Category Archives: Education

Blog For Mental Health 2013 Is Here!

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Once upon a time, there was a lovely young lady named Lulu. She was bright and vivid and bigger than life (she still is, don’t worry, I just talked with her the other day), and it was an especial desire of hers to advocate for understanding, strength, support, and education about mental health.  She had suffered a long time with her own mental illness, and she never wanted anyone to feel alone, as she had.

If you’ve been reading this blog for very long, my loves, you might know her as the woman with whom I co-founded the community mental health site, A Canvas Of The Minds.

(Side note:  Please, if you haven’t, go check Canvas out.  It isn’t just a site about being mentally ill, it’s about dealing with so many aspects of life, and chances are if you can’t relate to any of our authors’ pieces personally, we still touch upon topics and situations that you may have to deal with through a friend or a loved one.  If nothing else, it will give you a glimpse into life with mental illness, and hopefully foster dialogue and understanding.) 

So.  Last year, Lulu did something awesome, something so much more, which caught on like wildfire.  She started Blog for Mental Health 2012.  It was a simple idea that united a community.  If you have ever seen this badge on a site (and chances, are, you have):

well, that all started with her (and yes, I know it wasn’t here, but let’s not psychoanalyze me right now).

Now, to be absolutely clear, this isn’t an award.  I want to make that very plain, because I know that many bloggers feel that the blogging awards passed along, however well-intentioned, sometimes have a bit of a “chain mail” feel to them.  I would love to see even “award-free” bloggers taking up this gauntlet, because it is something else entirely.  It’s a simple, yet very powerful way for a community of mental health bloggers to show that they are proud of their lives, that they are writing for themselves as well as for those who have not yet found their voices, that they are ensuring no one ever has to feel alone when dealing with mental illness.

This year’s badge is especially cool, because Lulu put together a number of different choices.  She posted them on her blog, Sunny With a Chance Of Armageddon, as well as on A Canvas Of The Minds.  The community then got to vote on which image they wanted for 2013.  After a mostly scientific tally (read: I made tally marks in a notebook scientifically), I can reveal to you the Blog For Mental Health 2013 official badge:

Designed by Lulu, selected by the community!

Designed by Lulu, selected by the community!

Here is how this thing works:

1.) Take the pledge by copying and pasting the following into a post featuring “Blog for Mental Health 2013″.

I pledge my commitment to the Blog For Mental Health 2013 Project.  I will blog about mental health topics not only for myself, but for others.  By displaying this badge, I show my pride, dedication, and acceptance for mental health.  I use this to promote mental health education in the struggle to erase stigma.

2.) Link back to the person who pledged you.

Blog For Mental Health 2013 « A Canvas Of The Minds

3.) Write a short biography of your mental health, and what this means to you.

So, I carry diagnoses of Bipolar Disorder I, and also nearly every anxiety disorder in the book (the book being the DSM, the one used for making these diagnoses) — Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Panic Disorder, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.  Possibly also Impulse Control Disorder.

I kept a lid on things until I was about 25, when a whole series of events led to a complete and total nervous breakdown.  The short version is something along the lines of six years of medications (soooo many medications, like upwards of 70), talk and structured therapies, eventually electroconvulsive therapy — which was the most horrible experience of my life, and left scars I will carry forever.

A lot of you who are reading this probably don’t know all about that.  That’s because something happened at the beginning of March last year, I can’t really explain it, but I became well again.  I became the girl I was at 21, when I could do it all beautifully and flawlessly and joyfully.  I have spent this time healing, and I know that I won’t ever be exactly that same girl; I’m a whole lot wiser, and sometimes much sadder.  I have to take my medications regularly, or things can get pretty rough for me.

But I am happy, oh so happy.  And were you to ask me if I would go through all of that again, six years of Hell (capital H) to get where I am now — 32 years old, living on disability, in my parents’ home — my answer would be a resounding, ”Yes!”, without qualification.  I am more blessed than I ever imagined I could be.  I love and I am loved, and I discovered the wonderful, loving, supportive community of all of you because of my journey.

4.) Pledge five others, and be sure to let them know!

I am pledging five of my fellow bloggers who have stood with me, and have proven their mettle in my eyes as mental health bloggers.

I’m going to put a little twist on this one.

First, as the entirety of Team Canvas was pledged in the original post, I’ll start out with five other bloggers whom I know and respect and who have made lasting contributions to the online mental health community:

Cate, of  Infinite Sadness… or hope?

Mel, of Toby and I together and/or scienerf (I wasn’t sure which to pledge)

Halfway Between The Gutter And The Stars

Kevin, of Voices of Glass

Pride in Madness

But I also would like to include five more bloggers, just a sampling of the newer voices I am reading, who may not yet know about this.  So I pledge:

My Mind Matters

2bbritt

How To Fly Over The Cuckoos Nest

Bipolar 2 Dad

AnxiousElephant

If you happen upon this without being pledged, I still pledge you.  Feel free to take the pledge!  Promote awareness!

5.) And, as something novel for 2013, Lulu and I ask one more thing of you.

As you may have noticed, Canvas does not keep an official blogroll, outside of links to our authors’ personal blogs.  For something new and special to introduce Blog For Mental Health 2013, and really build a sense of community — and show everyone how many of us there are, and how strong we are, coming together — we are launching a Blog For Mental Health 2013 Official Blogroll!  So, in addition to linking back to the person who pledged you, please include the link to the original post in your piece.  As this gets passed along, link back or click here and leave a comment containing the link to your pledge, and we will put you on our Blog For Mental Health 2013 Official Blogroll page!  Show the world our strength, show them our solidarity, show them what we are made of.  Take the Blog for Mental Health pledge and proudly display the badge on your blog!

(And yes, I do know that I stuck about 752 links in here.  I figure the more this gets passed around, the more some will get lost, and I want people to be able to find their way back to the original post and page!)

© Ruby Tuesday and I Was Just Thinking. . . 2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ruby Tuesday and I Was Just Thinking. . . with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. This work is protected under a Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

World AIDS Day

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ribbon1 December 2012 is designated World AIDS Day by the World Health Organization (WHO). As it happens (and lucky for me), I had a post already in my archives that I knew would be fitting. This quote from the WHO’s site (link above) makes it even more perfect to me: “Between 2011-2015, World AIDS Days will have the theme of “Getting to zero: zero new HIV infections. Zero discrimination. Zero AIDS related deaths”. (Bolding is my own.)

My post from April of 2011 follows. I am adding a picture of myself, as my way of saying I am not ashamed to be open and honest and discuss what I dealt with, and neither should you be.

Originally titled “Wait, What?”

550400_3969739524547_1312244264_3613450_1211504945_nHere’s one for you:  I did everything the right, smart, best way that I could in my life, and shortly thereafter found out there was a chance I may have been exposed to HIV.

I don’t actually know that I was, as there was no way to confirm or rule out the possibility explicitly.  Proactive as I am, I went in and got tested.  Negative.  I could let out a little breath, but not a full one, because it can take up to six months for HIV antibodies to be detectable in the blood.

Last week I went in for my six month follow-up test.  My doctor had switched practices, and the Medical Assistant gave me a form to sign before drawing my blood.  I don’t remember everything it said; I do remember it said that if I tested positive, I would be reported to my health department, assigned a number, and essentially – for lack of a better word – tracked.

Now, with all of my cynicism and mistrust of governmental agencies, this still shocked me.  I asked the MA about it.  She replied that it was a communicable disease and had to be reported.  I told her that so was the flu.

I signed it.  I signed that damned piece of paper.  I think I am every bit as angry at myself for not standing up and fighting for my right to privacy as I am that I have to stand up and fight for my right to privacy on this issue.

What right has the government to know whether I have HIV or AIDS or anything else?  They aren’t going to release that information to my potential sexual partners.  And if you’re going to try to get that information from the health department about someone you’re considering sleeping with, isn’t it glaringly obvious that you don’t trust them and maybe you shouldn’t be putting your life on the line like that?

HIV is so stigmatized.  Many people are reluctant to get tested in the first place, because they feel like it says something negative about them.  Something along the lines that they are promiscuous or stupid or trash.  In reality what it says is the polar opposite; they are not stupid, they are being smart and proactive and responsible with their own health, along with the health of those they encounter.

So let’s rub salt in the wound of a potentially positive HIV screen by saying, “Oh, by the way, your health information is no longer yours.  It belongs to the government now and they can do what they like with it.”

My test came back negative, thank God.

Good news, though.  There are designated anonymous testing facilities that don’t report your STD status (except to you).  I’ve found one very near to me, and while I hope I will never be in this kind of situation again, I know now that I won’t be going to my doctor’s office if I am.

Moral of the story:  Get tested.  Just consider in advance whether you are willing to sign away your right to privacy on one of the most intimate matters in your life, and if you aren’t, find an anonymous testing facility in your area.

To locate your nearest anonymous test site, call the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention at 1-800-CDC-INFO (800-232-4636), or contact your local health department.

© Ruby Tuesday and I Was Just Thinking. . . 2011-2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ruby Tuesday and I Was Just Thinking. . . with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. This work is protected under a Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Why It Matters

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Today, one of my favorite baristas at the Starbucks near my house asked me what I do for work.  Which is not such an unusual question for one person to ask another, but it’s one that has been trending in my life lately.  And I finally realized I want to share my answer with everyone.  There is a reason for me wanting to share it today, but I’ll get to that.

Some of you know, maybe some of you who will read this don’t.  Right now, I don’t do any kind of “work”, not in the conventional go to a job and get paid for it kind of way.  I am on government disability (SSI) for bipolar disorder.  I live with my parents, because I can’t afford to live on my own.  And for a period of long years, not so far back, I needed to live with my parents, because I was so profoundly ill.

Five months ago, I finally reached a state where I can say that I am well.  Not just “okay”, or “doing better”, I have come to an amazing place as far as my mental health is concerned.  I am somewhere I had stopped dreaming I could ever possibly reach.  The last six years of my life have been a hell of medication roulette, therapy, and even the evil electroconvulsive therapy.

Before that there was a period of steep decline, I can’t tell you how long it took before I finally came to a place where I said, “I need help.”  But it didn’t happen in the blink of an eye.

I can’t distill for you what life was like for the six years plus I have just lived through.  My brain has a difficult time conceptualizing it, and I lived it, so I know I couldn’t possibly explain.  Some of you saw me through some of it, and some of you I talked to, or you heard about my life from friends and family.  But the only two people outside of myself who come close to having a grasp on what things were like for me are my mom and dad, because they lived in the same house with me.

Anyway, I don’t want to get into all of that now.  The point is that now that I am doing well, I have gotten inquiries on what I am going to do next, am I going back to school, am I looking for a job, etc. (and not just from baristas).  And let me assure anyone who may have asked that I take no exception to questions like that.  I don’t think you’re pushing and you don’t hurt my feelings.  In fact, I can’t even remember who has asked me these questions, that’s how much they don’t matter.

As far as formal, common society’s definition of “working”, I can tell you that it’s probably going to be a little while before I do that (unless any of my friends Where I Live needs a nanny, that I could totally be on board with).  Yes, I am doing very well now.  But after six years, I’m not exactly going to push myself into something that will be a huge stressor, even a positive one, after just five months.  The way I look at it, I’m convalescing, just as I would if my illness were 100% physical.  I need to build my strength back up and get to fully understand my limitations.

My psychiatrist and I talked about this last week, and one of the things we discussed was volunteer work.  And I expressed to him that I’m not even quite there yet, because you have to be available specific hours, etc.

But that brought us around to what I wanted to write about, and what the title is referring to (yes, all of that was just a preamble).

A year ago today, a very good friend and fellow blogger and I co-founded a site, A Canvas Of The Minds.  The easiest way to explain it to people is as a “community mental health blog.”  Basically, we have gathered together a group of individuals who blog about mental health, and they all contribute pieces to the site.

Some of you have heard me talk about Canvas until you’re sick to death of the topic.  That is, if anyone whom I know outside of blogging reads this, which is what I’m hoping will happen.  And unless you are involved in the blogging community (and especially the mental health sector), you cannot possibly know the degree of support and the many true friendships that are a product of it.  It isn’t “real” or “important” to a lot of people, which I completely get.

Only, here’s the thing.  I pour my heart and soul into Canvas.  No, I can’t “work” right now.  And I’m not ashamed of that fact.  But Canvas allows me so many things that are denied to people who have basically had to retreat from society for one reason or another.  It gives me a way to spend my hours.  It is a creative outlet.  I have formed friendships because of it, both with co-authors and readers (with people all around the world, no less).  Real friendships.  Just because the bulk of our interaction is online, doesn’t take away from the truth of it.

But there’s more.  I am the admin of the site, so that means I am responsible for implementing all the behind-the-scenes stuff.  Ideas come from everyone, but I have to actually do anything major with the site.  Which gives me a sense of responsibility to everyone involved.  It gives me a reason to focus, to meet deadlines, and to think beyond myself.  And it also gives me a sense of pride and worth when someone compliments something I have written or done.

It can also be frustrating to no end.  I started out with practically zero technical know-how.  And even though we have a facebook page and even, recently, a Twitter account, I still am facing a steep learning curve.

But when I think about all we have accomplished in the space of a year, and the important part I played in that, my heart swells.  Because I am doing something that I not only love, but that is benefiting countless people.

So if I seem to go on, or am posting to facebook things from the Canvas page, or telling you something that happened with it when we talk, or asking for you to show your support in some way, stop for a minute and think.  Do you keep what you do all day to yourself?  Would you pass up an opportunity to promote a cause you are passionate about, one that affects you at the most personal level, because you think that it might bore or bother people?  Would you keep to yourself a project you are working on that has been your lifeline, or not talk about all of those who help to make it a reality?

That is why it matters.

© Ruby Tuesday and I Was Just Thinking. . . 2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ruby Tuesday and I Was Just Thinking. . . with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. This work is protected under a Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

The Illusion And The Reality

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I really started this post out with the intention of addressing a handful of common misconceptions consumers have about psychiatric treatments.  There is a great deal of information “out there” that frustrates the hell out of me when I see and hear and read what people have been told about various psychoactive medications.  But ultimately, this post came down to just one medication, and just one idea, because it’s one that seemingly almost everyone believes, and it can really hinder your ability to become well if you suffer from bipolar disorder.

Now, I don’t really expect you to listen to me.  I wouldn’t have listened to me when I began treatment either.  But that was six years, over 50 medications, 16 shocks to my brain, and countless hours and forms of therapy ago.  And it’s time for me to stop feeling hurt and frustrated that everyone has to learn things their own way, and that all of this knowledge, all of the research and reading and questioning and talking to specialists I have done over the years; all of the critical thinking and arguing until I found solutions that gelled both with experiences and the literature seems only to be beneficial to one person: myself.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m delighted that I have reaped the rewards.  I am well.  For the first time in decades I can say, I can shout, without fear of contradiction or a nagging thought that it will all fall apart on me that I am healthy, and I am happy, and that all of the things I went through were worth it to get me here.

My frustration comes out because I want to fix everyone else, too.  And when I finally got tired of offering knowledge that was for all useful purposes disregarded (of course not in a hurtful or even deliberate way), I stopped offering any input at all.  Which is ridiculous, but it was a way I had found to cope.  A coward’s way.

As it turns out, I am not cut out to be a coward.  Nor to shut my mouth even if no one will listen.  It doesn’t suit.

How many of you are taking Lamictal (lamotrigine)?  I know a lot of you are, and a lot of you are taking it as a mood stabilizer.  I’m going to tell you something about it, something that absolutely baffles me more people don’t know, and that it would seem more doctors don’t know.  (Yes, I do know more that your psychiatrist.  About a great many things.  There, I’ve said it.)

This I have to address, because I recently witnessed two very painful situations with good friends, up close, that were directly a result of improper prescribing of, and reliance on, Lamictal.  One friend I know from blogging, and one I know “in real life”, but they both fell into the same trap.  And so much damage was done.  And I see so much more in my reading of blogs, maybe not always active damage like in these cases, but a passive damage (if I can even use that term, I’m all keyed up and can’t think of a better one).

Now let me set the record straight right now.  I am not Lamictal-bashing.  I took it for years, and I think that it is a wonderful medication, an absolute godsend, when prescribed correctly.

But do you know what Lamictal is not?  Lamictal is not a mood stabilizer.  Let the stoning begin.

Lamictal has had a very positive history for treating bipolar depression.  And, yes, it was classed (on some not-so-strong evidence) as a mood stabilizer in 2003 (I’m going by the FDA, as I live in the U.S.).  But my former psychiatrist expressed about as early as a month on in my treatment, I think in about 2006, that Lamictal has no efficacy at preventing mania or hypomania.  Considering that the Food and Drug Administration only approved it as a mood stabilizer some three years before my doctor was in on the joke – and he wasn’t the only one – I’m wondering why it is still so widely prescribed as one, now, in the year 2012.

And no, I am not taking one doctor’s word on this.  If you’ve only just found me, it’s okay, I forgive you, but for those of you who have known me for any length of time?  Shame on you for even thinking I would do that!  I literally have texts piled around me on the bed right now – texts, not layman’s guides to bipolar, which can, of course, be very, very valuable; I read enough of them, certainly – but books I had to hunt down and shell out for because they contain the source material, the studies themselves, and they all say the same thing in different words.  I’ll give it to you from my favorite, what I call “The Bipolar Bible”, Manic-Depressive Illness:  Bipolar Disorders and Recurrent Depression (Second Edition) by Frederick K. Goodwin and Kay Redfield Jamison.  It’s so pretty.

On the subject of lamotrigine, a tidy little summation of a great deal of information:

“Case reports and open studies have suggested some efficacy for this drug in treating mania, but this finding was not confirmed in controlled studies. . .  Other controlled studies in patients with mania/mixed states and hypomania found no significant difference between lamotrigine and placebo.”

The emphasis on hypomania is my own, because often, this medication is used as a “mood stabilizer” in Bipolar II.

Like I said, I am not trying to imply that Lamictal is not a worthwhile medication.  On the contrary, I feel it is an excellent medication, especially for bipolar depression, when combined with a legitimate, tried and true mood stabilizer.  Lithium, Depakote, carbamazepine/tegretol (for a few examples), even success can be seen when combining it with antipsychotics.

But so many people out there are prescribed it as their go to.  And in a few anecdotal cases, it may help.  Hell, I’m taking gabapentin, which failed the clinicals miserably as a mood stabilizer, but works for a handful of people, myself included - in conjunction with other medications.

So consumer beware.  It’s your body.  It’s your life.  They are your ups and potentially downs, and hypomania and mania can manifest in many less obvious and unpleasant ways: anxiousness, irritability, anger, etc.  I know that of which I speak.  I lived it (and still do, in moments).  Relying on Lamictal to be a mood stabilizer is a little like doing a high wire act with a net that isn’t really there.  You feel like you should be safe, you’ve been told that you are safe, but the reality is, there isn’t anything at all to break your fall.

© Ruby Tuesday and I Was Just Thinking. . . 2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ruby Tuesday and I Was Just Thinking. . . with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. This work is protected under a Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Soul Shocked

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I confess that I have been feeling this way lately.  It’s that special time of year again, the time the creeps up on me, not without my knowledge, but at least this time without my preparedness.  The post-traumatic demons caught me, in spite of my best efforts.

You see, it was about this time two years ago that I started my course of what would ultimately be 16 shocks to my brain.  Forget what you have heard or been told by your doctors or read about the safety and efficacy of ECT for a moment and just think about it.  Think about allowing yourself to be anesthetized, given a muscle-paralyzing agent, and having someone administer an electrical shock to your brain.  Think of that, not in terms of what science says is appropriate or therapeutic, but as the actual, terrifying, barbaric procedure that electroconvulsive therapy is.

I know that ECT has helped people, and I am happy for anyone who has achieved a better quality of life, but it destroyed so much of mine.  It obliterated great pieces of my mind and of my soul, pieces I have to fight to reclaim again every single day.

You may not have a sense of it from the posts that make up this blog, but I have always lived my life as a very independent woman.  Even when my manic-depression and anxiety were at their zenith, I still fought on my own two feet.  I don’t yet know what happened inside, what caused me to “consent” to undergo a procedure I had researched thoroughly and had been vehemently against for years.  But it changed me in ways I am still trying to wrap my mind around.

The Thursday before last, I called my psychiatrist and my mom called off from work.  My father was at home as well, but I was simply too distraught to be left.  I spent the greater part of that day curled up in my parents’ bed, alternating between crying, sleeping, and taking my next dose of alprazolam.  My mother watched over me, sometimes just sitting and talking or holding me, other times peeking through the gap in the doorway at me as I slept.

I had come to a crossroads of sheer terror that morning.  It was An Unspeakable Dilemma all over again, minus the seizures.  I knew I couldn’t continue to live the way that I had been, but I also knew I wasn’t ready to confront and work through the trauma that was holding me hostage.  I had no direction in which to flee, monsters surrounded me at every turn.

But somehow, between my mother’s love, my doctor’s care, the soporific effects of the Xanax, and the oblivion of sleep, I passed the time.  I saw my psychiatrist the next day, and we discussed the issue very generally.  He doesn’t know all of the gory details of the situation, he hasn’t been treating me for very long.  But he is a kind and extremely knowledgeable man. He prescribed more alprazolam, 2 mg t.i.d (three times a day), and we discussed a more comprehensive plan.

He wants me to see a psychologist and be treated with Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing therapy (you might read the article EMDR-Breakthrough Therapy for Overcoming Anxiety,Stress,Trauma & Self-Sabotage for an explanation of this technique).  Generally, I don’t do well in therapy, but I underwent EMDR years ago for a different issue and found it tremendously effective.  I also found the process itself incredibly distressing.  You have to relinquish control (which I am terrible at), trust your therapist completely (which I am equally bad at), and be prepared to be hit by memories, feelings, and thoughts that you had no idea were even disturbing you (I’m no good at that one, either).

But.  Something’s got to give.  I really feel that with all of my Alphabet Soup diagnoses, post-traumatic stress disorder is the most horrible and virtually impossible to deal with.  Right now I have fallen back into patterns of insomnia (I haven’t slept since Friday night), I am reactive and irritable, I am scared and anxious, and I am in danger of becoming the ugly, hurtful, hateful person I found when I reread much of this blog.  The woman who lashes out at those who love and support her, the woman who dissociates and creates different identities just to get through the day, the one who suffers from strange forms of paranoia.

So I am taking steps.  I have finally worked up the nerve to begin to read an excellent book I have on the subject of PTSD, and I also just purchased a text on EMDR, written by Dr. Francine Shapiro (who “originated and developed” the therapy).  I even had a really brave moment and made an appointment with my psychologist for later this week.  I can’t say with any certainty that I am ready to start this therapy, but as least she is someone I trust (mostly) whom I can discuss my options with.  And I have another appointment in a day or so with my psychiatrist.  He’s keeping a close eye on me.

And, oddly enough, I’m not really doing so terribly.  I am keeping my mind occupied and surrounding myself with supportive people.  I’m journaling and doing a great deal of housecleaning, both literally and figuratively.

Moral of the story:  

“We are healed of a suffering only by experiencing it to the full.” ~ Marcel Proust


© Ruby Tuesday and I Was Just Thinking. . . 2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ruby Tuesday and I Was Just Thinking. . . with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. This work is protected under a Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Two Roads To Walk Down And One Road To Choose

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So many people I know who deal with mental differences frequently discuss to concept of stigma.  The term has been used with such frequency, and me being a pain in the ass stickler for semantics, well certain things began to ring false to me.  Not deliberately or maliciously or even consciously false, but false nonetheless.

Stigma is very interesting, speaking strictly from a linguistic perspective.  Merriam-Webster calls it “: a mark of shame or discredit,” but also (and with equal weight) ”an identifying mark or characteristic; specifically : a specific diagnostic sign of a disease.”

So how do you choose to define it?  If you apply the second definition to your mental health diagnosis, it is completely, totally, and 100% true and accurate.  Unless you’re me, but I also refuse the label of my mental wiring being a disease or an illness.  Not coincidentally, I don’t feel stigmatized in my life.

It seems to me that the term stigma has turned into a convenient catch-all for many who carry a diagnosis and choose to call themselves “mentally ill.”  Individuals apply it to negative reactions, all and any they receive from someone who finds out they carry a mental health diagnosis.  Individuals use it as a shield when they become symptomatic and then, after the fact, are unable or unwilling to cop to things they may have done or said in the midst of their episodes.  Individuals use it as an excuse, a type of fear, The Big Bad Wolf that they are hiding from – stigma is what is preventing them from disclosing their struggle, otherwise they really would.  Individuals also use it to demonize behavior that is completely justified – professionals withholding strong prescription pain pills from a self-confessed addict, or anyone seeking to involuntarily hospitalize a severely depressed individual who has a history of repeated suicide attempts or self injury.

Easy for me to say, of course, because I don’t fall into these categories.  Don’t I?  And even if I don’t, I know and love numerous people who do.  Whether or not you believe it, it’s actually much easier for me to find flaws in and fault with and blame myself than it is someone I love or care for.  I screw up once, I should have known better and I beat myself up to within an inch of my life.  Someone I love screws up repeatedly, over a period of years, and every single time I calmly discuss with them the whys and how they got to that point and how they’re going to keep from getting there again.  There is no, “Too bad, hon, you fucked up, you deal with the consequences.”

Obviously that happened to be the application of stigma that lit a fire under my ass today.  As to the others:  You may have people who know your diagnosis reacting negatively to you because they’re having a bad day, because you’re behaving like a shit and you’ve provoked it, or a million other reasons.  It may be your diagnosis, but honey, let me tell you – more often than not, it isn’t.

As far as applying it to the things you may have done or said that hurt someone while you were symptomatic, yes, one would hope people would have enough human decency to understand that sometimes your behavior is beyond your control.  One would also hope you would have enough human decency to talk to people and explain and apologize when necessary.  Just because you did something that was out of your control, that’s in no way an excuse or a justification, and it doesn’t make it right.  Most of the time both of those hopes will be dashed unequivocally.  Just so you know.

As for feeling like stigma is The Big Bad Wolf in your life, someone I know said it before and said it better:

“One of the nice things about having voices across the spectrum, people who have roles in all walks of life – personal and professional – is that we can really get some different input and perspective on the question about being open with our mental health diagnoses.  Is it so wrong to hide it (sic) from people?  Does that silence ultimately contribute to misunderstanding and stigma?  If you want to be an advocate, are you in any position to be one if you will speak and discuss it anonymously online, but will not fight the fight and “suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune” in your daily life, amongst people whom you face every day?

“Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. gave his life for his beliefs.  Would you?  What about for your children?  In case you haven’t heard, if you are diagnosed with a mental health issue the odds of your child having one increase quite considerably.  What will you say to your child when you tell them that depression is not anything they should be ashamed of, and they look at you and ask, “Then why did you hide it from people, Mom?” (from the post To Out Thyself Or Not To Out Thyself, by my good friend Always).

Moral of the story:  Choose your words carefully.  They might just come back to bite you in the ass.

© Ruby Tuesday and I Was Just Thinking. . . 2011. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ruby Tuesday and I Was Just Thinking. . . with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. This work is protected under a Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Inspiration To Take On Yet Another Project (Of A Sort)

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Or, ‘I Know, I Do It To Myself’

Some interesting things happened while I wasn’t paying attention.  I got older and so did my babies.  I’m not really that old, I’m roughly around the third decade of life.  And my babies – well, they’re eight and eleven, which to me is hard to wrap my head around as I met them when they were days old.

In case you missed it, my babies are neither biologically nor legally my own.  I was a nanny, but they are the only kids I will ever have, and I love them every bit as much as I would had I birthed them.  Trust me on that one.  Also, because it’s relevant, they’re both girls.

Thing is, even though I don’t have them in my care full-time anymore, I still want to do everything I can to help them navigate the challenges life throws at them.  And I also think I have a very unique and special opportunity to play an important role in their lives, because we have a bond that is similar to parent/child in some ways, but now that they’re older it’s turned a lot more into a friendship.

Do you have any idea how immensely beneficial that could be?  For them to have an adult in their life who has known them forever, whom they trust and are comfortable talking to, who won’t judge or punish, who will keep their secrets, who will talk with them openly and honestly, and whom they might feel more comfortable discussing certain things with than they would their parents?

I am not trying to take over the role of parent or make Mom or Dad obsolete.  I hope that they both feel they can always turn to their parents, first and foremost.  But let’s face it, different adolescent and teenage girls have different comfort levels talking about certain things, there are different dynamics involved when you talk to a parent than someone you think of as a friend (albeit a much older one), and I am not so old as to have forgotten there were definitely things I was never comfortable mentioning to my parents.  That’s just how it goes.

The other part is that a general paradigm shift occurred as my girls and I got older.  I went from being the typical, bugged by teens as a group and their perceived lack of awareness of the world around them adult to a curious observer who was intrigued, and wanted to know what they thought and what they faced in their lives and what interested them and distressed them and made them happy.  I want to know about pressure and insecurity and role models and how they feel about the lives they live.  What is their relationship with their parents like?  How young do they really start to think seriously about sex, and when and why do they have it for the first time?  What about fashion and media and trends and everything?

But how do I go about finding this kind of stuff out?  I don’t want to get a degree in psychology and become a counselor, I just want to talk to teenagers, especially the female ones, in groups and one-on-one and figure out their world.  But you can’t just go up to a group of teen girls and introduce yourself and say, “Hey, tell me all about your most secret dreams and fears and hopes and desires.”  Creepy much?

I don’t know a single teenager.  I need an “in.”  I did some cursory surfing of blogs here on WordPress and didn’t find much.  So tell me, what do I do?  How do I go about this?  Does anyone reading this have any resources for me?  Do any of you have teenage or tween daughters (or nieces, or cousins, or anythings) that you could send this link to?  Are any of you who are reading this serendipitously teenage girls?

Help me out, for me and for my babies.  And if you are a parent or a counselor or anyone who could direct me towards groups for teenagers or even a single individual but want reassurances that I’m not a weird, creepy troll, email me at mywonderfulabnormalmind@gmail.com.  I will forgo certain rules I have on this blog as far as anonymity in private correspondence if you can help me to help be a resource to my girls.  Ask and I will answer.

Moral of the story:  Sometimes the best way to find help is to flat-out ask for it.  I know, novel concept.

© Ruby Tuesday and I Was Just Thinking. . . 2011. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ruby Tuesday and I Was Just Thinking. . . with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. This work is protected under a Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Benzos, Benzos, And Lots More Benzos

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“the bitch is back” – and all password protection is off!

***WARNING:  Children, and adults who behave like children, don’t try this at home.***

I do so lurve me some benzos.  Mostly.  I lurve them because I have this insanely high tolerance, my docs have all told me that with the various and sundries that I take – at my pinnacle, four, actually maybe five, varieties simultaneously – in the doses I’m prescribed. . . Well those suckers should take down someone more than three times my weight.  Me, I don’t even get drowsy.  So I don’t fear mixing and matching as something potentially fatal (although I’m also responsible and knowledgeable when I do).

I hate them because I have this insanely high tolerance, so they don’t really do much for me, even in insanely high doses and innumerable combinations.  Except apparently minimize pseudoseizures – which actually kind of freaks me out, because they have not helped them in the past, so. . .

I swear though, if I ever accidentally overdose, it will not be on benzodiazepines.

Oh, here’s something else I didn’t know, or knew but forgot.  Ortho Evra (the patch), my preferred form of HBC, should increase the effects of diazepam (generic Valium).  Ha!  Love to love the Multi-Drug Interaction Checker (Medscape).  Bookmark it, embrace it, learn to love it as I have over many, many years.  That needs to go on my informational page, at some point.

I would wager my metabolism against any volume and mix of benzos. . .  I think I wrote that before in another post.  Incidentally, the key word in that last sentence is would.  Not the same as will.  That would be a waste of occasionally effective medications!

Oh, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m getting very virulent here and saying fuck all to convention.  Because apparently I still kowtowed to it on occasion.  So fuck all to not joking about suicide because I’m bipolar, fuck all to people in my life abandoning me because I got “too crazy,” fuck all to password protection!  This has been an extremely enlightening experience for me.

Fuck all to everyone and everything.  This here is my personal stomping ground, and if you don’t like it, go find yourself somewhere you can tiptoe around with others who are afraid of pure, unadulterated, uncensored honesty.

Now I’m gonna go mix me some benzos and try to sleep.

The End.

Moral of the story:  ”If you can’t handle me at my best. . .”  And if you can’t finish the quote, you haven’t been paying attention.  To anything.

© Ruby Tuesday and I Was Just Thinking. . . 2011. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ruby Tuesday and I Was Just Thinking. . . with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. This work is protected under a Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Lessons I Have Learned About The Interweb And Me

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This is the post that has been stewing around in my mind.  That’s probably why I didn’t write it yesterday, because it wasn’t done cooking.  My ideas don’t come out until they’re good and ready to.

This really goes back to when I got my new laptop about eight months ago and started using Word.  The Auto Correct got me so bugged, because when I write, I write according to my rules, not Microsoft’s.  And mine are usually correct where theirs are not, for the record (which is not to say I don’t make conscious choices to break them, because I do that when I feel it’s warranted).  I was given an incredible education in grammar thanks to my first elementary school (in Pittsburgh).  We began diagramming sentences in the third grade, my high school out westward didn’t broach that concept until Honors English in the tenth, I think.  And of course I have major issues about anyone or anything changing my writing without my explicit permission.  I’m going to be hell on an editor one day.  :)

But I knew how to turn that feature off, so okay.

Here’s how that relates.  Google Chrome is awesome for some things, one of them being that it underlines a word when you’ve misspelled it.  In theory, this is handy.  But not unlike Auto Correct, the predictive text feature on my phone, and every spell check/pre-designed electronic dictionary feature I have ever encountered, there are words that I use that Google Chrome doesn’t have in its repertoire.  You can add words to the dictionary, which is nice.  But more and more I found myself relying on it to just ‘click and fix.’  I would have it just change the word for me and not pay attention to what my mistake was.

I started making more and more errors.  I thought it was due to my memory issues and general mental state.

One day, I don’t know what exactly prompted it, I stopped with the ‘click and fix.’  If I saw a word underlined, I would look at it and figure out how to fix it myself (I have always been an excellent speller, that probably would have been something good to include prior to this).  From there I progressed to fully using my own brain, and when that couldn’t get it completely, a real, actual, print form dictionary.  I heart my dictionary.  It’s enormous and beautiful and I spent well over one hundred dollars on it thirteen years ago.  I hunted and hunted until I found the perfect one.  It’s a Merriam-Webster, for anyone who cares.  I love Oxford, and one day I would love to get my hands on a copy of the complete OED, but Oxford is an English language dictionary – as in British English – and I live in the United States, so I write in American English (even though the British English variations so often look much more aesthetically pleasing).

So guess what has happened since then?  I have been making fewer and fewer mistakes, and the ones I do make are usually because I’m not focused or my fingers are flying across the keyboard too quickly.  It’s helped me have so much more confidence in my brain’s abilities.

As to other things online, I got into this terrible habit of leaving my email open while I wasn’t using it, so I would get a new message while I was trying to do something else, and even if I tried to ignore it, I would still lose my focus a little.  I would leave tabs open which I didn’t need at the moment, all sorts of things that not only ended up making me crazy and distracted while online, but in life.  I stopped doing that less than two weeks ago, and I am so much more focused and relaxed, generally.

I noticed something else, which is using the computer makes me sleepy but unable to sleep.  Things like reading, or even watching a film, only make me sleepy when I’m genuinely tired, and I fall asleep easily (easily for me).

Of course computers and the internet have their positives.  Documents are easier to edit and don’t have to be rewritten in their entirety longhand.  You are given the ability to easily connect with loved ones states or even continents away – although I still say letters and phone calls beat emails and IMs any day.  You have access to articles it would take you ages to locate at the library (love me some PubMed!), I’m not trying to bash the whole concept.  But I know that in many ways computers and being online were making me lazy and contributing immeasurably to any cognitive deficits I am already dealing with.

Oh, and because I am a huge believer in full disclosure about the important stuff, I always use the proofread feature after I have written something.  But if there is ever a doubt about what the computer says versus what I think is correct, I consult an impartial expert – my dictionary.  :)

Moral of the story:  Try relying on your own brain some time.  You’ll be amazed what that sucker is capable of!

© Ruby Tuesday and I Was Just Thinking. . . 2011. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ruby Tuesday and I Was Just Thinking. . . with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. This work is protected under a Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Fighting Dragons

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So I am officially making a post for everyone in my life who has struggled (and no one hasn’t), supported me, and helped prop me up and regain perspective.  Whether I have known you forever or just a short time, I really appreciate the support you have shown me.  Thanks especially to the beautiful woman I spoke with at great length today on the phone.  Oh, yeah, and you, Always.  Bitch.  Also, I’ve missed you.

I don’t feel like I know what tomorrow will bring.  I don’t even know what the rest of tonight will bring.  But right now that’s something I can deal with.  Right now.  The only certainty that exists for me is uncertainty.  That’s the crux of PTSD.  It’s forever, and you never know when it’s going to come fuck you up.

Now I don’t claim to be okay with this, not by a long way.  I have to figure it out and figure out why and conquer it, goddamnit.  You would think I would have learned with the bipolar that it doesn’t always work out that way.  Well, I did, but only specific to the bipolar.  Also it took me six years.

But focusing on the positives right now.  A major step in my life this past week has been reaching a point where I’m even beginning to consider that accepting the uncertainty is the key to it all.  Yes, I still want to work on what in particular triggered me at this moment and to this degree.  However, I also need to take this one in bits, and be vigilant for warning signs.  These need to be noticed for two important reasons.  First, those little things that start causing me to react in any way need to be noted, if I’m going to have any chance of wading through this.  Second, post-traumatic stress disorder is the absolute antithesis of anything I have ever dealt with.  The worst thing I can do is to fight it, head-to-head, refusing to back down, completely unarmed.  I need a great deal more insight before I can confront anything.

The other part, which is a killer for me, is working on accepting that I may not be able to figure it out.  And that even if I do, that’s this time.  The very beautiful woman I referenced above reminded me that sometimes you have no idea what triggers reactions.  That will be my biggest challenge, I suspect.

But at this moment I can take it on.  Lately, when I have lost myself, someone (often multiple someones) has seemingly popped out of nowhere to help me to find that woman whom I have mislaid (which also reminds me that she is not lost, just temporarily missing).  Ultimately, I know this is something I have to do alone.  But it makes an amazing difference when I have people reminding me of the fact that I can and will.

Love and kisses to you all.  And please actually click on and watch the video.  I had to make a concession to the wobbly camera, but you have no idea how hard I worked to find the best version possible.  Well, one of you does.  ;)

And “May these memories break our fall.”


(This song and video are solely the property of their respective owners and artists. Absolutely no copyright infringement is intended.)

Moral of the story:  OCD can be a good thing at times.  But people who truly care are always far better.

© Ruby Tuesday and I Was Just Thinking. . . 2011. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ruby Tuesday and I Was Just Thinking. . . with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. This work is protected under a Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.