“She’s taking her psycho meds,” are words that will forever be engrained in my mind. At nine-years-old, my mental health was already something I was learning to become ashamed of. In my first blog post, I explained briefly that in elementary school, I had to go to the office daily to take my ADHD medication at noon. I remember it was in the middle of winter because when I was walking back down the hallway, they were bundling up with their snow pants and snow boots. I remember the only person who knew that I went to a psychiatrist was my childhood best friend. When the kids asked where I’d went, she replied, “She’s taking her psycho meds.”
Mental health. Something I’ve struggled with for as long as I can remember, as well as many others. It’s so stigmatized and I really don’t see why. Mental health’s stigma has definitely been the most difficult part of my journey. Every illness is difficult, but being told to “just think differently,” isn’t something that makes recovery easier. Thinking differently can help to a certain extent, but when there’s chemical imbalance that has to be fixed with something more than just positive affirmations and thoughts. Whether that be medication, oils, whatever you believe in, it’s not just your thoughts which is the biggest misconception with mental health and what makes ending the stigma so much harder.
Throughout elementary, middle school, and high school, I’ve had my fair share of kids using my mental illness against me. In my first post, I mentioned being hospitalized four times. Hospitalization sucks. I remember each time having to come up with different stories and lies so nobody found out where I actually was at. I was ashamed of myself because of the years of having to conceal the fact that my brain didn’t allow me to happy. I was ashamed because society made me feel ashamed. Society told me I had to be ashamed because this isn’t something we talk about. We don’t talk about my depression at lunch like we talk about her diabetes because that’s a “real” illness. Both are real. Both suck, the sooner we realize this, the sooner people will get the help they need and the sooner this world can stop hiding in the shadows of mental illness.
As stated before, being hospitalized to me, was humiliating. Looking back now, there was nothing wrong with me needing help. The elaborate stories I would create with a therapist before leaving the hospital had to become real for me and I had to play it off as that exact scenario. Once leaving a psychiatric hospital, you need love and support. You are recovering from emotional trauma. One incident I’ll never forget was in a classroom. I had overdosed a week prior and it was probably my third day back to school. A few close friends knew, but hardly anyone. I had to leave school early to go to the doctor to get my blood drawn to see if my liver was still functioning. A classmate innocently asked where I was going and I replied to the doctor because I’d used the dentist excuse already that week for therapy. Two peers piped in by saying, ”She’s going for the final pregnancy test,” and “She’s getting tested for STDs.” The teacher didn’t say anything to defend me even though the pregnancy accusations had gone on the entire class. The pregnancy accusations had gone on the entire week for a matter of fact. I wanted to yell in my defense, “No, I’m going to the doctor because I tried to kill myself last week because of assholes like you.” I remember just leaving and going to my car. Warm tears flowed down my cheeks thinking about how defeated I felt. I felt like everyone was against me and I felt once again so alone and in a deep and dark place like I had when I took the pills.
Another incident that still haunts me is after I left class one day, bawling because of something that had happened the night before. I left the class without anyone noticing, but met a classmate in the hallway who must’ve told the rest of my class that I was in the midst of a mental breakdown. I was so humiliated that I ate lunch in the guidance counselor‘s office. Later that night, several girls told me what a girl had been saying about me at lunch that day. One girl who struggles with mental health issues herself, left the table and went to the bathroom and cried because these girl’s remarks made her feel humiliated and uncomfortable. If I would’ve said something to the girl that made those comments it would be, do you think I enjoy the thoughts that haunt me everyday? The thoughts that tell me I’ll never been good enough. The thoughts that tell me nobody wants me. The fact that I’m 17-years-old and bawling because they become so overwhelming at some points is something I definitely want...not.
In middle school, I had a very close coach who I told everything to. They knew about my mental health, they knew that I felt pressured 24/7 by sports, they knew about my relationship with my peers, they knew everything and I trusted them. During a sport season, there’d been an altercation between a group of girls and a different coach pulled me a side and asked me ”Why the (insert a very inappropriate word) I act like this.” They then began saying things about my mental health that they had been told by the trusted coach. They told me there’s nothing actually wrong with me and that I just need to grow the (insert another inappropriate word) up. The next day, someone in their family had to apologize for them. I apologized to them for the fight between the other girls, but I never got an apology from then. I lost all respect for both the coach who said those things and the coach I trusted with private information and to this day. Somedays the selfish part in me wishes people like that could deal with the thoughts for one day and then realize what they were saying and doing was wrong. But, even on my worst days one of my three wishes from a genie still wouldn’t be to put mental illness on another person.
School isn’t the only place I’ve experienced the stigma. With my most recent attempt, a family member accused my parents‘ parenting to be the reason why I tried to kill myself. I just laugh at that statement. My parents give my sisters and I the world. In no way shape or form would I ever blame them or any person for that matter to be the reason I attempted suicide. I attempted suicide because of situations that I found no way out of. My parents are amazing and to put the blame on them is in no way shape or form fair. I also remember a family member telling my father that I wouldn’t act like this if he spanked me. Spanking me for having an anxiety attack that was mistaken for a tantrum? It was something I couldn’t control in that moment was the panic attack because I hadn’t learned coping skills yet. It’s like telling the parent of a child with epilepsy to spank their child when they have a seizure.
The biggest sigh of relief in my entire life and perhaps the best moment of my life was in the hospital room after my last overdose. You may be thinking, woah, that’s pretty crazy. Well, after my overdose, I remembered nothing. I remember a few bits and pieces such as talking to an EMT, getting my arm stabbed with a needle and then screaming at the nurse, and using the bathroom in the ER. Tuesday was the first day I was conscious and able to have a conversation. I woke up so incredibly confused, I had a tube in my throat, an IV in my hand...where was I? A nurse explained I was in Kearney in the hospital. My mom came over to me and knelt down next to me and explain everything, how I got there, how long I‘d been out of it, where everyone was. Her phone then began going off and I asked her who it was, it was a family friend who seldom texted her. I asked her what it was about and she replied they’re checking in on you. I became very angry asking why she told them and she said that everyone knew now, but it’s ok because I didn’t have to hide anymore. Tears are falling from my eyes right now because that was the most relieving feeling I’ve ever felt and I cried that day as well. I didn’t have to pretend anymore. It felt like a thousand pounds had just been taken off my shoulders. I felt like I’d been freed from the shackles that held me down, I was finally free.
If you know me personally, you’d know I’m a sucker for any Disney movie, but especially Frozen. Of course I’m going to make a ’Let it Go‘ reference. In the song, Elsa sings, “The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside Couldn't keep it in, heaven knows I've tried Don't let them in, don't let them see Be the good girl you always have to be Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know Well, now they know” Then comes the infamous, LET IT GO. I feel like those lyrics described my life before becoming open about my mental health. The wind was my depression and anxiety swirling around on the inside and it was like a storm and I tried to keep it in. I couldn’t let anyone in because of the fears I had of being looked down upon. I had to be the “good girl” everyone always saw me as. I had to conceal those feelings to the point I couldn’t feel anything and now you all know and here I am letting it go and it feels amazing. Coming out to social media, the public, friends, everyone, has been the best decision of my life. I no longer have to feel like I’m lesser of a human because of a chemical imbalance. I’m free and it feels amazing.
So, you may be asking yourself, what can I do to help stop this stigma? For beginners, stop using the ”trigger words.” Not only are these trigger words for me, but many others. These include the infamous “psychopath,” “maniac,” “psychotic,” I hope you get the point. When you use the word, “psychotic” you are referring to a mental illness referred to as psychosis. This isn’t a word to use on somebody who is participating in crazy behaviors. Next, treat mental illness like any other illness. Your friend’s depression is just as important as your other friend’s Type 1 Diabetes. You can ask them both how they are doing. Contrary to popular belief, asking someone if they’re suicidal or how their mental health is doesn’t make them anymore suicidal or anymore depressed! Lastly, be an advocate for mental health. If you hear someone bashing mental illness, stand your ground. Tell them how you feel. You could save someone’s life. End the stigma!!!!
The comment about my “psycho pills” no longer phases me. I know that one day my children will be more educated than that. I know my children won’t stereotype a child with ADHD and will know that it’s no different than their friend with scoliosis, they were born unique and different and we will love and accept them no matter what. They will know that their mom takes medications because her brain doesn’t function as it should, but that makes me special and different, but I’m ok with that. I’m no longer embarrassed to say that I have a chemical imbalance. I take an antidepressant daily. If you don’t like it, I pray that one day you will come to the realization that I’m no different than you and every other human on this planet. I know God put me on this big green Earth for a reason, just like He put you here. Maybe that reason was for someone to read this post and realize they have nothing to be ashamed of. You are here for a reason. You are loved. You are worthy. You have nothing to be ashamed of.