Blogs
I’ve been writing Funny In The Head for some time now, and, as you might imagine, knowing you, as I don’t, writing a humor column for a mental health website is not the easiest hoe to row, if you follow my wake, and if you do, bravo!
Week after week I am deluged with emails from irate readers who prattle on interminably with protestations of indignation, hurt feelings, and shock. Surprisingly, the vast majority of them are from schizophrenics. Here is a recent example.
I wasn't coping with my thoughts of giving up on school very well the year before I was due to graduate. I was ready to quit school. I would sit in my therapist's office and cry at the thought of going back to campus that following Monday, and it negatively affected my mental health. I would freak out and cry at the drop of a hat, I would freeze up in class and become so jittery that I could barely sit in class.
Any sexual assault event leads naturally to a question: how can one get back one's sense of personal safety, after such a catastrophe? Michele’s July 24 blog post - PTSD and Self-Efficacy: Being Able to Protect Yourself - launches into this question, and it got a distinct reaction from me. I urgently wanted to add something to what she had to say - a male perspective on the problem of personal safety and how to achieve it.
What a happy sounding title for this blog post - not! It's important, though, to know that Adult ADHD does not live in a vacuum all the time and that other goodies (aka co-morbid disorders) can hop on the band wagon of your mental health. For me, it's co-morbid depression.
There are many depression-management techniques available; antidepressant medication, cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT), exercise and a proper diet, relaxation and general wellness treatments (eg. massage therapy, hypnosis, meditation, aromatherapy, etc.), and so on. Among these therapy techniques is group therapy. But... group therapy for depression? Is it a help or a hindrance?
If there is one thing I can count on in my life it's October. Yes, it's obvious that October arrives each year, but when you live with a mental illness, months can represent moods. And that can be scary. That said, I want to focus this post on a conversation I had with a relative who lives with depression in the summer, and thrives in the winter.
Have you thought about the words use that keep mental health stigma alive and well? I recently got into a rather heated debate with a mental health writer about her choice of words. Specifically, I felt uneasy by her use of the phrase "these people." I'm not sure why this phrase triggered feelings of separateness in me; in the scheme of things, it is not the most offense phrase in the English lexicon.
Then it clicked. Historically, words have been used to separate and disfranchise people with mental illnesses. Words have power, and the use of words carelessly promotes stigma and the viewpoint that "these people" are scary, dangerous, and to be avoided.
What is it that causes Schizophrenia? What is it that makes one see, hear and think the inconceivable? Freud believed that Schizophrenia was caused by repressed homosexuality, a theory with no solid evidence. Nevertheless the idea is still perpetuated amongst certain circles of psychoanalysts who are misguided by an outdated theory. Why is this?
Parenting a child with mental illness brings about some anxiety. The upcoming school year helps me reflect on Bob. Much more so when the retailers are preparing for school shopping time. I'm an anxious person so I imagine Bob has a hard time dealing with me. I worry about making sure that he has everything he needs for school - supplies, review of the rules and some patience. Reflecting on your special needs child before school starts can help ease your worries.
No one likes a disruption of his or her daily routine. But is it worth getting upset about? Becky Oberg, author of the More Than Borderline blog, discusses how to survive and thrive despite chaos.
I also have DID. And I know that it is not safe for people or animals to live with me. This is just the facts and it’s devastating. I know that to be ethical and non-harming I have to live alone. To see me, I look kind and sweet. And parts of me are. But not all the parts. I’ve been officially diagnosed and in therapy over two years, and even if we all heal, I don’t think it’s worth the risk that I could hurt or kill somebody. Some risks can be taken, but I don’t think I could say, ‘hey- let’s move in together. By the way I had violent tendencies but I think I have it taken care of. You ok with that?’