MAY IS MENTAL HEALTH MONTH!

After stepping out of the closet some five years ago, most of you who know me, know that I have struggled with bipolar disorder most of my life. Yes, I have a mental illness. For years I hid my disorder from the world and somehow learned to compensate, and enjoyed a successful career for more than two decades. Untreated, bipolar disorder exacerbates over time, slowly decimating a person's ability to function on a sustained basis, and my well-loved career and many close relationships became casualties of my illness.

As my undiagnosed illness grew worse, and I became well-acquainted with the stigma associated with mental illness. It took more than five years, but I finally found the help I needed and a medical plan that allowed me to begin to successfully manage my illness. I have rejoined the world and now live a happy and productive life.

Despite efforts to educate and improve access to mental health resources, individuals with mental illness go without treatment and face discrimination that impedes their ability to live fully. Suicide claims the lives of one in eight.

The media continues to carelessly malign mental illnesses and it angers and saddens me. I have become a passionate advocate about mental health issues, hopeful that I might encourage someone seek help, or in some way, reduce the stigma faced by those living in the shadows of mental illness.

Former U.S. Surgeon General, David Satcher said it so poignantly:

"Stigmatization of people with mental disorders is manifested by bias, distrust, stereotyping, fear, embarrassment, anger, and avoidance...Stigma reduces access to resources and leads to low self-esteem, isolation, and hopelessness. It results in outright discrimination, and more tragically deprives people of their dignity, and interferes with their full participation in society."

May is Mental Health Month and I ask that you take a moment to access some of the information available on mental illness. Armed with knowledge and understanding, you might just be the one to save or positively change a life.

I am hopeful.


www.nami.org

www.livingbipolardisorder.blogspot.com/

www.usatoday.com/story/opinion/2013/02/...mental-health.../1890859/

I'm sick and tired of violence being blamed on individuals living with mental disorders

Yes, mental health is an important issue, but I am tired of seeing the blame for violence and criminal acts laid upon those tormented by some type of mental disorder. One in three Americans suffer from some type of mental illness and, for years live with pain and anguish caused by failure to be correctly diagnosed.  I strongly advocate for early and effective screening measures that will result in successful  treatment, or in some cases, incarceration if indicated. Individuals living with mental disorders most often suffer the stigma of their illness, are alienated from others, and often denied their dignity and full participation in society.

I have lived with a mental disorder which first manifested itself in my early teens. I was not correctly diagnosed until the illness exacerbated in my late forties. I somehow compensated for the pain I was living with, and had a successful career for more than two decades and contributed to my community through numerous volunteer activities. I never committed any criminal acts, and the only violence I engendered was directed at me.  Five years after my diagnosis, my doctors finally hit upon a successful medical management plan that has allowed me to once again give back something valuable.

Yes, there are psychopathic individuals who commit or are capable of unfathomable acts of horror, who will never be fit to live in the general population because of their insanity. There are also zealots whose violent acts result from hatred and bigotry, not mental illness. If we could only develop a comprehensive screening program, many of these might be stopped before they cross that threshold into violence.

Life can be a stage for abominable acts, but if you open your eyes and heart wide, you will find gracious moments of kindness, compassion, and beauty.

Education, action, and advocacy are imperative, and we all have a role to play.

Strong Woman

One of my dearest friends and I were discussing strong women on a sultry summer night. She was talking about how strong she was, and I echoed her when I matter-of-factly stated that I, also, was a strong woman. She laughed and then she snorted (Yes, snorted) and I was immediately offended to learn she did not consider me to be a woman of strength. I asked her, “Have you ever had someone you love die in your arms?” Very flippantly, she said, “Yeah,” but I knew that wasn’t true…then she added, “I just mean…well…you’re sick.” Those words delivered a crushing blow. Yes, I have a mental illness…I am a rapid-cycling bipolar 1 and I have had to bear the loss, stigma and isolation of my disorder along the way to learning how to manage this unwelcome disruption to my life.. My brother and sisters, who once looked at me with respect, now treat me as though I am a feeble child. That hurts. I was also surprised as I watched close friendships dissolve as my illness exacerbated. I felt betrayed and bereft, but as I became better acquainted with the aspects of my illness, I understood their departure from my life. Unmanaged, bipolar can be a very ugly illness, and, quite frankly, during the early days following my diagnosis, I wasn’t much fun to be around, and as bounced in and out of hospitals, and went through a plethora of drugs that either didn’t work, dumbed me down, or damn-near killed me, my social circle all but disappeared. My successful career was also a casualty of my illness, and to this day I mourn the loss of that. I became highly sensitized to the propagation of misinformation and stereotyping about this disorder. I am so tired and somewhat angry that the media frequently blames bipolar for violence and crime…The only violent behavior or crimes I ever committed during a bipolar episode were directed at myself, and I am fortunate that I survived. One in eight, with this disorder, is successful at ending their life…and many kind, worthwhile, and creative individuals are lost to us. For years I tried desperately to disguise my disfigurement until one day when I realized maybe, just maybe, I might be able to help or educate one person with this disorder, and mustering all the courage in my being, I finally stepped out of the closet and became quite vocal about individuals living with mental illness and its ensuing stigma. I became hopeful that I still had something to offer this world. I educated myself on every facet of the disorder and its treatment. I set up a web page on living with bipolar and began to discuss it openly when initiated by comments or other appropriate impetus. I have tried to live by example to show others I am not to be feared or avoided. Occasionally, I succeed, and that makes all my past suffering slip away a bit… Oh I still remember it, but it serves me well at times…keeps the fire in my belly burning.


As for my strength…as for being a strong woman… I survived a tortuous childhood of physical and emotional abuse at the hands of a man who wanted to decimate my spirit…. The love of my life died in my arms two weeks before Christmas, still I found a way to celebrate the life he lived and was strong enough to stand before 400 people at his memorial and give a very uplifting eulogy. His friends and family laughed, as together, we remembered the very full and good life he lived. I was devastated by the loss of the only real father I had ever known…He was a friend and a mentor and I still miss our long discussions and his wise advice. I still have some manic-depressive episodes, but I now know what I need to do to get through them. In a commentary for NPR, I coined a motto that I frequently use to end my articles: “I have a disorder…It does not define me.” I AM a strong and giving woman and, of course, I can be the funniest person I know. I will not let this illness beat me.

Supporting a Friend Living with Bipolar Illness

This is an unfinished article that definitely needs some additional work, but I wanted to get the guts of it posted. Stay tuned for a revised version.

Bipolar disorder (manic-depression illness) is still not understood very well in the mainstream, and when it is cited in the media, I often cringe, because the reference is usually negative. I get tired of hearing bipolar used as an excuse for criminal behavior. This just further reinforces the stigma and discrimination that many individuals with mental illnesses face. I cannot help it that the chemicals in my brain do not function as they should. I cannot help it that I have a genetically transmitted brain illness that interferes with the way I process and react to certain experiences, either propelling me into a manic rage, or sentencing me to a dark, debilitating bout with depression…and please understand: I cannot just “snap out of it.” A bipolar diagnosis is most often accompanied by a range of other problems including anger, anxiety, paranoia, and agoraphobia. I heard it said recently, that bipolar disorder had become a “fashionable illness.” This enraged me. My illness cost me my career, most of my friendships, my respectability, and more than once, my life was at stake. Doesn’t sound very fashionable to me.

The people in my life who know about and accept my illness are still often left at a loss for words and struggle to know how they might help me when I disappear into a manic or depressive episode. Over the years I have learned how to do a pretty good job of concealing the extremes of my illness. I hate knowing, that at times, I am a burden to those who love me, and consequently, I do my best to put on the smiling face and keep my voice light. Unfortunately, most often I withdraw from the world, trying desperately to hide my disfigurement. Many times, all the courage in the world will not help me reach out when I need it most.

So my family and friends ask: What can I do? How can I help? What should I know? I don’t have all the answers, but a few suggestions come to mind:
First and foremost, learn as much as you can about the illness. A wealth of information is as close as your keyboard.
www.nimh.nih.gov/health/.../bipolar-disorder/complete-index.shtml
www.helpguide.org/mental/bipolar_disorder_symptoms_treatment.htm
www.mayoclinic.com/health/bipolar-disorder/DS00356
www.nami.org/Template.cfm?Section=By_Illness...cfm...

Learning about the illness will help you begin to recognize signs and symptoms of an impending episode and help you know what you may be able to do to help your friend or loved one. Are they taking their medications? Are they getting adequate sleep? Several of my doctors have advised that they should be contacted immediately when the individual with bipolar stops sleeping. There are a number of medication adjustments that can be made to head off a manic episode.

If you have signed on to support a friend or loved one as they learn to live with bipolar illness, I commend you…It’s not an easy endeavor. Right up front you need to have an honest conversation with the individual to establish boundaries and gain understanding about triggers and signs related to their manic-depressive episodes. It is also important to have a solid support system in place that includes the family, friends, and doctors of the individual you are trying to support. When a crisis is looming, staying in touch with members of the support group is important. All involved should clarify and agree on what steps may need to be taken when the beast rears its ugly head. Has your friend unexpectedly disappeared for several days and can’t be reached by phone or email? It’s not an overreaction to get in your car and go to their house. Find them and try to assess what state they are in. Are they suicidal? Are they incoherent? Are they buried in their bed in a dark room? Are they agitated? Have they been drinking heavily, using drugs, or engaging in other addictions such as shopping or gambling? Sit down beside them and talk to them…Ask them questions about how they are doing and what they are feeling. Reassure them that you are there to help them get through this and that it is not their fault. Remind them that this illness does not define them. Sometimes if the individual is severely agitated or disconnected from reality, it may be necessary to take them to the hospital. Self-harm can be a very real threat when one is in the extremes of this illness.

As I said before, it can be an immensely difficult responsibility to provide support to the bipolar individual when they are in the grips of this illness. There is no shame in admitting you are not up to the task. Still, sometimes it is the simplest things that can make a difference for your suffering friend…holding their hand, giving them a hug, comforting them with calm words, giving them the encouragement to face another day…just being there at a time when they feel most alone.

I am immensely grateful to those who have helped me through the past eight years since my illness exacerbated. I owe my life and my well-being to their support:
My mother, Betty Van Covern, my husband Darryl, my remarkable friend, Sally Ann Frank Phillips, Doug W., Tom K., Mike T., my dear and loving friend, Kolina who shared with me a secret of life and reintroduced me to the world, my funny and compassionate friend, Keri, my doctor Lance Reger, and my therapist, Linda Smith. I also must mention the many Facebook friends who have showed me support during some dark days. Thank you all.

I'd love to hear other suggestions on how to help your friend or loved one living with bipolar. I learn more about living with this illness every day...AND, oh yes, this illness will not beat me.

More Important Information About Bipolar Disorder

http://www.mentalhealthamerica.net/files/Bipolar_1in4.pdf

Mania Comes to Call

The first phase of mania is intoxicating and euphoric. I was confident and super-humanly productive today…I felt joyous as an indefatigable energy pumped through my veins. At first I was infallible, but as the thoughts jetted faster and faster through my brain, I began to notice small errors and somewhat poor decisions. Now I am at mach one and am fighting the agitation that is interfering with my ability to focus. I know the course…agitation will exacerbate into rage and if I don’t find the brakes, the mania will threaten my well-being.

I know what to do. I should reach out for a calming hand, but I hide it from those who have signed on for this erratic journey. I should take the medications that will slow me (and dumb me) down. Sounds simple, but when you spend a large portion of your days incapacitated by black depression, it’s hard to let go of the rush. I lie to myself and say I’ll be OK, I’m just excited. Look at everything I accomplished today. Who can I call to talk to…or, more accurately, talk at, as the thoughts race through my brain? Let’s email. Let’s Facebook. Let’s write a significant essay. Let’s clean the bathroom and wash four loads of clothes. Let’s get dressed up and go out for a drink. STOP! “Danger, danger, Will Robinson.”

After years of suffering and repeated hospitalizations, I was finally correctly diagnosed as a rapid-cycling bipolar 1 at the age of 49. It has taken seven years for me to truly know the beast and to find a successful medical management plan. I lost a successful career, most of my friends, and almost lost my life on several occasions. I am my worst enemy and my best ally…It’s my choice to make.

So I’ve fought the urges and taken meds to stop the fast-moving train. I will get much-needed sleep tonight and wake up a little lower on the mood grid tomorrow. If not, I’ll call my doctor and alert those closest to me. I have a responsibility in managing this illness and the pleasure is not worth the pain…I will not let this illness beat me.

Disorders Do Not Define: Living With Bipolar Disorder By Sheree Ann Martines

I remember when mental illness was a social stigma… There was no applause… no public accolades for undergoing treatment. It was commitment, plain and simple. Mental illness was a character defect-- cause for social isolation, job discrimination, and shame. There were no posh clinics; only dark corridors locked away from the world. At 22, I was ushered through those padlocked gates. I met the faces of psychosis and schizophrenia; the lost souls haunted by delusions and dementia. Many, like me, were buried under despair so deep; we had pursued a death of our own design. You lowered your head as you walked those halls, fearful of seeing your pain in another’s eyes.

After six weeks of therapy, my cognitive exorcism was deemed successful. I rejoined the world, unaware that the true nature of my illness remained hidden, and a long hazardous highway stretched out ahead of me. Burning to prove myself, I learned the power of overcompensation, and rose like the young phoenix. For more than two decades I successfully climbed the ranks of non-profit management.

During those years, the Americans with Disabilities Act passed, opening doors for many individuals living with mental and physical challenges. Mental health hit the mainstream with vast economic impact. Corporate benefits expanded to include a mental health component…If you weren’t on Prozac, you knew someone who was… AND every new drug for anxiety or depression was backed by a seven-figure marketing campaign. NO potential employer could ever again ask about my mental health history.

Confident my demons were in the past, I hardly noticed as my equilibrium progressively intertwined with emotional extremes. I began fighting to function on a sustained basis, burning through sick leave like a spark on gasoline. Vicious rages contorted me like a willow in a Nor’easter. The tide surged in and the foundation of my life crumbled in its wake. Only then, did I learn my demon’s name…I was one of more than 5 million Americans living with bipolar disorder. Untreated, this genetic illness exacerbates, slowly decimating a person’s ability to live a “normal” life… tossing them between cycles of paralyzing depression and self-destructive mania. Fifty percent with the disorder attempt suicide at least once. Of those, one in eight succeeds in their efforts to end life. I am well-acquainted with that desire to die.

Ignorance about this illness persists, despite legislation and health benefits. Trust me: You cannot “just snap out of it.” You do not choose to lose your career, your friends or your life. You come to accept that your sanity, EVEN your survival, will forever depend on a daily regimen of ever-changing medications.

I have a role in controlling this illness.Every setback teaches me something…Behaviors, triggers, responses–how to reach out. I no longer fear the social stigma or silent prejudice harbored by some. I must forgive those who stepped away along the ugly course of my illness.It takes stamina and understanding to endure my erratic and irrational behavior... to seek me out when I withdraw from life…to listen as I speed through a digressive one-way discourse…to painfully watch my self-abuse. To be the last barricade between me and death...Those who love me enough to ride it out are my blessing and my strength. I HAVE a disorder…It does not define me. I remain the loving, intelligent, and compassionate woman I have always been. This illness will not beat me! I WILL find joy in the middle ground.