  Clearly, option 2 is the route I am taking.  And to my sweet husband, thank you for truly loving me for who I am...mentally AND physically.    



Monday, May 12, 2014

Attitude determines altitude

If you were one of the many who darkened the doors of Jean Ann O'Neal's 7th grade Science room, you were greeted with one of her favorite quotes, "Attitude determines altitude."  I don't think until recently I understood the gravity of that quote.  A positive attitude is so big, so defining in life.  I think an eye opening difference for me is when a positive person enters my life.  It's contagious.  

I found myself reaching and grasping for positive things before my hospitalization.  I texted a friend about sending me the "Power of Positive Thinking" CD since I couldn't attend the classes.  I knew then I excelled around positivity.  I was too weak at the time to attain it on my own.  Now that I have clarity, I'm amazed at how well I function around happy souls.  Our attitude has a profound effect on our physical, spiritual and mental well being.  For me I have learned a few guidelines and to exit stage left if I find myself feeling emotionally affected, exhausted, guilty, ashamed, in "rescue or fix mode" with people.  It isn't productive for either party.  

I took some notes at The Peach which I found to be so enlightening on this topic.  

My situation is not......

permanent (things WILL get better)
pervasive (my whole life isn't ruined)
personal (my problem is an unfortunate circumstance, not my fault)

Exchange attitude for gratitude.  It works every time, hands down.  

Happy Monday!   xo, n




    

Sunday, March 30, 2014

Camp Cupcake

I'm wondering if "Camp Cupcake" for Martha Stewart is similar to Unit 4 of Peachford. I'm going to say yes. I'm going to think that Martha and I both had plastic covered cots, had to "check out" a dull razor as if it were a library book only between the hours of 7:45-9:15, use a hair dryer in the hallway supervised during "sharps" hours only, had no electrical outlets in her room, slept with flashlights shined every 15 min, lined up for meals like kindergartners, woke up at 6 AM and had cell mates with names such as hippie chic and wheelchair girl.

It's funny because my complaints were so minimal during my week long stay. It's almost like reverting back to a child like state where your Mom made all of your decisions such as meals, bed times and Doctor appointments.  It's extremely a mindless exercise to exist with no stress, watches, cell phones or schedules. It was an eye opener for me at how truly sick I was and had been for a really long time.


That being said, while it is a great mental health break, I totally get how prisoners aren't able to adapt to the real world. It's a tough tough transition to be locked up 24/7 for days on end and then thrown out to the wolves for survival!  Not literally of course for myself, but truly an eye opener that life has gone on for everyone else during the sabbatical. Sadly some patients are thrown back out to the wolves. Since Peachford is a "Crisis Management Facility", the length of stay isn't nearly as long as it should be for some. Once the "crisis" (whether it be suicide, a manic episode, alcohol, eating disorder), has subsided, it is time to leave.  It is time for the patient to follow a treatment plan of Dr. appointments, therapy visits, support groups, AA/NA , etc.  Unfortunately, many fall through the cracks and relapse due to having financial problems and no one to support their recovery at home. Not all of us are blessed with faithful cheerleaders on the sidelines of the game cheering us on to victory. It is heartbreaking to see a raise of hands of patients with no ride home after release.  As positive of an experience I want to say this was for me, I cannot help but see how we as a society are failing our mental health patients.  Many don't know how to cry for help much less where to go for help. Our Er's are not equipped and are severely understaffed. Many who do are left to sit in cold Er's for 24 plus hours with no sleep increasing their depressed state even further until a bed is located at a mental health facility.  It is a rude, harsh awakening at health care and the mental health system in America.  It is easy to place blame however, I find that to be fruitless.  Instead I choose to try to make a difference in the life of mentally ill patients.  I will continue to attend support groups for my own benefit and also speak up in these groups in hopes I can help one person. We are only one but we can make a difference!  I believe this to be true. I saw how one person made a difference in my life when it was nothing but darkness.  One ignored text, one harsh word, one smile, one kind word, one hug... Could be the difference in life and death. Trust me, I ran that race and crossed the finish line.  Be kind. If there is one piece of advice I can give us all, it is to be kind.  The reward of kindness is so much better than the alternative of negativity.  

It is through some of the deepest pain we can find truth, faith and see the beauty in people and humanity.  

There is some humor to be found in my seven days.  I only hope I can do the funny stories justice this coming week without being offensive to some.  After all, sometimes you have to laugh to keep from crying.      


Friday, March 28, 2014

1013 is not my house number

1013 is not my house number.  
2045 North Bethany Creek is mine.  
Yet, 1013 became mine on paper Friday, March 7, 2014. 

In case you aren’t aware of Psych codes, 1013 is the code for an involuntary admission to a mental facility.  Yes, I earned that badge, I added that to my resume, I added that title to the list of my endorsements.  I’m not ashamed of 1013.  1013 represents bravery, an act of asking for help for a disease out of control, a resume filled with events that many people never make it to because suicide robs them of a fulfilling life. 


The stigma of depression, bipolar, mania, etc is one that encourages the public to hide an illness and to be ashamed of facilities, medicines, therapies.  It is for this reason alone, I have decided to go public with my illness.  If I can save one life, change one negative thought to a positive, it will be worth it all.  I am not ashamed of my diagnosis. 

I will do my best to relate my story weekly so that it comes full circle.  I cannot promise my sentences won't be run ons, that commas will be in correct places and fragments won't be scattered throughout.  However, I can promise...raw emotion, honesty and writing from the heart.  

My prayer is this blog may be forwarded, shared or emailed to a soul and heart in need.