This are probably the most serious, personal, emotionally charged and I will always write. I'm not from self-pity or for any other selfish reasons. It is something that I think I need to share grate and my hope is that someone out there is something useful from these writings, whether it is to know you are not alone with your mental illness or better understanding of a subject that is still taboo, even in today's world.
no cure, only treatment
There is no cure for mental illness, only treatment. And the search for the right treatment can be an extremely difficult task. I have almost given up several times. Of course I did not, because I'm still alive and writing this. I have managed to become a survivor.
A brief warning:
I want to emphasize at the outset that I NOT a doctor. I can not see any medical advice, just friendly and sincere suggestions. Hopefully I can the people who need help in the right direction, but please note that I did not have all answers.
family History
Before my father's death in 2005, my parents were happily married for 50 years. During their marriage, my father would always surprise mother with poems he had written for her or gifts for no reason at all.
Mother always showered him with love by his favorite foods and surprising him with gifts too. All throughout my life I saw them show affection for each other, always holding hands in front of the TV, go on walks and tours, sometimes just holding each other in silence. It was a perfect marriage. They had three children: my sister (15 years older than me), my brother (12 years older), and then finally me. I was not an accident, but. My parents, my siblings and, later, wanted a third child. There were no drug or alcohol abuse in my immediate family. However, there were uncles and aunts, the alcoholics, also was a sex addict. Even while growing up, my brother, sister and I heard stories that some of our aunts, uncles, and a few distant cousins were often "fickle" or "eccentric". Later I learned that there are signs of emotional /psychological illnesses. Early Childhood With such older siblings, I felt almost like a child with only two groups of parents. I was usually surrounded by adults, so I never really with my own children age. In fact, mother has often said that I conduct self-discipline, makes it difficult for them to mad at me. Had I done something wrong - or even just perceived that I had - I would be one of my favorite toys to punish me. In all of my childhood, they only spanked me once and that was to operate on the street through traffic. I was a creative child. I would be constantly drawing pictures, building elaborate structures from Legos, or create stories with little toy train people. Without any childhood friends to speak, I managed to keep me entertained most of the time. But then there were other times when I would lose my creativity and would often sleep. I was often checked for anemia, and I have low blood pressure, but still in the area of security. But sometimes I just did not feel up to play.
� Late
Childhood
My childhood was later a slow-motion train wreck. Given the lack of my childhood friends while growing up in the school was very difficult for me socially. While my grades were quite good, I had problems adapting to the other children. I was a bit like an outsider, even at this early age. I felt more comfortable around the teacher as other students. But I managed.
There was a department store that mother and I visited. One of the undercover security guards who are shoplifters has an interest in me. For the record, she was an alcoholic, 50 + in age.
From my memory I was about seven years old when they wanted me to express my girlfriend. She told me that I was her friend and that nobody was to know about our relationship. Even now I do not want to talk about it in detail.
Surprisingly, the impact of this matter does not affect my grades or my self-esteem. I was still able to lead like nothing ever happened. But my alienation from the rest of the children grew. And my depression.
history repeats itself
Four years later, another incident, like the first one, came with an alcoholic aunt-by-marriage, ages 60 +. I was a team of time. Unlike the first situation, I loved this enormous aunt, and I felt real love in return, whether or not it was real or imagined. As before, I do not want to go into puberty details.
When Struck, I was now "programmed" for the work in much older women.
All through this, I still had periods of great creativity, followed by lethargic times. My grades were still very good in school, but I was a social misfit with my own children age.
When I am 13, things started getting worse in different levels.
Middle School
My first memory of self - - Disgust and suicidal thoughts were when I was 13 years old in the eighth class of the school. Always a Outcast from my colleagues, I found it difficult to relate to adults as well.
While other students were playing, on dates, and acting like "normal" 13-year-olds, I began to even more alienated. I still do not know how to interact with them.
On top of this, the hormones of puberty was raging throughout my body, and the only people I was working in Europe were the teachers. After all, I have experience with women even older than they were. I developed a benign, but extremely powerful obsession for a particular woman, who still gently echoes to this day, 24 years later.
I was a constant target of the other students. I was an outsider, I had no place in their World view.
I began rebelling. My attendance and grades began to beat and I want to do things to deliberately cause a reaction, such as bleaching my hair white and die a blue dash down the front.
I was obsessed with death and dying, before particularly suicide, planning various scenarios and play with the connection to my actions.
In my leisure time, I would be in music, especially bands that do not fit the mainstream: The Cars, Blondie, The B-52's, Devo , Talking Heads. I was in a clique all myself.
I was often accused of taking drugs (I never), but none of the faculty or staff seemed to care. I was just a novelty, someone to laugh when I do not around.
High School
The first year of high school was a continuation of the hell I went through the middle in the school. But within the first year, I began to learn to hide in the crowd, stay in the background, do not try to cover all waves.
It also began a roller coaster of grades, from A-and B's high Low D's and F's. There was no logic behind my learning. I was either very focused and in control, or I was lost in a sea of emotions raging. I still had recurrent thoughts of suicide periodically.
At end of my freshman year, I have a friendly teacher. She began to teach me, tennis and music. But before the summer was over, we had to be lovers.
Positive Influence
In our unique case, the initial results of our relationship was a positive one. She gave me a feeling of self-esteem, improved my self-esteem, a confidant for the confusing emotions I had in me. Although it is against the law and social acceptance, it had a healthy effect on me, at least for a while anyway.
tragedy
Then the last day of my school year, a student that I had really admired and respected, committed suicide. Once again, my emotions were scrambled.
I continue to struggle throughout high school with these terrible lows, the occasional natural highs. Even my attendance and grades reflected my state of mind.
too much pressure
As time passed, the burden of a relationship with a teacher began to take its toll. The secrecy, suspicion faculty and students, the paranoia - it was all a weight on my shoulders, and hers.
The relationship wilted in the summer of 1989, and it was the case when I college.
A New Beginning
Then my mood has been a dramatic change. In autumn 1989, I never felt better. Everything seemed perfect to me then and even now when I think about it.
High A Natural
My college life was absolutely phenomenal! I never felt free and more control over my life than ever before. There were older students who befriended me, and I felt at home in this new environment.
1989 was a stellar year for many reasons. For one, I was aware of spirituality, something that never interested me before. I ended an unhealthy relationship and contributed to a music group. I have been to a class "A" student, and my presence was almost perfect. I was also in tennis and got to come in the form. It was a perfect time.
Things were exacerbated by the steady 1991, despite the setbacks with the band. I have great concern to my health, more friends with a New Age attitude, and appreciate life and all it had to offer. Everyday seemed to be filled with wonderful possibilities.
Turning the Tide
Then in 1992, I was able to land the leading role of Harold Chase in the play "Harold and Maude." I ended up in another failed relationship with the actress who played my mother, but now in another relationship - a woman I met through the college.
Things were great. Too big, in fact. I was riding a high, with no end in sight. But there were cracks around the corners of my world that I had ignored. What I know now but did not know then was that reality was about to do, a large flap on me.
Familiar feelings
It was Christmas 1992, the first, when I felt something was not right. To this day, it is difficult to describe. It was a series of small things. Sometimes I would panic if my lady friend touched me. To see how the Christmas tree made me break into tears. In jeopardy, my family when I really want to have me.
And thoughts of death and dying were entering my mind again. I even began to question my spiritual beliefs. Was there really an afterlife? Does life have any meaning at all? Maybe life was just a waste of time, only a long distraction of remind us of our mortality.
I not my concern, especially because I do not understand. And also, all the others around me seemed okay with life. Why disturb them?
I had already received my college degree in the summer of 1992, but I decided I needed to go back. I really wanted to become a journalist, even though my skills were definitely in mathematics. Maybe if I stayed busy enough, those feelings creeping dissipate.
So would I went back to college in 1993. How wonderfully in 1989 was, 1993 was its polar opposite. I tasted the sky for quite a while. Now it was time for hell.
break Around the Edges
By the end of 1992, my emotions seemed unstable, but I have no idea why. My family was in order. I met an absolutely wonderful woman. I had my college degree, although I still could not find employment.
But I decided that what was the matter with me, I could change it around. I decided to 1993 is even better than in 1989, a year when I felt a tremendous increase in positive mental and emotional growth.
I decided to go back to school and my major to journalism, writing my second love, music That my first one.
My first manic episode
But something snapped in me. The warning signs were all there, and also my family and friends warned me that I not only me. I ignored them because they simply do not understand. I'm going to improve my life like never before!
So I have two journalism classes. By why stop there? If I as a journalist, I should know about law, I have a legal course for police recruits. And because I should know more about human behavior, I have a anthropology class as well. Plus a management course taught by the college president himself.
And while I'm at it, why not more about religion and cultures? After adding that the philosophy course to my class list, I decided I should know more about the area I live in, so I have a class Appalachian folk. And to top things out, I decided to learn French, for no apparent reason.
Eight college courses in one semester. Everyone told me it could not be done, but I knew I would prove wrong.
As the semester started, I suddenly decided to write two novels. But I wanted it so factually accurate as possible. So I went into the library to examine the books for research. I have read the books on the flora and fauna of the various regions of the world. I have read the books on geology, meteorology, marine life, the history of ships and other books about World cultures.
I also needed to be more mentally stronger. Despite my Christian environment, I have a New Age path. I have books on channeling, crystal communications, find my Higher Power interior, psychological self-defense and other esoteric topics.
I also decided I need to work more on my body so I came with a daily 90 minute workout schedule.
Feeling as a god
I felt great! I was in control. I made myself into a modern day renaissance man. I would be intellectually powerful, physically fit. I would be more than human.
Surprisingly, my scores were unbelievably high. Everything I did for the class would earn me an 'A' I myself beyond what was expected of me. If I were to observe a network of news channels, I would watch a videotape of the other networks, so I could watch all of them. Why a five-page report, if I could write a ten page instead? I flew through the anthropology videotape series. And I would always at least one more chapter in my French class.
I began to quit sleep, or sleep very little, if required. I had no appetite and weight loss was faster than I thought intended.
By March, I learned the hard way that there are limitations and that I am only human. And a man that needs help desperately.
The Crash
I was at the race smoothly through January and February, but until early March launched the first things shifting.
The scary incident was a "trip" to a newsroom in Knoxville for one of my journalism classes. While visiting the newsroom, I had this constant urge to bolt from the building. I do not pay much attention to what was said. I felt sick during lunch and just wanted to return home. The journey back to my city was like bad.
An overactive mind
I remember that I wanted to sleep more, but could not - I do not let me. I constantly think about everything I wanted to achieve, I had conversations earlier in the day, dreams of what I wanted to have happen, new ideas for other novels. I felt like I was trapped in a room with multiple televisions blaring loud all at once, and I could not turn them off or lower the volume.
the ausfransenden
I started missing the leadership class, the College President taught, very angry him.
During one of my journalism classes, we received a list of facts, and we had to write a news article from them. I wrote the first sentence but not like it. So I scratched it will be. I tried again and wrote the exact same sentence again, word for word. I scratched it out. Then again, I have the same sentence. I was suddenly afraid. My mind was stuck in loop.
Things grew even worse in my next class, French. We received a basic examination, the way I usually whipped cream and would be an "A" on it. This time, however, I spent several minutes just trying to write my name. I forgot how to write in italics. I started shaking.
Scared and Confused
Later I told my lady friend what had happened. She was worried, because they had relatives with mental illness. It was the first person to use that phrase about me. At first I felt insulted, but at another level I knew that she was correct. There was something wrong with me.
When she hugged me, I had a sudden flight-or-fight response. My whole body went rigid and I could not Hug her back. They understood and supported off.
I started missing classes. I did not want to be around people. In fact, I did not feel like house.
In from mid-March came a Blizzard, rare for this area. This was the final impetus for me. I was hit shortly before bottom.
Rock Paranoid Psychosis
<-strong> When the snow storm came, my family and I were basically trapped in our house. In a way, it was comforting to know I did not have to college for a while. But then I also felt uncomfortable to put in the house with my mother and father. By now, they knew something was terribly wrong with cycling me.
My emotions were quickly in a perfect sequence. I would start crying uncontrollably for no apparent reason, I would then feel "normal" and confused what had happened, then I have a feeling of total ecstasy, that everything would be nice again and that I have everything under control. Then I went back to normal and feeling confused, and finally I would like to break into tears again. My moods were swinging like a perfectly balanced pendulum.
Mother gave me a bowl of soup. First I cried, because the loving gesture, then I thought it would poisoned.
I would try to block my bedroom door at night so nobody would come and hurt me while I tried to sleep. But then at other times, I started thinking that I would help my family if I just end my life. All this seemed reasonable at the time.
Crashing Down
For about two weeks, I had this strange delusions and mood swings. Finally, these thoughts have been, and the only feeling left was severe depression. My mood would not swing. I stayed depressed.
I dropped several of my courses with the exception of three (which later became "F's"). I just want a fistful of my closest friends, but that was it. I was beginning to withdraw from world.
But unlike many people, I admitted that I was sick, and I've tried to seek help. Unfortunately, despite all their progress, the mental health care is still in the dark Ages.
Bad Medicine
For In the interest of brevity, I am only goes to certain aspects of my life from 1993 to 1999. I also had on so many drugs, I can not remember them all, or the complete sequence in which I tried them.
I went to both my family doctor and a state hospital for the mentally ill. Her first diagnosis was that I suffered from severe clinical depression with an anxiety component, plus had signs of obsessive disorders /obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD),
to the top of the drugs Game First Drug
The they presented I was on Paxil. It drug me completely. I gained 30 pounds within a few weeks, weight, I'm still fighting with today. I could not work, to college or get a job. I was a zombie.
The last part of 1993 and 1994, most of them are completely lost on me. I slept through the day, every day is not unlike the days before.
So doctors have tried me on Prozac. I had more energy, but still struggled with mood issues. I was able to work enough to get another music band in the second half of the year of 1994.
At some point I tried Zoloft. I could not tell the difference from Prozac. And they put me on Effexor. It increases my only thoughts of suicide. Then I was still on a different antidepressant (can not remember who now) and they contributed more than others.
By mid-1995, I was able to get a job on a computer help desk. My presence was sloppy at times, if I had severe episodes of depression.
A doctor put me on Remeron, but after three days of continuous sleep, I had to quit it. So I was back on one of the earlier medications.
Bad Turn of Events
I felt like I just existed through much of 1996. I have some memories of this year, and the few I do have are bad. An aunt died in an accident and my brother almost died in the apartment fire.
My suicidal thoughts to the early to mid 1997. I fired from my job at the Help Desk. Later that summer, I came with a benign cult just to have a kind of social life and to find a distraction from my negative feelings.
pills, tablets, pills
By early autumn 1997, I got another job at the place I was fired from. I think I was on Wellbutrin and Luvox until then. I have Anafranil at a certain time - not help.
Around 1999, I started to hit my Xanax for anxiety and panic attacks, to which I was physically addicted.
After all these drugs, plus Geodon, Risperdal, Buspar, and others, I can not remember, I still suffered from a severe bought of depression, followed by racing thoughts of suicide (known as aggravated depression, a characteristic shared bipolar disorder),
Some things helped a little, but nothing was very good. I was barely functional at best. When my father was diagnosed with cancer and diabetes in August 1999, things only got worse.
pushed to the brink
With exception of the terrorist attacks of 9/11/01, the years between 2000 and 2001 were essentially the status quo in relation to my mental health. Even if the father was sick, nobody could say it. He still looked 20 years younger than his age and appeared to be in excellent form.
Work was more stressful due to several circumstances not worth mentioning. But I like best as I could.
Due to a lack of Xanax and major upheaval at work, I started to drink in 2003. I was never an alcoholic. I did not drink every day, did not conceal the fact that I drink. But alcohol is like a dice for me: It can really cheer me Upwards or it can express myself even more depressed. It was always a gamble. But it has helped me, me on my ration Xanax. (do not try this yourself!)
Making a fool of Myself
My potable and was Xanax intake also increases, and I had a terribly embarrassing episode from it. The school nurse knew I had problems with me and would talk often.
One night, I came close to overdosing on Xanax and vodka and by e-mail, so you they know that if I should die tonight she was not responsible, and I thanked her for all their help. The next day, I totally forgot about the e-mail - Xanax-induced amnesia - until they found me. I was immediately transferred to a therapist and psychiatrist.
find good doctors
After with some bad experiences with psychiatrists and therapists in the 1990s and early 2000s, I thought I would never return to a others . Fortunately, these two people were (still are) excellent professionals. From 1993 until the end of 2004, I never had doctors, as thoughtful and as intelligent as these two people.
By mid-December, I really cleaned my act. I quit drinking and reduced my Xanax intake significantly. But the real reason was, I knew I had to remain functional in the case of my father needed immediate help.
death in the family
My father died on 4 January 2005 - Three days after my birthday.
Somehow, in any form, I felt more stable than I had in years. My therapist said it was because I had a real, external reason to feel depressed, instead of irrational depression I normally had.
I remained strong for my mother, brother and sister. I was the perfect model of mental health. No alcohol, very little Xanax. The psychiatrist has me on Lexapro, which I am still here to this day. Previously, it was one of the best medicine for me. But it was not yet perfect.
unable
By mid-2005, I collapsed emotionally. The stability was gone. I have the Family Medical Leave Act (FMLA), by one month of work. The psychiatrist was concerned that the Lexapro was not good enough, so they put me on another antidepressant. A big mistake!
I never understood before why some people would themselves (self-mutilation). Now I did.
cutting Myself
I not really remember how it began, but I took a razor and began to cut my wrists. My intention was not suicide, but if I had hit an artery, I would have not minded. My therapist after this action as "dance with death." He said it was a first step towards suicide.
There are two components that I've noticed when self-cutting. For one, there is a rush of endorphins that the shaft after a painful physical experience. And two, my mental depression has a physical manifestation. I could on a fake smile and a cheerful-sounding voice, but the cuts on my wrists to tell the true story.
One night I cut myself so badly I had to go to the ER for a graere destruction of the thumb. Die Klinge hatte rutschte und ging rechts durch das Bild. Ich versteckte meine andere Teilstecke aus der Notfall-Personal, aber ich bin mir sicher, dass sie wusste, was ich war bis zu. Aber ich auf einer gefelschten Lecheln und ein frohlich klingende Stimme, und sie nicht fragen, jede weitere Fragen. Vielleicht ist sie wirklich nicht wissen wollen? Wer kann sagen?
Medicinal Verenderung
After dieser, ich liea sofort meine Psychiater und Therapeuten wissen, was geschehen war. Sie hat mir sofort Reckblick auf Lexapro und dann eine Stimmung Stabilisator genannt Ambilify. Innerhalb weniger Tage, den Drang zu schaden mich schnell verschwunden, und ich habe nicht absichtlich verletzt mich since.
By nun, die Menschen bei der Arbeit wusste, war ich noch ein emotionales Wrack. Mein Chef wollte mich zu bleiben, aber Human Resources wurden nach einer Moglichkeit suchte, um mich von dort. Sie konnten Feuer anderen Frau, die hatte auch Selbstmordgedanken Tendenzen - sie hat heute ihre Anwesenheit als meine excuse.
And Teilnahme war schlampige zu. Mit der Ambilify und Lexapro, ich wusste, ich war ein Schritt in die richtige Richtung, aber etwas war noch missing.
By Herbst 2006, mein Psychiater links, und ein neues Gescheft hat ihren Platz. Er studierte meine Aufzeichnungen sorgfeltig und gefragt, ob ich jemals versucht Depakote - ein Medikament fer die bipolare Storung. Ich hatte nicht, so dass er mich auf it.
konnte dies die Antwort sein?
I bin nach wie vor zu einer Amateur-Schriftsteller zu nahe an der Beschreibung der Unterschied es machte mich fehlen. Ich fehlte mich wie ich endlich aufgewacht aus einem sehr langen, trostlos, dester und schrecklich Alptraum. Meine Gedanken waren weder trege noch schnell. Der Gedanke von Selbstmord nun schien fremd me.
Still, ich verlor meine Arbeit aufgrund von Fehlzeiten. Doch statt der Planung mein Tod, begann ich die Suche nach einem neuen ein. Ich fehlte mich ein Gefehl der Hoffnung aber ein, dass ist realistisch. Ich konnte jetzt meine thoughts.
I Filz "normal."
But nur fer eine Weile. Die Symptome kroch wieder in meinem Leben, und die emotionale Abwertsspirale kam einmal again.
I fehlte besiegt einmal again.
Today
I've schriftliche dieser Artikel eber meine psychische Gesundheit deutlich mehr als vor einem Jahr. Zu der Zeit, fehlte ich mich wie Depakote war die Antwort auf meine Gebete. Leider war es nicht. Weder wurde Lithium.
I "m, die Lexapro, Abilify, und ein Cocktail von Medikamenten zur Bekempfung von Angst. Sie helfen, aber ich habe noch einen langen Weg vor go.
I haben versucht, Arbeit zu finden, ohne Erfolg. Meine naterlichen Zustand des Geistes ist eine depressive ein, und ich heufig fehlende Energie zu tun die Dinge, die ich genieaen, viel weniger Aktiviteten und Aufgaben, die getan werden muss. Schriftlich zu sein scheint meine einzige Steckdose und scheint therapeutic.
Out der Verzweiflung, Ich suche in SSI (Behinderung), um zu sehen, wenn ich Anspruch auf Unterstetzung. Ich habe nicht alles Geld auf dem Soundtrack habe ich geschrieben, und so weit meine freiberuflichen schriftlich wurde ein washout.
But ... Ich werde noch gelingt, survive.
�
Shannon McDowell http://shannonmcdowell.com
Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/?expert=Shannon_McDowell
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