January...Here Comes the Sun

January is not a favorite month of many.  There are the blahs that occur after the holidays, cold and bleak weather in many areas with more dark than light, flu season adds to a negative perspective, and for many there is the chemical component added that makes January a volatile month.  

I wrote in my last blog about changes coming down the pike for those dealing with mental health issues.  But with this one I’m bringing things back to a personal level, or an individual level, anyway.  Depression reigns supreme during this time of year, with many individuals who fall within “normal” on the mental health spectrum spiking a bit in the area of the depression.  But for those who fight chronic depression due to bipolar or clinical depressive disorders, this time of year is quite often and quite literally a killer.  

Personally, I am currently in month three of severe depression that is indicative of my particular experience with bipolar.  Every year I go about seven months with depression with it varying from mild (chronic down in the dumps) to fairly extreme.  I have to be very sparing with antidepressants as they tend to cause mania and usher in a mixed state that feels like my thoughts and emotions are fragmenting and fighting for supremacy, a download of multi-moods fueled by excessive aggressive energy.  So, I have had to come up with non-medicinal ways to keep the circus under the big top.  I think that the following is adaptable for any level of depression, chronic or no.  I’ve found these methods to be tried and true, but you should determine such for yourself.

First, I continually remind myself, no matter how things look or how I feel, that my mental state is temporary.  And when I can’t do it for myself, I have a husband, sisters, and a mom who remind me, that, no I’m not dying, that it will get better, that I am loved, that I am in fact not as ugly as I see myself, and that my life does have meaning even though I don’t see it.  But no matter what they say, even if they say nothing, I have to enter into this time of year with the mindset that what I perceive as reality is jaded through the lens of depression.  And I have to make myself accept that what I am thinking and feeling is most likely not reality.  I HAVE TO BE WILLING TO ACCEPT THAT WHAT IS POSITIVE HAS A PLACE, AND WHAT I AM THINKING IS REALITY, IS IN FACT DISTORTED AGAINST ALL I THINK AND FEEL.

Second, I have to minimize expectations of myself.  If I expect myself to perform at the level I do when I am not depressed, I am going to add to my depressive state.  And I have to not look at what others are doing and expect myself to compete.  I know, after years of dealing with this, that I cannot.  I give myself grace.  I must.  I know that my sleep requirements increase dramatically.  That is just the way it is.  My body and mind have to have much more sleep to combat physical and mental stressors that ensue with this time of year.  I GIVE MYSELF GRACE TO UNDERACHIEVE AND SLEEP.

Third, I take time for myself.  As a person who was single for the majority of life, I have a very firm grasp on the importance of time for self.  As a mental health professional, I know the value of inner reflection and time with Abba.  As a person with mental illness, I know the necessity of quiet and reflection to check on functioning ability and stamina levels.  I have put yoga and mindfulness practice back into my exercise routine as main events.  I have no desire to do either, being extremely low on both motivation and energy, but I find they contribute significantly to clarity, something that is necessary to the mood storms that tend to blow through.  I TAKE TIME TO INVEST IN MYSELF.

Try these three things.  If they are not practices you normally employ, you will find you have a full plate, with just three.  And the whole point here is to NOT have a full plate this time of year, so try one at a time.  I will add one more thing here to keep things real for you and for me.  Depression is a very selfish illness.  You have to feed it for it to grow.  Now, don’t get me wrong.  There are chemicals that create it, but if you are continually focusing on all the things that make an environment conducive to being depressed, you will find it will thrive, like a well-fed parasite.  I know from personal experience that trying to see the good, the bright, the hope of things is like trying to drive against a 60 foot wave, but the point here is to not let it get to 60 feet.  

Right now, I am battling physical and mental illness.  Fatigue is the order of the day for me from morning to night.  I know I cannot realistically maintain what my mom terms as ice cream thoughts rather than pickle thoughts throughout the course of my day, but I make it a point to catch myself a few times a day to reframe what appears as bleak into what is positive.  Right now I’m thinking how very tired I am, that I have no energy to finish laundry, get the intellectual work done I need to, and still have time for my man and my boy when they cross the threshold.  STOP.  I don’t have to do all the laundry, just the load I’m working on now.  I only have to get this blog written and set up a couple interviews.  And if I get some yoga done, it will help me have focus and stamina to welcome my two guys home.  I may not be a stellar conversationalist, but I can welcome them, tell them I love them, and let them know dinner is in the works. Oh yeah, dinner.  Hmm...One thing at a time. 

On the spiritual front, I confess, Abba is close to me even when I don’t communicate much.  He and I have traversed severe depression for decades.  He knows me better than I know me, and there is great comfort in having one in my life I can go to for directions about me.  You either understand what I mean here, or you don’t.  I can explain no further except that I have a comfort in that that no medication, practice, or amount of sleep can provide.  

If you are struggling with the darkness of depression, light gray or black as night, you are not alone.  I am right in it too.  I have given some ideas here that work for me.  They are referenced professionally and personally, but they stand on their own merit and are the very foundation for fighting depression.  Sunny days are on their way...Wait for them.  You will not be the only one.

 

Blessings ,

L

Mental Health America All Excited...Really?

So I received an email from Mental Health America.  I am a member and receive their updates and breaking news.  Of course with all the proposed legislation going down with what I affectingly term “weapons and insanity,” there are big changes proposed.  If you are on board with everything going down in legislation right now, you may want to quit reading this blog, as I am likely to offend you.  I am not interested in changing anyone’s mind.  I am simply expressing my thoughts on what is happening in the mental health sector.  You may agree or no.  There is room here for either view.  I’m just expressing from a view point you may not have encountered.

So, Mental Health America is excited and is applauding the President for finally getting on board with mental health by extending access to services and making mental health a priority through the “GUN VIOLENCE ACT”.  So, if you are just falling off the apple cart here, and you see that you, as a person off your nut (forgive the mixed food metaphors...I’m on a diet and food is uppermost at present), can get services through an act that addresses guns and violence, would not you pause for a brief moment before skipping to your nearest health care provider, assuming you even have insurance that covers healthcare issues?  

Hmmm.  I gotta tell you, as a person who has a gun and is also mentally ill, I am a bit reticent about the ACT these new expansions are falling under.  I can honestly tell you that I have never, in my most insane moments, considered taking a gun and killing a group of individuals.  But I certainly fit the requirements of those being addressed in this act.  Oh, except I’m not in my twenties and am not male (a general and vague profile of those perpetrating these horrific crimes).  Moving on...

According to the new link I was sent, a task force has been established (sounds ominous) and is going to provide a “sea of change in the way we view mental health in this country.”  That makes me a little nervous, as someone who is mentally ill, since the impetus for a new view started with heinous shootings by individuals termed mentally ill (though more likely personality disorders).  I ask you, if you are from a culture that has gone from being largely ignored to suddenly becoming a pariah, would you want to have it shown you are a part of that culture?  

They (being unnamed sums who are now invested in addressing mental health, after decades of ignoring it and being told by those of us in the mental health care profession that things were getting worse), are now going to swoop in an “fix” the issue.  So, even though the general population of those who are gun carrying mentally ill persons do not fit the profile of the individuals who have committed such horrific crimes, there will be ramifications for all of us.  Greater good?  Hmmm.

And here is another thought to consider.  Now, we are going to start addressing mental health in schools, something I have long been saying needs to be done as 75% of mental illnesses present before the brain is fully developed by the mid twenties.  Prevention is the way to go, but I wonder who is going to do this educating?  And where is the funding going to come from to do so?  Teachers are maxed out, frankly, and their funding is as well.  Mental health doesn’t even have enough funding to treat those individuals who actually pursue treatment.  I know because I have been through the system.  So, who is going to educate on mental health?  Who is going to screen?  And with what?  Oh, I know.  We have not worked out all the bugs yet...

I think it is a good thing that mental health is being addressed, but if the powers involved think they are going to address and eradicate stigma on one hand with “conversations and talks” about it, whilst screening and then providing personal information that could eliminate 2^nd amendment rights on the other, they are living in a fantasy world.

My perspective on this comes from a couple different scenarios and a knowledge base about human behavior.  After years and years of working with individuals with severe mental illness, I have uncovered a couple of patterns.  One of those patterns is that it seems more likely that men will be more unwilling to address severe mental illness than women.  I’m making a generalization here from my own observations, so don’t quote me.  My theory is that so much about men has to do with their feeling of strength whether physical or through work, and mental illness attacks both, leaving the individual powerless.  The men I have talked to over the years just cannot accept their mental illness, and they have expressed to me that accepting it makes them feel impotent.  So, you have a population of men (I am not leaving women out here, because women also fit these categories I’m stating, just sidelining them).  

Another generalization here, but I would wager to say men tend to carry guns more than women.  You also have more men serving in the military (another generalization).  You have this particular population getting out of the military, having mental health issues (namely PTSD), and not receiving treatment prior to implementation of this new ACT.  What do you think the likelihood will be now of them getting treatment?  Before it was stigma.  Now with Biden’s new task force, a person who receives treatment and is perceived by a mental health care professional as unstable or a threat can be flagged to have his or her 2^nd amendment rights revoked.  HIPPA anyone?  And that is a tremendous amount of power for one individual to wield over another.

So, given my theory, let’s look at our military.  You have a person trained in lethal combat, who has done his (or her) time for the country.  Having done so, damage is done in a mental capacity.  The person has PTSD.  Do you think that individual is going to go get help with this new legislation coming down the pike?  I sure wouldn’t.  So, we have the potential of someone trained in combat with a mental health issue...Based on the legislation, a prime candidate to be flagged as not being able to have a gun, don’t you think?  Never mind they have the illness due to service to their country and the freedoms therein, which include (for now) the right to bear arms.  

Here is what ticks me off.  This ACT is not really targeting the population that is committing such crimes.  Hello!  Just as gun control will really only serve to restrict those who already abide by the laws of the land, so new mental health care legislation will really only impact those who are trying to live healthy lives with mental illness in tow in a negative way.  It will ameliorate bridges established to get people in to get treatment, and it will further establish stigma in society as a whole, but more importantly and more severely, in those individuals who actually have severe mental illness.  

I know Mental Health America is excited in part due to the parity bill being passed which has a lot of good things in it for helping individuals will mental illness, but what is the trade off?  The President did state that mentally ill individuals are far more likely to be victims than to perpetuate crimes, but you do not have to be a sociologist or anthropologist to see where this could go.  So what to do?  

For my part, I’m watching.  That may sound passive, but I’m waiting to see which way the wind blows, and I’m attempting to remain realistic.  Personally, I’m in danger of losing more than my right to bear arms.  I’m in danger of losing my privacy.  Professionally, I can see possibilities opening up as demand for those involved with abnormal psychology increases.  But I’m not as concerned for me as I am for those individuals for whom this ACT may be a death toll for mental health. 

I’m praying some wisdom shows up on the scene, along with some intelligence.  News flash, a person who is unable to carry a gun is certainly able to find other ways to perpetuate a horrific crime.  We have multiple past bombings as support.  AND if a crime is pre-meditated, there is an indication of rationale, which would exclude many mental illnesses and throw such individuals in the category of personality disorder which is NOT mental illness per the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual. 

So, I would challenge those who deal with mental health issues, to really look at what is going on around you.  Do you have a support system?  Do they believe in you and would protect your right to privacy as they are scrambling to protect the 2^nd amendment.  It is valuable to look at all involved here to ascertain who all could be losing what and what will be gained.

Thanks for reading as I expound on my 1^st amendment right!

L

http://www.nmha.org/index.cfm?objectid=456FA181-9254-EBC8-DEE8622F0010A206

A Year's Lessons

It’s a new year!  So what.  Sorry, but I just don’t get that excited about another year.  Do I sound, “Bah, humbug”?  My apologies to those of you who embrace a new year like “The Running of the Bulls.”  Maybe I’m a pessimist.  Maybe I’m just tired.  I am not melodramatic enough to say that life does not have good, because it most certainly does.  I’m just really not one of those fresh slate kinds of people.  “Each day is fresh with no mistakes”... but then again, what about the unresolved ones of yesterday?  Where do they go?  They do not simply fall away in the night.  No.  If there is no resolution, they will be there to greet the day with you.  And is it not ignorance to deny they exist?  Mistakes happen.  There is forgiveness and even compensation, but they have the power to change the course of one’s life, for good or bad.  From my perspective, it’s sometimes all about whether or not one can make pies with mud. 

I stopped making new year resolutions a long time ago.  I find them to enable me to fail.  I know that seems a contradiction, but the things I have succeeded at have been practices in place over time, not promises I have made to myself for improvement on January 1^st.  As a psychologist, I find the behaviors implemented with resolutions to be amusing.  There is a mad scramble to accomplish that which has not been mastered the rest of the year through.  It is as though somehow with the dawning of a new year there is an enablement to succeed that has not existed prior.  I have seen it too often in my own nature.  And I know that, behaviorally, it is impossible to will a new pattern.  There has to be practice, consistency, and tenacity, all features I possess no more on January 1^st than I do any other time of the year.

I am not poo-hooing those who like their resolutions.  It is truly not my business, but I just think there is a lot of pressure placed on this time of year during a time when depression already reigns.  So, why not add the pressure to reformat one’s life and when failure happens, let’s add it to one of the most depressing months of the year.   Again, if it helps you, makes you a better person in your own interpretation, do it.  For me, the practice is not beneficial.

So, I have implemented a reflection thing I do in December.  I take stock as one might of a pantry to see what I have in excess and what I am lacking.  I make notes to add or throw out, and I attempt balance.  This past year has been all about the dissertation.  My doctorate has taken up so much of my life.  I ran into major issues with my chairperson and had to get a new one.  The process taught me that if I had to, I could walk away from the whole thing for the sake of everything else in my life.  My  new chairperson is awesome, and it looks as though I’m going to button this thing down by early spring, but I am still willing to walk away if need be.  That was a hard place to come to, but I got there.  Some things should really just not dictate the welfare of others in one’s life.  I am happy with this particular development in my little world. 

Another area I have recently made changes to has been in the area of relationships.  I have a fatal flaw where people are concerned.  I have figured out that I tend to involve broken people who are needy in my life so that I won’t have to be left out.  It is a practice I have employed since forever.  Kind of like the kid who brings candy to school and offers it for friendship.  I have tended to offer loyalty and support as trade off for friendship.  This is a tough one.  But I have begun drawing hard lines.  I was single for nearly 40 years.  People think of you that way, even if your status changes.  I am married now, and I have a family.  I can no longer be a beck and call girl for individuals who are used to me being there.  So, people who do not want to know about my life, do not want to be involved, but want me on standby in case they need crisis intervention will be billed.  Simple as that.  

I can no longer put forth all the effort in personal exchanges and receive no exchange or response.  That is not healthy.  My apologies for not doing this sooner.  When I had more time in my personal life, other people’s issues were like puzzles I enjoyed trying to solve, but I am not God, and I have no real answers.  I no longer have time to straddle the practices of my past life and those required in my new one.  I have to commit somewhere.  And that has been the lesson of the year.  I must commit to the life I have chosen, leaving what is past behind. 

It is difficult to let go of a life that has been in place for nearly 40 years.  People who have been married and then single, tell me they know what I mean, but they don’t.  When you have never ever committed your entire life to someone, given up your independence, and found yourself having to ask for input of another person when you have never done any of that in 35 + years, taking a step like that is pretty earth shattering.  And, I think that in the past year, even though I have been married for nearly two years now, I have really come to a reckoning with myself about my tendency to hedge my bets rather than go all in, a practice very much against my nature.   It is as though a part of me is being reserved, held back, for...well...for me.  But what Abba has helped me see is that if I cannot see me in my new life with a new direction, I will never be able to fully live it, and I cannot expect others to believe it of me either.

So I have already begun the changes I want for my life, long before a new year gave me permission.  It matters little about success or failure.  It has to be an implemented change in the fabric of my nature.  I have done some of the hard stuff.  I have walked away from some relationships that have been in place for most of my life.  There is no closed door...just empty place on the bench I used to inhabit, waiting to be summoned.  I just don’t have the time any more.  And, I have begun to fully live the life I am in.  I am slowly accepting the role of “mother” something I have never really been comfortable with or pursued, and I am reaping benefits I do not deserve.  I am someone’s wife; Chris’ wife.  And I’m mostly okay with that, because he champions me being me.  A better man for me does not exist.  I am a low maintenance woman, but that does not mean I am not difficult, and he is a perfect balance of humor, grace, and strength for me.  I hope I bring to his life.  I hope I can continue to become a better person not just because of him but for him.  

I am working towards becoming more involved socially with the life I am in.  I am going to continue to make an attempt to get involved in the church we have begun to attend.  I’m not a person who enjoys church.  There I said it.  Are you shocked?  I grew up “in the church”.  I have spent the last 20 years trying to break out of that mentality and make certain my reasons for going to church are not ritualistic or obligatory,but spiritual.  What can I say?  I’m agoraphobic.  A nightmare for me is a round room packed with people I don’t know, music that is too loud, and only two exits.  But I’m working it out, because I feel this is an area where I need to stretch.  And maybe in the future I will join in on a Bible study or, heaven forbid, a women’s group.  It’s not my thing, and I have had major trauma in the past with such groups wanting to “exorcise” the demons out of me that make me “crazy”.  But I’m past all that.  I know my God and what he thinks of me.  Anyone else’s discomfort with me and my issues is theirs and not for me to worry about.  Even so, I won’t be throwing such things into the arena any time soon.  I am going to make an effort to become involved a bit.  I just feel it is something I need.  And you never know, I may be surprised.  I’m open to that...being surprised.  Yet another change I have begun to embrace over that past year.  We shall see what next year’s reflection brings.

Happy Year, everyone!

L

Inside Edition of Mental Health Care

I have been putting off this blog for some time, because I don’t like to traipse down memory lane, but in light of recent events in our country, I think it necessary to put this out there.

I was 14 when I had my first depressive episode.  It lasted about 6 months.  My second occurred when I was 17 and lasted about 6 months.  These episodes were not just “sadness” or “being down”.  They were overcast and gray with no energy and there was no idea of there being a future of any kind.  

When I was 21 I experienced a depressive episode worse than anything I had experienced before.  It lasted 10 months and took me past suicidal ideation to a flat line.  I experienced absolutely no feeling of any kind.  I was numb, and I eventually developed a psychotic feature that began to shut my body down.  Lack of sleep was the instigator of the psychotic break, and it was perpetuated by severe and continual depression. 

Over the next 10 years I struggled to find help, diagnosis, and stability.  Most of you who know me and read my blog know I have bipolar II and agoraphobia with panic attacks.  So, this blog is more about the mental health process I went through, such as it was, to get to where I am now.  

I had someone watching out for me, who worked through vocational rehabilitation in Minot, ND where I was going to school.  She called my mom and told her I was going to kill myself before the term ended if I was not pulled out and watched.  That was the first significant aide I received, and it was not from the mental healthcare system but from someone in another organization affiliated. 

When I got home, no one knew what to do with me.  My parents had never encountered mental illness, so they just kept me close and hoped it would pass.  I knew, after nearly a year of broken down mental health, that I would not survive another such episode.  Fortunately, I had a friend whose husband was a physician, and they got me to a friend who was a psychiatrist.  He was beneficial to helping me, but he was also over a hundred dollars a session, and with someone as seriously ill as I was, I had to go once a week for a while.  You do the math.  I had no insurance.  I had no job.  My parents were still raising children and on a budget.  I was told that there was no way to afford treatment.  I had no place to go.  I had been shown someone who might be able to help me with something I had seemingly “contracted” but I couldn’t have it, because there was no way to afford it.  At that time there was very little financial aid for people in my position.  I was desperate, because I knew the next round of depression would be my last.  

My friend stepped in again and helped me financially.  She basically saved my life.  She recognized there was something seriously wrong that wasn’t going to just go away.  I remember her telling me that 22 was too young to be dealing with life and death decisions every single day.  So, I continued to see the doctor, and we began the very long and costly road of finding me a diagnosis.  The cost of medications was astronomical.  It isn’t like taking an antibiotic for a cold.  You gotta play around with eliminating depression, ADD, and any number of other illnesses before you hit the grand slam mental illnesses of either bipolar of schizophrenia.  A good doctor will hope for the least invasive illnesses and begin to rule them out and work up to the big ones.  Unfortunately for me, anti-depressants and stimulants threw me into mania, and after a year, we knew I had bipolar, based on a long period of trial and error. 

It is valuable in our current mental healthcare system to get a diagnosis, because that is how one gets on the right pharmaceutical regimen.   So, there I was at 23, newly diagnosed, thinking, “Okay, I will take a pill and get on with life.”  Right…My body hated psychiatric meds.  I had violent illness, blisters, and hives.  I bloated up like the blueberry girl who ate the gum on “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory,” minus the blue.  And through it all, the moods continued with mania and extreme depression, often exacerbated due to the meds rather than curtailed.  

I knew there was stigma out there, but I didn’t understand how deep it went.  My biology professor in Minot told me when I told him I had to withdraw due to mental illness that if I was mentally ill, I didn’t belong in college (The petty child in my very much wants to find him and rub my doctorate in his face!).  But I didn’t realize that my illness could be hazardous to me in a social context until my psychiatrist cautioned me about telling anyone about my illness, especially anywhere I worked.  At that point I had to make a decision, was I going to buy into shame about my illness, or was I going to refuse to accept guilt over something that landed in my lap due to biology and genetics.  I chose the latter, and with that choice came transparency and an opening to be hurt, discriminated against, and rejection, all of which I fully expected from society but not from those in the profession who were supposed to help me.

I saw my psychologist for several years.  We finally tapped out our options for meds and were able to land on lithium.  Lithium was really hard on my stomach, and when I moved to Kansas City with my sister, I found anxiety exacerbated the medications interaction on me physically.  I had continual stomach issues, and as this small town girl grappled with living in a big city and working downtown KC with a 40 mile commute (round trip) every day through major traffic, I developed an anxiety disorder called agoraphobia with panic attacks.  So, seven years into my diagnosis of BP, I now had another illness, and it was absolutely debilitating.  I could not leave the house without becoming physically sick.  Panic attacks ensued every time I went to the grocery store or Wal-Mart.  I had them on the way to work, on the way home, and off and on throughout my work day.  The mental toll cause major upheaval with the BP and the two fed off each other.

Mental healthcare at the time was sketchy.  I had insurance but had to use those in network for treatment, and even then very little was covered.  Average cost for a med check was $100 and for extended consultation if I was having issues, it was nearly double.  The first psychiatrist I saw in network felt he could treat the anxiety by increasing my lithium.  He increased it so much that it nearly killed me.  So, I had to go off the lithium, which left me unprotected from the BP and the severe depression that always quickly slides in when I’m unstable.  I found another doctor through a friend, and though I had to travel all the way across KC to see him, it was worth it, for he rescued me.  He got me leveled out and on a different type of lithium and began to teach me how to handle my illnesses.  He educated me and informed me I had to be an authority on my illnesses as many in the profession do not know what they are doing.  Then he was indicted for selling pharmaceuticals from his home.  I had to find another doctor.  

The next doctor I found wanted to put me on Haldol the first visit we had, which is an antipsychotic and very invasive, often used for treating schizophrenia.  When I passed on the med change based on him not even having read my file, he was offended.  He talked down to me as though I was an idiot, telling me that I could not just have meds.  He told me I needed to take care of myself and get regular blood work, and that if I could not do what he directed he would not prescribe to me.  Every time I went in to see him, I left feeling like a chastised child, punished for crimes I had not committed.  Left untreated, the agoraphobia got worse.  I desperately needed therapy, but my bills for the treatment I was receiving were in the double digits.  It came down to me choosing to either get the meds or get therapy.  I knew the BP required lithium, so I chose meds.  

I tried a couple therapists in my network to see if I could get some therapy to help me.  The first one told me she was very threatened by mental illness, knew little about it, and couldn’t help me.  The second therapist looked around like I was going to rob her when I told her I had a mental illness.  She told me she was not comfortable working with the mentally ill.  The interesting thing with that was that when I applied for social security to get some help, they had a therapist assess my mental state and competency.  I walked in for the appointment and low and behold, the therapist they had hired was the therapist who had told me she knew little about mental illness.  The results of the session with her came back that I did not need SS because I could work in a fast-food restaurant. My big Italian therapist (the one who was indicted) shook his head, emitted a very committed profanity and said, “That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard.  You in a fast food restaurant would be a step towards ending the world.”  Had he not ended up in prison, my story might have turned out very different…

There was no assistance, no support, nothing in the mental healthcare system that either lent itself to be found or utilized.  That is when I decided I was going to go into psychology, so I could really help people with mental illness.  I felt the mental healthcare system lacked practical help and humanity, and I still feel the same today.

We moved to Alaska, and at that time the agoraphobia had made me a prisoner in my home for nearly a year.  Because it was so out of control, it had caused instability with the BP and I had a series of three very significant “crashes” where mental function was fractured to the point of non-functioning.  It is difficult to describe such a thing to a person who has never encountered such a phenomena, but suffice to say the body is there, the mind is laying in pieces, and the brain is shooting off electrical sparks and smoke, over-connecting in some areas and not connecting at all in most.  

My family was on board with this round of psychosis.  I went to stay with my sister and finally got a few months of therapy along with continued pharmaceutical regimen.  It only happened for a brief period with a professional willing to work with me without much compensation, but that time helped me get a mental grip.  The move to Alaska opened up a new world for me, as I entered the world of academia and psychology.  I found a home at that university, and to be honest, the best help I ever received came from my professors in the psychology department rather than the mental healthcare system.  I learned to take control of all aspects of my mental health.  I became an authority on my illness, and it helped me ascertain who should be on my “team” to help me be as healthy as possible. 

I found a therapist through my mentor professor.  She was a nurse practitioner and therapist.  She was the first professional to address my agoraphobia both through therapy and medication.  Coupled with insights from my mentor who was a behaviorist, I began to make progress with the agoraphobia, which in turn, created more stability with the BP.  

Years later, at 41, and after five years of stability in both illnesses, I will say I am not “recovered” as our mental healthcare system insists is possible.  I have accepted that I have two invasive illnesses, uninvited guests, that inhabit my being.  Most the time, as long as I keep things the way they like it, I live in harmony with them.  When I let my life get too messy or filled with stress, they protest.  But I never assume that I am well, and I no longer draw lines at what I may or may not be capable of in terms of accomplishment.  I live with the knowledge that I could have had a very different life without these illnesses, that I lost my youth and most of my transitional thirties to the throes of trying to survive, but I do not lament any of it.  It does no good to waste energy on such frivolousness. I cannot attribute any of this wisdom to something I learned from the healthcare system I was a part of.  For the most part it failed me.  Those who did help for a time were either so expensive I could not afford them, they were undereducated, or their own issues caused them to become impotent in their profession.

I found my way through Abba’s leading.  It was unorthodox, and had little to do with our country’s healthcare system.  My story is a triumph, but that is not due to much help from the healthcare system in this country.  Most of it is from friends, family, and academics who were willing to support me, were committed to a lifetime of supporting me.  I cannot say my story is the norm.  Most people with severe mental illness do not have such support, so I am not surprised to see erosion of our society and the malfunction of a population, so largely ignored, thrown into a system so inept at doing its job.  I’m sorry, but until this country makes its mentally ill population a priority, the system used to treat them will be cut off at the knees and its population frustrated and hopeless while their illness continue to get worse. 

L