Maybe you know, or perhaps you don't- Mental illness is real. I know because I am one of its victims. This is my story.
I was diagnosed with severe Clinical Depression my junior year of high school, during my final exam for Pre-Calc nonetheless. My psychiatrist told me that I was going to be on medication for the rest of my life and that she didn't see any way around it. It felt like a death sentence- so final. Not that I was up for discussion about much anyway.
I remember vividly what it was like to be alive for the few weeks that followed because for the first time in my life I actually felt alive. Breathing and enjoying this thing called life, instead of merely existing. I felt like a whole new person, but better- I finally felt like myself, even a version of myself I was actually proud to be. I wanted to shout from the rooftops, "I'M FREE! I'M ALIVE! LIFE IS WONDERFUL!" And whisper to myself, "Why did I ever wait so long?"
Fast forward to college days. I left everything familiar and traveled to the arctic tundra of Utah in the depths of one of the most severe winter seasons in years, maybe decades. I sought out the help of a psychiatrist in the Wellness Center and in retrospect sort of wish I hadn't. I was asked what I wanted to try and what I think would work best, medication wise. Soon I had tried a myriad of things which mostly just ruined my life. I realized when I took an "upper" I went way too high, and was diagnosed with bipolar "rapid-cycle" tendencies. Eventually, I tried Lithium and things got really dark really fast and I became very low, and scared myself for the first time with real suicidal ideation. Picturing what it would be like, what it would feel like, wishing for it and hoping for it. Luckily, my illness treats me to a perfection/OCD that would never let me release control to such suicidal thoughts. I had hit rock bottom.
After that, the last hurrah came when I was taking an anti-depressant in the morning to wake me up and an antipsychotic/mood stabilizer to bring me back down so I could sleep. It was a literal rollercoaster day in and day out. The person I was dating at the time made me skyrocket so high, I felt like I could fly and I stopped taking my meds. At first I had planned it to be more of a detox, and planned to return when I "leveled out" or quite frankly, hit "rock bottom" once again. I waited for the scary monster to return, but it never did. I thought I had been cured and freed from the treacherous depths of the depression cave. Oh I was so wrong.
Five years later and still "med-free" I had a horrible realization that mental illness isn't curable. It might be dormant or even managed, but never cured. As I reflect honestly about the past five years, I see stretches of time that bruised my heart and crushed my soul, moments that lasted eons and numbness all encompassing in thought, action, and feeling. I think I coped by being in the butterfly and roses engagement stage of life; marriage is pretty happy. And I was able to release a lot of negative emotion creatively through lifebooks. But I don't think my chemistry ever changed. I'm not saying I was never happy in the past five years. Of course I was! I married the love of my life! But in the quiet alone moments, I was always second-guessing, fighting, and waiting for the weight to become too much. That moment settled in nice and easy Sunday night.
With my husband away on business, the loneliness nestled in faster and more noticeable than before. I was immediately defeated, darkened, sad, angry, so SO angry. I called my sweet mother and bawled.
"I'm just so ANGRY. I feel so broken and stupid. I know the problem, I see the problem, but I can't fix the problem. I just can't. Or is it won't? Is this me just torturing myself? Is that part of this stupid disease? Why is this happening now? Why FIVE YEARS later? Nothing makes any sense."
But that's the reason I am telling you my story today- mental illness doesn't make sense. It isn't fair or just. It isn't consistent or even predictable. It doesn't care if it's your wedding day or a funeral day. It doesn't care if you woke up to a beautiful sunshiny day- it will always tell you:
- You are nothing.
- You will fail.
- Just give up.
- You are broken.
- You will never, ever be free.
But I am here to tell you: stop the stigma. Accept the facts, and OWN them. Don't let your illness label you, don't be so brave you can't see the truth either. Don't hush it up. Don't brush it under the rug. Don't even try to crush it. Accept. Put it in its place.
My depression/bipolar/OCD/anxiety/RAGE/crazy sits in my back pocket. It's not my name tag, but it's not in pieces under my shoe. I can't beat it, because that would mean the fight is over. The fight will never be over until I am resurrected and this illness is lifted. BUT- I can sit on it and put that big, ugly, black monster in its place. Shut up you stupid depression. Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP! I will say when and how you play a role in my life. You have made me stronger, because to you I say:
- I can hug someone who is low and crawl into the cave and help because of you.
- I can sit by people hurting and not have to say one thing because of you.
- I can see your blackness hiding in others' souls because I've felt it in my own.
- I can keep moving forward and learn to ENJOY life again in spite of you.
- I can be free, small moments at first, and then forever, just you wait.
I can overcome Lisa, the crazy bipolar witch, and just be myself. No label. No stigma. Just me.
Stop the Stigma
By Lisa Jordan
Everyday we look at others
And judge what their lives are like-
Who they are, where they came from,
So many things to dislike.
Constantly deciding how much better
They are than all of us,
And always admitting what we lack,
about which we LOVE to fuss!
Why don't we just stop the stigma,
What's so bad about the disease?
Why are we killing ourselves,
When we're the ones in need?
Stop crushing your soul, open your eyes-
You aren't the only one dying.
Isn't that the point of life?
That we're all here, together, trying?
Trying to overcome the devil inside our hearts,
Tearing us from the inside out-
Learning how to love ourselves,
That's what life's about!
So please, shout it out, I'M DROWNING!
Open up and share what makes you weak.
It's also what makes you stronger-
Don't be afraid to speak!
It's okay.
You'll be okay.
Not right now, I know.
But soon, so soon.
I know depression can be LOUD.
It yells at you and pushes you around.
But, you aren't broken- you've been stuck in a cloud.
You've been so strong for so long.
It's almost better, take one step at a time,
Reach out and someone will come.
Help is on the way, hold on tight,
We will break the stigma, one soul by one.
I was diagnosed with severe Clinical Depression my junior year of high school, during my final exam for Pre-Calc nonetheless. My psychiatrist told me that I was going to be on medication for the rest of my life and that she didn't see any way around it. It felt like a death sentence- so final. Not that I was up for discussion about much anyway.
I remember vividly what it was like to be alive for the few weeks that followed because for the first time in my life I actually felt alive. Breathing and enjoying this thing called life, instead of merely existing. I felt like a whole new person, but better- I finally felt like myself, even a version of myself I was actually proud to be. I wanted to shout from the rooftops, "I'M FREE! I'M ALIVE! LIFE IS WONDERFUL!" And whisper to myself, "Why did I ever wait so long?"
Fast forward to college days. I left everything familiar and traveled to the arctic tundra of Utah in the depths of one of the most severe winter seasons in years, maybe decades. I sought out the help of a psychiatrist in the Wellness Center and in retrospect sort of wish I hadn't. I was asked what I wanted to try and what I think would work best, medication wise. Soon I had tried a myriad of things which mostly just ruined my life. I realized when I took an "upper" I went way too high, and was diagnosed with bipolar "rapid-cycle" tendencies. Eventually, I tried Lithium and things got really dark really fast and I became very low, and scared myself for the first time with real suicidal ideation. Picturing what it would be like, what it would feel like, wishing for it and hoping for it. Luckily, my illness treats me to a perfection/OCD that would never let me release control to such suicidal thoughts. I had hit rock bottom.
After that, the last hurrah came when I was taking an anti-depressant in the morning to wake me up and an antipsychotic/mood stabilizer to bring me back down so I could sleep. It was a literal rollercoaster day in and day out. The person I was dating at the time made me skyrocket so high, I felt like I could fly and I stopped taking my meds. At first I had planned it to be more of a detox, and planned to return when I "leveled out" or quite frankly, hit "rock bottom" once again. I waited for the scary monster to return, but it never did. I thought I had been cured and freed from the treacherous depths of the depression cave. Oh I was so wrong.
Five years later and still "med-free" I had a horrible realization that mental illness isn't curable. It might be dormant or even managed, but never cured. As I reflect honestly about the past five years, I see stretches of time that bruised my heart and crushed my soul, moments that lasted eons and numbness all encompassing in thought, action, and feeling. I think I coped by being in the butterfly and roses engagement stage of life; marriage is pretty happy. And I was able to release a lot of negative emotion creatively through lifebooks. But I don't think my chemistry ever changed. I'm not saying I was never happy in the past five years. Of course I was! I married the love of my life! But in the quiet alone moments, I was always second-guessing, fighting, and waiting for the weight to become too much. That moment settled in nice and easy Sunday night.
With my husband away on business, the loneliness nestled in faster and more noticeable than before. I was immediately defeated, darkened, sad, angry, so SO angry. I called my sweet mother and bawled.
"I'm just so ANGRY. I feel so broken and stupid. I know the problem, I see the problem, but I can't fix the problem. I just can't. Or is it won't? Is this me just torturing myself? Is that part of this stupid disease? Why is this happening now? Why FIVE YEARS later? Nothing makes any sense."
But that's the reason I am telling you my story today- mental illness doesn't make sense. It isn't fair or just. It isn't consistent or even predictable. It doesn't care if it's your wedding day or a funeral day. It doesn't care if you woke up to a beautiful sunshiny day- it will always tell you:
- You are nothing.
- You will fail.
- Just give up.
- You are broken.
- You will never, ever be free.
But I am here to tell you: stop the stigma. Accept the facts, and OWN them. Don't let your illness label you, don't be so brave you can't see the truth either. Don't hush it up. Don't brush it under the rug. Don't even try to crush it. Accept. Put it in its place.
My depression/bipolar/OCD/anxiety/RAGE/crazy sits in my back pocket. It's not my name tag, but it's not in pieces under my shoe. I can't beat it, because that would mean the fight is over. The fight will never be over until I am resurrected and this illness is lifted. BUT- I can sit on it and put that big, ugly, black monster in its place. Shut up you stupid depression. Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP! I will say when and how you play a role in my life. You have made me stronger, because to you I say:
- I can hug someone who is low and crawl into the cave and help because of you.
- I can sit by people hurting and not have to say one thing because of you.
- I can see your blackness hiding in others' souls because I've felt it in my own.
- I can keep moving forward and learn to ENJOY life again in spite of you.
- I can be free, small moments at first, and then forever, just you wait.
I can overcome Lisa, the crazy bipolar witch, and just be myself. No label. No stigma. Just me.
Stop the Stigma
By Lisa Jordan
Everyday we look at others
And judge what their lives are like-
Who they are, where they came from,
So many things to dislike.
Constantly deciding how much better
They are than all of us,
And always admitting what we lack,
about which we LOVE to fuss!
Why don't we just stop the stigma,
What's so bad about the disease?
Why are we killing ourselves,
When we're the ones in need?
Stop crushing your soul, open your eyes-
You aren't the only one dying.
Isn't that the point of life?
That we're all here, together, trying?
Trying to overcome the devil inside our hearts,
Tearing us from the inside out-
Learning how to love ourselves,
That's what life's about!
So please, shout it out, I'M DROWNING!
Open up and share what makes you weak.
It's also what makes you stronger-
Don't be afraid to speak!
It's okay.
You'll be okay.
Not right now, I know.
But soon, so soon.
I know depression can be LOUD.
It yells at you and pushes you around.
But, you aren't broken- you've been stuck in a cloud.
You've been so strong for so long.
It's almost better, take one step at a time,
Reach out and someone will come.
Help is on the way, hold on tight,
We will break the stigma, one soul by one.
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