Mental Health

I've published and deleted this post a few times. It makes me very uneasy having it up for anyone to read.  I don't typically discuss my experiences with mental illness with people I don't know, but I wrote it in hopes it will help others that may be suffering and go towards putting an end to the stigma attached to mental illness. It may not help anybody, I don't know. I'll probably take it down again one of these days.

I’ve been fighting depression, anxiety and suicidal thoughts nearly all of my life. I first felt something ‘wrong’ in my head when I was nine years old, although at the time (and for many years afterwards) I didn’t know what ‘it’ was. I didn’t have a label for it. I would suddenly feel sad or scared for no reason. I was frozen with fear and confusion much of the time and I couldn’t understand how everyone else around me could be so happy. To top it off, for some reason I would feel guilt and shame for feeling that way. It was pretty confusing, especially for a kid. I would often fake a stomach ache so I didn’t have to go to school and deal with the confusion caused by the constant barrage of sound coming from the students and teachers.

I learned to adapt socially in junior high by mimicking the behavior of the ‘popular’ kids. How they behaved, how they dressed. It was purely superficial and it did help me fit in better, but I was still struggling internally. I first started receiving suicidal impulses when I was fifteen. I didn’t understand where they were coming from or what they meant, but I didn’t feel they were coming from my own mind. I had a perfectly normal and healthy middle class life externally; loving parents, food and shelter. Why did I want to die? At my own hand?

I say ‘depression’ and ‘anxiety’, but I didn’t know that’s what those were. I would just be a teenager going about day to day life when suddenly this black wave would hit me out of nowhere and try to drag me back with it from wherever it came from. I would fight for however long I needed to and eventually it would go away and I could get back to life again. It went like that for years; healthy/sick, healthy/sick, healthy/sick, on and on and on. I got pretty good with dealing with it. I found that massive amounts of caffeine would get me out of bed and to work in the morning. If I was too ‘up’ at night, I could drink myself to sleep. Seemed to work for me. It never occurred to me to see a doctor about it.

Twelve years ago the cycling became too much for my first wife and she urged me to go to the doctor. My low period had been going on longer than usual and suicide had been on my mind almost constantly, so I agreed. I went into the doctor’s office and she began asking me questions about how I was feeling. To my surprise, I broke down and started crying (not something a kid from the farms of Missouri is 'supposed to do' in public). I told her that something inside me wanted me to kill myself and it was wearing me down. She sent me to the Cook County emergency room where they put me in the blue ward. A psychiatrist came by, asked me a few questions and diagnosed me as ‘Bipolar II’. He gave me an antidepressant and  an anticonvulsant and sent me home (they couldn’t keep me more than a day since I was uninsured. Hospitals and insurance companies are a whole other story). 

I’d heard of bipolar disorder but was surprised to hear that’s what I was. After a few days the medication started helping a bit and I began researching bipolar disorder. I found that back in the day I would have been called ‘manic depressive’. The major depression stuff sounded like me. I was unsure about the hypomania/mania, but I took their word for it. Over time I went to a couple of other psychiatrists and they both agreed that I was bipolar II. They tried a number of medications on me; various antidepressants, anticonvulsants, antipsychotics. The experimenting can do a number on your head, but they finally found a combination that worked for me and got the suicidal impulse out of my brain long enough for me to getting my life back on track.

I won’t go into further detail about my experiences with psychiatrists and medication except to say that I’ve been off of meds, I’ve been back on meds. I’m currently on citalopram. I’d like to say it does the trick, but the suicidal impulse was back just last week. I fought it off and I’m fine today. I don’t know what tomorrow will be like. Mental illness is incredibly frustrating, but I’ve come to terms with it as being a part of who I am. If I’m under medicated, the suicidal impulse eventually creeps back in. If I’m over medicated, I don’t feel the desire to create. If I don’t feel the desire to create, I start sliding back into depression and the suicidal impulse creeps back in. It’s a continuous balancing act and it can be exhausting, but if I want to stay alive, it’s something I have to engage and deal with on a daily basis.

I’ve never fully agreed with my diagnosis. I’ve done twelve years of research and I’m fairly certain I’m (x), but I’m not a psychiatrist so it’s not for me to say. But I do agree that I’m mentally ill. Major depressive disorder, obsessive compulsive disorder, acute social anxiety disorder, whatever else is on the list. It’s a part of who I am (I feel it's important to note that it's not WHO I am). If I’m going to live, I have to live with it. It’s the voice that wants me to take my life a few times every year. It’s also the voice that keeps me at the drawing board ten hours a day. It’s a part of who I am, and I need it to be who I am, for better or worse.

Suicide is a symptom of depression. If a fox is caught in a trap, it will chew it’s leg off to escape. Suicide is the mentally ill mind’s way of escaping the trap. Depression is painful. It’s not ‘break your arm’ painful, or ‘my team lost the World Series’ painful. It’s not even ‘loss of a loved’ one painful. Depression can be excruciating, and there’s a good chance someone you know or love is experiencing it right at this moment. As low as I’ve been at different points in my life, I’ve always been fortunate to have friends and family around me to help keep me afloat. Others aren’t fortunate enough to have an external support system. If you know of someone that’s suffering, or even if you suspect that they’re suffering, reach out. It’s possible what they’re experiencing is unbearable. If you’re in a position to help them carry their load, please do so. It could save their life.

If you’re not mentally ill and would like to have a better understanding of what it's like to experience mental illness, I wrote a book about it called ‘Driven by Lemons’. You can find it easily enough online. And please don’t misinterpret this as a shameless plug. Check it out from a library. Seek out other books, films, music, etc. created by mentally ill people. The more that people understand what the mentally ill are going through, the less stigma there will be attached to it and the easier it will be for them to get to a healthy place.

Thank you for reading.