Blogs
Last night, I attended an amazing "Legislative Social" hosted by our local NAMI Fairfield (CT) affiliate. What an evening of possibility, of hope.
Thanks to the efforts of this strong NAMI chapter and its members, about a dozen state legislators and an audience of over 100 were there to hear about Supportive Housing, Young Adult Services, School-based Services, and Mental/Medical Community Health Services.
There were presentations and stories from successful programs such as Bridge House (International Clubhouse Model, in Bridgeport CT), Yale's Integrated Care Partners Project, supported housing programs, YAS (young adult services) and a new initiative for School Based Health Centers in Connecticut.
Much of the information you'll read about teen dating violence awareness this month focuses on girls and young women. If the boys and young men are mentioned, it will probably be on a page designed to help them change. As the mother of two teenaged young men (Marc and Eddie) and a survivor of domestic abuse, I feel compelled to share my perspective.
ADHD runs in families. It is a genetic disorder and a family affair. If you are an adult with ADHD, it is highly likely that another relative of yours will have ADHD. For many adults, this other someone is a grandchild.
There is a persistent myth that having bipolar disorder means you have a “broken identity,” or even, “split personality.” I would imagine the term “manic depression” (an older term for bipolar disorder) conjures up these images for some people. But I’m here to tell you, my identity is just fine as is my personality.
Because I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder at a very young age, a whopping twelve years old, I have a hard time remembering a life before the diagnosis—before I was told, “Natalie, you have Bipolar Disorder.” The only thing I understood was that I missed the Halloween dance at school; that I was sick and tired of being sick and tired.
But I remember being a little girl. A little girl who did not take medication. I remember long nights when I could not sleep; even longer days when I was crazed and manic. I recall my mother’s eyes, frightened, and my father's hands hugging me, telling me to calm down. That I would be okay. I can visualize in flashes my siblings; younger than I. Talking to them from the hospital.
But it ends there. Life after the diagnosis has captured the rest of my life. At the age of twenty-six, the word ‘after’ lingers.
In years past, I was a yes person. Whenever I was asked to take on a new project, help contribute to something, be part of an event, I would say yes without thinking. I had no idea there was any issue in this. This seemed in stark contrast to early addiction recovery. When in early sobriety, I was able to take care of me, and make things simple. I knew what I needed to do, whether it was to go to meetings, see my therapist, get enough sleep, not go out on weekends, surround myself by supportive people, etc.
On Friday, my psychiatrist told me that a fellow eating disorders patient recently died.
To say I was stunned would be an understatement.
In The Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis wrote
There are two equal and opposite errors into which our race can fall about the devils. One is to disbelieve in their existence. The other is to believe, and feel an excessive and unhealthy interest in them.
Sometimes religious people can fall into the latter category, seeing demons behind every coffee cup--especially when it comes to demons of mental illness in general and borderline personality disorder (BPD) in particular.
Let's pull out the good old thesaurus to attempt to define a feeling that is so prominent when you are diagnosed with mental illness:
> Singleness
>Alienation
>Isolation
Now, I usually pepper these definitions with a large amount of sarcasm because, usually, they are bloody ridiculous. Having said this, the above definitions make sense on my end. Mental Illness has alienated me, isolated me, and made me feel singular--not the same as others. That's what I want to explore in this blog: mental illness can make us feel terribly lonely and in order to recover we need to work to understand that while mental illness can make us feel isolated, we can move past it.
Mental Illness is a Lonely Disease
Last night I drank.
Alcohol.
OK. You probably don't need to alert the media. But I do need to alert you about the horrible effects alcohol can have on a person with bipolar disorder.
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...