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For many of us who every morning strap on the old miner’s helmet and begin yet again the long descent into territories ruled by unseen dictators; who boldly confront the limitations and restrictions thrust down upon us like leaden capes by inexplicable, cruel fates; who summon the courage to confront yet another day replete with overwhelming obstacles and dark mysteries, who – Columbus-like – sail into an unknown sea teeming with tiny monsters both real and imagined – indeed, for all of us and others as well, Thanksgiving is a very special occasion indeed; or, more properly put, Thanksgiving is like a corpulent nightmare of wretched excess, unrealistic expectations, and unfair demands, served up dressed in bitter herbs on a harrowing stroll down memory lane where one is reminded of experiences one spends the rest of the year trying to forget.
Or not.
But these weepy reminders of what is so frequently the case overlook a social quagmire even more desolate than having to face one’s family on Thanksgiving, that is, having nowhere to go on Thanksgiving.
Recently, I read Harper's Index, and found some disturbing facts. For example, the Department of Defense health care spending is projected to increase by 81 percent over the next two decades. The estimated percentage of its current mental health care budged is 5 percent. Considering that the chance a service member's death is a suicide is 1 in 5 percent, this is inexcusable.
Other facts: one-third of service members are under age 25, but they account for one-half of all military suicides. So how do we prevent these unnecessary deaths?
To people with Schizophrenia, the world is an enigma that needs to be solved. We are always asking questions. "What", "how" and "why" are the words that permeate in the back of our minds. Though everyone asks themselves questions, the questions and answers are usually based upon rationality and reason. For people with Schizophrenia, information becomes scrambled and the answers to such questions become what our subconscious desires us to believe.
As we approach the Thanksgiving holiday here in the States I have to pause and take a few moments to share some of the things I have to be grateful for. There was a time in my life when this holiday was especially chaotic and downright insane. After entering recovery I have come to appreciate all that I have and how truly blessed I am.
Managing money while recovering from a mental illness is a topic I have never written about before and this sort of surprises me. It's important. It's important for everyone with a heartbeat--save for those too young to understand the often frustrating impact of finances on our lives. When you have been diagnosed with a mental illness and are working to recover, money takes on an entirely different meaning. It can, unfortunately, negatively impact our recovery.
According to the New York Times, for every soldier who has died on the battlefields of Afghanistan or Iraq, 25 will die by their own hand. This appalling suicide statistic should be more than enough to wake us up and start dealing head on with the epidemic of PTSD in the military.
I wish someone had asked me before naming a class of drugs “antipsychotics.” I mean, I understand that to psychiatrists it might not be a big deal, but to the medication-taking public out here, let me just say that the stigma around medication is about 10-fold when you say you’re on something called an “antipsychotic.”
Tell someone that you’re on “antipsychotics” sometime and watch them back away slowly. I’m not kidding. It’s like they think an axe is about to magically materialize and you’re about to use it to chop off their head.*
Way before I understood that my (now ex) husband abused me, he asked me if I was stuck on stupid, and I thought to myself, “No, I am stuck with Stupid.” Saying that statement aloud did not seem like a good idea, so I kept it to myself. Although quite pleased with the internal right-back-atcha dialogue going on inside my head, I didn’t take the time to reflect on the insults I’d wished I had delivered aloud until recently.
Any insult I once wished I said would have escalated the abuse. I knew it back then, and that is why I kept the nastiness to myself. In hindsight, the insults I did not deliver held value to me. They kept my mind busy so I could not absorb his words into myself. Instead of wondering if I was “stuck on stupid” or believing I was stupid, my mind protected me from that nonsense by making up insults. Busy in my own head, his words could not harm me; his words couldn’t penetrate the shield.
Christie Stewart
In this video, I explain some signs and symptoms that are commonly seen among people who self-injure. If you're a family member, friend or loved-one of someone you believe may be deliberately self-harming, these are some things to look out for that may help you bring up the issue with them.
After trauma it's very typical to feel completely disconnected from yourself, others and the world. We live in what I call 'default mode': We respond and react instead of create and act. Why is that a problem? Because one of the hallmarks of PTSD is a sense of powerlessness.
Where do we go from here? Most of the family thinks just to let her hit bottom and then if she reaches out to help any we can. Some want to just keep paying her bills and just let her sit in the house with no responsibilities. Never been on medication and impossible to get to her when she refuses to talk to ANYONE.
Help.
On the day we agreed to videochat to make things less awkward IRL she woke up with a migraine so we rescheduled to the day after, I made sure to assure her that it was okay and to take her time. Later that day, in the late evening we had a nice chat but suddenly she stopped replying, even though nothing had happened. The day after I texted her good morning and said I hope she was feeling a little better. she wouldn't open my texts.
A couple days after I sent her a longer text saying that even though I had only known her for a short time I care a lot for her and would like to know how she are doing, telling her I'm there for her, assuring her I'm not going anywhere even though things might not be very easy. She wouldn't open it.
A week later I sent a text saying not to feel bad about not answering and that I will be there when she is able to answer again. It's been two weeks since this and she still hasn't opened my texts. She hasn't been active at all.
I don't know what else I can do. I assumed she might have fallen into a depression. I have tried to just not think about it anymore, and I haven't that much but when I do it sort of kills me inside...