I spend a lot of time chatting with my imaginary friend Portia
about all sorts of things. We have a lot in common. Both of us are on medication for anxiety (I'm not telling her secrets, since her openness in discussing it is partially the reason I'm more or less okay talking about it myself) and we both have some issues stemming from repeated incidents in childhood.
We refer to this commonality as "riding the crazy train," a sort of funny way of talking about a serious issue. Am I embarrassed or ashamed of having to take medication? No, not anymore. I have no control over the chemical balance of my head, I can't just decide to feel better and not worry about stuff. I have spent long periods of time unmedicated, too. It's not debilitating most of the time, but with the amount of stress I've had over the injuries and work comp issues and some other things that are a little more private, I have been taking medication for a little over two years now. There was a short period of time (about six months) that I decided to give it a try without, but for now at least, I need to be on my anti anxiety drugs.
There are those who believe that it's a weakness, being mentally ill. That people should just be able to suck it up and control themselves. It doesn't work that way. I wish it did.
Funny the stigma attached to mental illness. I personally have a difficult time saying I have a mental illness, because I don't feel sick. I have a hard time equating my situation, which is easily controlled with medication, to that of the guy wandering around downtown wrapped in a blanket and a layer of filth and screaming obscenities at passing cars. Degrees, I guess.
And I wonder if that guy had gotten help when he was younger, would his situation be as dire as it is now?
In my family, there are varying degrees, too. My dad, who is a good man, is not a stable person. He has suffered from depression and anxiety and paranoia and anger and HUGE mood swings and a host of other stuff forever. But he can't admit that he's not well, and the people around him have suffered horribly. It makes me sad, because he has spent his entire life unhappy and angry and ill, and blamed everyone else for what's essentially a chemical imbalance.
Many years ago, a doctor prescribed an ssri medication for him, telling him that it would help him feel better and help control the high blood pressure, too.
And wow. What an amazing difference. He really wasn't the same person at all. He felt wonderful. He showered without the urging of my mother! He laughed a lot. He was calm. Rational. Even.
Happy.
And he felt so good that he decided he didn't need to be medicated. And that was the end of that. He went back to his old self. The mercurial and angry man who liked to make people cry, was sure that 'they' were going through his mail, and was a victim of the 'sons of bitches' who were trying to steal his retirement.
Sometimes, I feel sad that he's been this way all his life. It isn't his fault. It's no one's fault, really. I am sometimes a little angry that my mom has enabled him a bit, too, by refusing to listen to anything from anyone that she construes as 'negative.' She doesn't want to believe he's anything but healthy, which is understandable.
But it has kept people at arm's length, and has hurt our family in so many ways.
I don't know that mental illness is catching, but I know that Mom has gotten more and more strange over the years, too.
I no longer bring it up to her, or not much. They're on a vacation right now, and were very nervous about the trip, deciding that 'gang bangers pick on old people' and Mom was making herself sick over it. Despite my best efforts to show her how small the chances of being attacked by gangs (Do your sister and her husband hide behind bushes and dart from place to place in fear for their lives???) she listened to my father, who thinks everyone is trying to either steal from them or murder them all the time. I suggested that she might benefit from taking something like Xanax, and she said, "I'm on entirely too many medications right now." (she takes like 3... has osteoporosis for goodness sake...)
And I told her that I take an occasional Xanax, and that I'm being medicated for anxiety because I do NOT want to end up like Dad, sick and scared and seeing evil lurking around every corner.
So she asked me how the weather was over here.
::sigh::
All of our family crazy would be funny in a movie, I guess.
Especially the scene in about 1976 where the entire family went to see a counselor. When the counselor asked us why we were there, my dad said, "There's something wrong with everyone in my family. They all seem crazy!" As I sat there, openmouthed, he added, "I'm fine. I just can't understand what's wrong with all of them!"
I left home early because of advice from that same counselor.
I could no longer live there.
I'll have more to say about it later on, but making that decision was one of the best things I've ever done for myself, even though it was a heart and gut and soul wrenching thing that tore things apart for me for a long, long time. I was a wreck for years, but
I had the great good fortune to marry a man who has an amazing ability to really SEE situations and people, and be able to articulate what's wrong in situations and offer insight that most people would miss.
He's helped me heal.
When I left home, I hated my father and greatly disliked my mother.
I no longer feel that way. I love my parents and feel sorry that they have spent so many years hurting.
They are not bad people, and they did they best they could within the limitations they had with my dad's mental illness and a lot of other stresses.
They loved us then and they do now.
I think my anxiety stems less from what happened to me as a child and young adult than from the chemical imbalances that run in families. (I haven't even started on the issues suffered by Sanctimonious, my youngest brother.)
Certainly not blaming myself.. and wow, am I ever grateful for modern pharmaceuticals!
We refer to this commonality as "riding the crazy train," a sort of funny way of talking about a serious issue. Am I embarrassed or ashamed of having to take medication? No, not anymore. I have no control over the chemical balance of my head, I can't just decide to feel better and not worry about stuff. I have spent long periods of time unmedicated, too. It's not debilitating most of the time, but with the amount of stress I've had over the injuries and work comp issues and some other things that are a little more private, I have been taking medication for a little over two years now. There was a short period of time (about six months) that I decided to give it a try without, but for now at least, I need to be on my anti anxiety drugs.
There are those who believe that it's a weakness, being mentally ill. That people should just be able to suck it up and control themselves. It doesn't work that way. I wish it did.
Funny the stigma attached to mental illness. I personally have a difficult time saying I have a mental illness, because I don't feel sick. I have a hard time equating my situation, which is easily controlled with medication, to that of the guy wandering around downtown wrapped in a blanket and a layer of filth and screaming obscenities at passing cars. Degrees, I guess.
And I wonder if that guy had gotten help when he was younger, would his situation be as dire as it is now?
In my family, there are varying degrees, too. My dad, who is a good man, is not a stable person. He has suffered from depression and anxiety and paranoia and anger and HUGE mood swings and a host of other stuff forever. But he can't admit that he's not well, and the people around him have suffered horribly. It makes me sad, because he has spent his entire life unhappy and angry and ill, and blamed everyone else for what's essentially a chemical imbalance.
Many years ago, a doctor prescribed an ssri medication for him, telling him that it would help him feel better and help control the high blood pressure, too.
And wow. What an amazing difference. He really wasn't the same person at all. He felt wonderful. He showered without the urging of my mother! He laughed a lot. He was calm. Rational. Even.
Happy.
And he felt so good that he decided he didn't need to be medicated. And that was the end of that. He went back to his old self. The mercurial and angry man who liked to make people cry, was sure that 'they' were going through his mail, and was a victim of the 'sons of bitches' who were trying to steal his retirement.
Sometimes, I feel sad that he's been this way all his life. It isn't his fault. It's no one's fault, really. I am sometimes a little angry that my mom has enabled him a bit, too, by refusing to listen to anything from anyone that she construes as 'negative.' She doesn't want to believe he's anything but healthy, which is understandable.
But it has kept people at arm's length, and has hurt our family in so many ways.
I don't know that mental illness is catching, but I know that Mom has gotten more and more strange over the years, too.
I no longer bring it up to her, or not much. They're on a vacation right now, and were very nervous about the trip, deciding that 'gang bangers pick on old people' and Mom was making herself sick over it. Despite my best efforts to show her how small the chances of being attacked by gangs (Do your sister and her husband hide behind bushes and dart from place to place in fear for their lives???) she listened to my father, who thinks everyone is trying to either steal from them or murder them all the time. I suggested that she might benefit from taking something like Xanax, and she said, "I'm on entirely too many medications right now." (she takes like 3... has osteoporosis for goodness sake...)
And I told her that I take an occasional Xanax, and that I'm being medicated for anxiety because I do NOT want to end up like Dad, sick and scared and seeing evil lurking around every corner.
So she asked me how the weather was over here.
::sigh::
All of our family crazy would be funny in a movie, I guess.
Especially the scene in about 1976 where the entire family went to see a counselor. When the counselor asked us why we were there, my dad said, "There's something wrong with everyone in my family. They all seem crazy!" As I sat there, openmouthed, he added, "I'm fine. I just can't understand what's wrong with all of them!"
I left home early because of advice from that same counselor.
I could no longer live there.
I'll have more to say about it later on, but making that decision was one of the best things I've ever done for myself, even though it was a heart and gut and soul wrenching thing that tore things apart for me for a long, long time. I was a wreck for years, but
I had the great good fortune to marry a man who has an amazing ability to really SEE situations and people, and be able to articulate what's wrong in situations and offer insight that most people would miss.
He's helped me heal.
When I left home, I hated my father and greatly disliked my mother.
I no longer feel that way. I love my parents and feel sorry that they have spent so many years hurting.
They are not bad people, and they did they best they could within the limitations they had with my dad's mental illness and a lot of other stresses.
They loved us then and they do now.
I think my anxiety stems less from what happened to me as a child and young adult than from the chemical imbalances that run in families. (I haven't even started on the issues suffered by Sanctimonious, my youngest brother.)
Certainly not blaming myself.. and wow, am I ever grateful for modern pharmaceuticals!
It's a strange old world. People say exercise really helps maintain mental health. Then we read about celeb sports men and women who open up about their own mental ill-health. So what is going on there?
ReplyDeleteThen we are encouraged more generally to be talk about mental health, the up shot of which is that more of us recognsie and are diagnosed for ilnesses (rightly so) which are then considered a tax burden. Bonkers.
And then there is the crazy conflict of pharama companies with big fat profit margins, widening the licences of medications to increase their application and profitability, whilst massaging mental health professionals and trial statistics to prescribe their products. Not conspiracy theory - just profits and ethics colliding.
Then there is the seemingly eternal ignorance about anything mental health related that seems to be the default setting for society.
Then there is this absolutely strange world we have created that totally plays our old fashioned brains like a vegas slot machine until it breaks - or we get rich - or both.
And in it all, in the cross fire, are people. Real people who have very real difficulties and just deprerately want to get better.
You are doing a brilliant job of stearing your way through all that, and more, to feel well in yourself. As ever, wishing you good health and a long life - hear is to you. *clink*
There are so many things that I could comment on but I won't. Lots of mental health issues in my family while growing up, too. Depression is a biggie.
ReplyDeleteI'm curious what the therapist told you that made you leave home. My first thought was that the therapist's advice was so bad that you felt leaving home was your only choice, but that's because I've experienced several bad therapists myself, so I'm projecting.
You dad sounds much like my grandmother, who never had anything positive to say to anyone in our family. Somehow, non-family members thought she was just the sweetest thing...
Glad that you found a solution to your problem. If it's helping you then that's all that matters. Too bad you can't get your parents to see how better their lives might be.
Ellen
One of the things that irks me the most, is when people (even well meaning people) actually think you have a choice and say things like, you need to choose happiness. Yeah, right, like it's that simple and if it was that simple, why the heck would anyone choose otherwise.
ReplyDeleteI had a 3 yr stint on meds, what a difference it made to my family!!! I was a closed,curled up ball of anger,worry and tears before that.any of my kids would tap me on the shoulder and I would roar at them.....whhaaaaaaaaaaaaaat???
ReplyDeleteI'm not like that now, but can feel the sadness creeping, so I may be back on them soon after a 6 year break.
same as you I feel no shame, definitely no control over a chemical imbalance in your brain!!!
Mental illness is one of those things like many other "unseen Ilnesses" It is ignored often by those and there is definite stigma attached by some. I look at it , as I always have. I have Lupus and Fibromyalgia, and on a good day , you cannot see anything wrong with me, but off meds ,it is very clear I have a debilitating illness. Alos Diabetes, does not "show " but still must be treated. My sister suffers from BiPolar diorder and has been by times quite ill. but is now managed on meds and her own swet self . I have worked in Mental health for 20 years and We try so hard to remove the stigma, but there is a lot of history to overcome. Good on you for talking about it , it can only do good!
ReplyDeleteI've struggled with depression my entire life, but I've never considered myself an anxious person. You know that in the last several months I've struggled with anxiety. Most of the time, it comes out of the blue without me knowing what brought it on, and looking back over my life I can see that I've struggled with it for most of my adulthood. I just dealt with it the best I could, because it was my normal. Lately, my normal has been too much for me to handle on my own. I'm glad I've had you and Portia to talk to about it, and I just really hope I can get a handle on this - with or without medicine. I'm tired of not being able to function. So thanks for being there. :)
ReplyDeleteMy ex-husband (as you know) took himself out with his prescription meds. His intent, I believe was not to end his life, but to not be depressed that day, and took too much. He suffered from bipolar, manic depression, and self medication. He was dismissed as a child as just having the "good old Italian Irish temper" and his behavior as a boy being a boy.
ReplyDeleteYoungest is medicated now for a non-specified mood disorder. What does that mean? Who knows. But the result of it is that he is learning how he fits in, how to manage his anxiety and frustration levels, so that eventually he won't need to be medicated. people judge me for this choice, and honestly.... I don't give a fuck.
At the end of the day, I will do ANYTHING so he doesn't end up just like his father. And there is no shame in that.
In grad school I worked at the University health clinic for a while. The director was also a psychiatrist there. While giving me a brief orientation, and reminding me if I recognized anyone coming in for counseling never mention it to them or anyone else (pre-HIPAA days), said something that always stuck with me. "It isn't the people who are getting help that you have to worry about. It is those who refuse help or won't seek it." There shouldn't be a stigma in seeking treatment for mental illness. There is, but there shouldn't be.
ReplyDelete