Category Archives: Mental Illness

Jia Shares

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Today Jia of Color Me Untypical shares with us a post she had written previously on her blog. Rather than put her reasons why she is exceptionally proud of her post and what it represents in my words, I am going to show you exactly what she said to me about what she had written. Jia wrote:

“I’m proud of this post for a very strange reason.

About a week previous to this one, I had a very big accomplishment in dealing with agoraphobia and OCD, but this one, this one shows a break. And the breaks are real. They can’t and shouldn’t be ignored. This break shows me that I survived a very dark day.

The good days are easy to write about. They make us feel normal. It’s the bad days where we have to dig deep to find the courage, the healing, and the motivation to keep going.”

Keeping Me Down

Babysteps.

One out the front door.
One down the street.
One step to overcome fear.
One step to fight anxiety.
One step to say no to depression.
One step, straight into a wall built by OCD . . .
Depression returns, anxiety controls and fear swallows me whole.

I try to be lighthearted. I try to find the silver lining.
I try to let humor, and not anger, control my thoughts.

But when it comes down to it, I hate OCD.
It lies to me. But it’s so convincing.

OCD tells me that there is a great big red wall that I cannot climb.
There is no wall there.
But OCD lies so well that I can actually see it. Touch it. Feel it.

Other people walk into a garden and they see a poisonous snake.
They feel fear. They feel anger. They want to attack.
They want to run away.

OCD tells me that walking into a disorganized situation is poisonous.
It makes me fear. It makes me angry. It makes me want to attack.
It makes me want to run away.

It’s as real to me as any physical predator

Last week I learned to crawl.

This week I tried to run.

Skipped a very important step along the way.

I fell.

I fell hard.

Bruised and broken, but not dead.

The last time I fell, I was sure I was gone forever.
There was no coming back.
But now I know the signs.
I ran away from the fire of a bad situation fast.
Not fast enough to escape without burns and scars.
But fast enough to live.

Sometimes I wish these mental handicaps were physical.
Then people might see me, and understand.

Understand that when you fall, your brain tells you that you’re in pain.
Mine tells me that I am worthless, useless, broken …
And it hurts.
Even if most of the time I don’t agree.
It still hurts.

Yesterday, my body started failing me. Legs giving out. Knees buckling. Feet . . . . felt broken.
My body gave out hours after the rest of me did.
The physical pain came much later than the mental pain. The emotional pain. The fear. The anger. The confusion.

Someone kindly said, “I hope you’re knee heals soon.”
Assuming that I was injured.
I smiled. Kind words from a stranger.
A stranger who had no idea the severity of my wounds.
That I had stopped feeling the pain in my knee long ago.

“Get over it.”
“Count your blessings.”
“There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

These are just words.
You don’t understand.

And because you don’t understand, it’s so hard to explain.
I wish it was as easy as having the willpower.
I wish I was normal.

I wish I wasn’t broken.

I wish I could be like everyone else.
But with red hair.

Thank God for a husband who may not understand, but tries.
A man who loves me despite my battle scars.
Who sticks by me through this constant war.
A man who painfully, regretfully, suffers with me.

Thank God for friends who know.
Friends who live it with me.
Friends who have crumbled, shattered and survived.

Who know that symptoms can come and go.
Friends who speak OCD.
Who speak depression.
Who understand mental metaphors.
Who understand my language.

I am NOT alone.

I will heal again.
I will.

You can find Jia’s original post at Color Me UnTypical – Keeping Me Down

Controlling and Challenging Changes

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I love my husband very much, but sometimes being his wife is very difficult. As I have gotten more emotionally healthy, it seems that there are times of great friction in our marriage. I think it is because I am changing and the changes are not always comfortable to him. My changes mean he might have to change to keep up with me. There have been many times through this healing process that I have wondered if our marriage would disintegrate  or if we would come out of this with a healthier marriage.

When my depression was out of control and I could barely function, he had to be controlling. He had to encourage me to eat, take care of our child, get me to take care of myself and so on. To some degree, he still exhibits that controlling behavior. To a great degree, I really resent it.  I am not sure why he is still doing it, but I have a few theories.

It is possible that it has become such a habit for him that he is not totally aware of when he is doing it. Another thought I had, is that he is afraid that if he loses that control over me then I might have a break down, or that I might not need him anymore. The pay off is better for him if I remain – to some degree – emotionally unhealthy, because then he will not have to work to catch up to me. I think it is possible that all of those theories together might be accurate.

As much as I may resent his controlling behavior, I am still making choices to put up with it. There was a pay off for me in accepting it. My life was easier, I had few responsibilities, and I was not often put in the position of having to make difficult decisions very often. However, I feel as if I have finally become a “grown up” and I no longer want someone else controlling every aspect of my life. It has become time for me to act like the “grown up” I am and take back control of my life.
This week, I have made some decisions that not only are challenging to me, but they also directly challenging my husband and his need to control me. It has caused some extra stress and friction in our marriage. My hope is that once we get through this period of friction that he will see that I am capable of making decisions for myself and let go of some of his attempt at control.

The big choice I have made this week, is to make the 4 hour drive to Augusta – to see my parents – without him. This is huge, because before depression treatment, I had become agoraphobic. Unless, I was going to see my lung doctor, I would not leave a certain square mile radius around my home. I considered it my safety zone. Since my suicide attempt, I have not driven much at all. Mostly in areas in my small town. Some of that was due to medications side affects, as well as how my physical health made me feel. It was probably not safe for me to be on the roads with all of that going on. Now that my physical health is improving, and I am on less psychiatric medication, I feel comfortable driving further distances.

I have several reasons for wanting to make this drive. The first and main one is to prove to myself that I can do it. I see it as a huge step towards independence for myself. Another reason I want to do this is so that I have transportation when I get to Augusta, which means a little more freedom for me. It also saves my mom from having to drive all the way up here to get me, and then have to turn around and drive back to her house. My mother is having some minor surgery on November 3rd and I really want to be there to help her in any way she might need. She has spent a lot of this last year taking care of me, and doing things for me, and I see this as an opportunity to do the same for her. The final reason I want to drive there is to make things easier for my dad. The truck I drive belongs to him. He mentioned to me the last time he was up here, that in a couple of weeks he would trade vehicles with me – letting me drive his car – so that he could get some work done on the truck. My dad is a very busy man, there are times when it is difficult for him to make the 4 hour drive up here. If I drive the truck down to where he lives, then it saves him from having to come all the way up here just to pick it up. I am grateful that he allows me the use of his vehicle and if it is in my power to make his life a little easier by taking the truck to him, then that is what I need – should – do.

At the beginning of the week, I told my husband about my plans to drive to Augusta. I also told him that either I or my daughter would call him every hour so that he would know that we were safe. He did not say much at the time. I assumed that since he did not say much that he was okay with it. I was wrong. The evening after I told him, he let me know what a bad idea he thought it was. He even went so far as to say, that I “would make everyone worry”.  I responded with “I cannot make anyone worry, that is their choice.” Logically, I know that his statement was nothing more than a tactic to try and make me feel guilty and not make the drive. Personally, I also saw it as a bullying tactic. He knows I care about my family – parents included – and that by telling me it would make everyone worry was his way to strong arm me into doing what he wanted. I told him he was being a bully and that I would not discuss the subject with him until he could talk to me appropriately. There was a stony silence the rest of the night.

It took a couple of days, but he has finally begun to talk about the drive in the appropriate way. He is no longer trying to bully me into not doing it. He has been asking the proper questions about how long I will stay and etc. He has even discussed with me how long I think I will take me to make the drive. His attitude change has taken some stress out of the situation. I am hoping and praying that it lasts.

In no way do I think that his change of attitude about this one thing, means that he has changed his controlling behavior completely. However, I think by making a stand about something that was important to me has given him a wake up call that I am no longer willing to be lead around. I love him dearly, he has stuck by me when a lot of husband would not, but for my own mental health I need for him to let go of the controlling behavior. At this time, his willingness or unwillingness has become something of a deal break or maker for our marriage.

Jia's Inspiration

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I love today’s post from Jia of Color Me UnTypical. She is heart felt and honest in sharing with us about where she draws her inspiration from.

Sources for Inspiration:

I find my best inspiration is in music and faith.

I am a very religious person and reading scriptures helps bring peace to my constantly working mind. It’s nice to concentrate on something that’s not dark and dreary. It’s good to read the promises of God, that He is always there for me.

Music inspiration I get from artists like Cherie Call, Kenneth Cope, Hillary Weeks and Jenny Jordan Frogley.

Cherie Call’s song, “Somebody Else’s Shoes” is one of the things that motivated me to take a step and begin living my own life (mentall illness included) instead of trying to be perfect for everyone else.

Because it’s so difficult explaining OCD to someone who doesn’t understand it, I usually refer to myself as, “Broken.” Because that’s how I’ve always felt. Broken. Damaged. Beyond repair. But then I heard the song, “Broken” by Kenneth Cope and it gave me such perspective on the word. The song talks about how broken clouds give rain, broken soil grows grain, broken bread feeds man, broken storms yeild light.. etc. There is a line in the song that really hits home for me and it says, “This broken soul that cries for mending. This broken heart for offering. I’m convinced that God loves broken me. Praise His name, my God loves broken things.”

I listen to that song almost daily as a reminder that being broken is not always a bad thing. Broken my gives a chance for others to maybe witness a healing miracle. Broken me will be able to tell others that being broken does not mean you are useless, or worthless. Broken is still beautiful.

Jia 's Resources

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Today Jia of Color Me UnTypical shares with us some of her mental health resources.

My list of Mental Health resources:

Bloggers:

I have three main bloggers that I read to help when I am having a high trigger day.

– Depressions and Confessions (http://depressionsandconfessions.com)
– Moosh in Indy (http://mooshinindy.com)
– Surviving Limbo (http://survivinglimbo.wordpress.com)

Books/Programs:

– Anxiety and Phobia Workbook
– Panic Away (I give credit to this program to helping me overcome a lot of my agoraphobia and panic attacks that come when being out of the house on my own.)

TV/Movies:

For some reason, it is very theraputic to watch others on television experience similar things I go through in real life. While I know it may be hard for some, I find it’s like watching television in a language that I speak.

– Monk
– Aviator
– What About Bob?

– Obsessed
– Hoarders
– The OCD Project

Mental Health Blogger Of The Week – Jia

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I would like to introduce this week’s Mental Health Blogger Of The Week. Jia of Color Me UnTypical. Rather than tell you about Jia, and I am going to let her tell you about herself, with her answers to the questions I asked her. I found what she shared to be very inspiring, I am sure you will as well.

I would like to apologize for not having this posted on Monday – like I was supposed to – I have had some internet difficulties that have gotten in the way of a few things.

1. What type of mental illness/es do you have?

— I have general anxiety disorder, obsessive compulsive disorder, depression and mild agoraphobia. It’s a very bitter cocktail. I’d much rather have a virgin margarita.

2. When were you first diagnosed with your mental illness?

— I remember being fifteen and diagnosed with depression. But going through old paperwork that my family kept, I found documents from doctors that I visited with when I was very young (after the death of my mother, around 2 years old) where they talk about certain compulsions and other issues I was going through as a result of my mothers death.

I discovered I had OCD when I was around twenty-two years old. Another young member of my family was diagnosed with OCD and we, as a family, decided to research in order to help her. In the process many of us found out that we ourselves had OCD as well, though we vary in types.

The anxiety and agoraphobia are the most recent.

3. In what ways, if any, do you believe your life has changed since your diagnosis?

— Battling depression has been on and off and it feels like a storm that comes and goes. Sometimes it stays longer, sometimes it’s very quick but either way I can’t play outside when it’s around.

The OCD has changed my life the most because unlike the clouds of depression, OCD is hard for me to distinguish sometimes. It’s a voice in my head that’s in a constant state of “What if?” My conscious self says, “I know the chances of me getting killed by a red car are slim.” But my OCD says, “But what if?” So the conscious me has to decide if it’s worth it to just avoid red cars all together. And my OCD agrees that yes, yes it is. That is the very basic of how my OCD works. It’s all about what feels right. What feels correct and safe. Everything from words spoken, to actions taken. It effects me the most.

4. What are some positive things you have learned about yourself since your diagnosis?

— I’ve learned how strong my marriage is. My husband has put up with a lot in regards to my illness. But he supports me. All of me. And sometimes dealing with mental illness has caused a lot of strain on our marriage and our lives all together. Especially when we weren’t sure what we were dealing with. But it’s amazing to see everything we’ve overcome together.

5. At the present time, what do you believe is your biggest stumbling block?

— The frustration that comes with having a mental illness. It’s very difficult to look yourself in the mirror and say, “You have an illness. A disability. Limitations. You need to remember you can only do so much.” When these are mental limitations and not physical. If I were in a wheelchair, I wouldn’t get a job working as a window washer on skyscrapers. But yet often times I overlook my mental disabilities and put myself in situations that cause immediate triggers, anxiety and panic attacks.

6. For you personally, what do you consider a life lived well?

— A life free of fear. It’s one thing to worry about a family member if they are sick and in a hospital. It’s one thing to be afraid for your life if you’re being chased by a rabid dog. But when you think about family gatherings, potential future scenarios or even whether or not you locked the door, your body shouldn’t kick in to adrenaline overdrive. I don’t think people realise how physically exhausting it is to have anxiety disorders. They think it’s all in the head, but really, it triggers hormones and glands all over the body. Coming out of a panic attack feels like finishing a marathon. A life lived well would be one where I have energy and am not constantly tired. No fear. No regrets.

7. Do you have any children? If so, what if anything do you plan to say to them about your disorder? If you do not have any children, do you plan on having any someday? Do you think your mental health issue will or will not impact your decision to have children?

— We do not have children. It’s been suggested that poor health is impacting our fertility. Despite my desire to get healthier, my mental illness prevents me from fully engaging in a proper health program. One example: agoraphobia limits where I can work out.

8. If given the opportunity, what is something you would like to say to someone who has been recently diagnosed with the same type of mental illness that you have?

— You are not alone. Just because your family, friends, co-workers don’t understand exactly what you’re going through doesn’t mean that what you’re feeling isn’t real. I pushed off my feelings for a very long time and just tried to “push through” and in the end I was much worse for it. I tried to act normal because it was easier than trying to get people to understand what I was going through. And it only made things worse for me.

9. When deciding who you would like to have as a part of your support system, what things do you look for?

— My support system consists of people who understand the language of OCD, depression and anxiety. A common obsession when you have OCD is that you often get images of scary things. Images of hurting yourself or others. You do not want to do these things. But it’s almost like OCD is saying, “This is what it would look like if you did.” It’s very scary and hard to overcome. When I talk about it to people who understand the language, they know how to react. Whereas if you talk about that to people who don’t understand, they will immediately assume that you want to hurt yourself and other people.

It would be like getting two different types of treatments for the same disease. One treatment can help heal, while the other will only make things worse. I need people around me who understand my disease.

10. Something personal you might want to share about your journey through life with mental illness.

— It’s not all bad. There are days, weeks and even months when I’ve found myself crawling into my bedroom closet just to hide from everything else that’s out there. I’ve had those kind of breakdowns. I’ve had nights where I’ve called help lines or looked at local clinics, just in case.

But I’ve had good days. I’ve had days where I can laugh about my smaller compulsions. I can joke with my sisters who both have OCD. I tell them that I wish I had their type of OCD because I’d rather be a germaphobe and have a clean house than an obsessor and think about a clean house.

Laughter gets me through my days.

11. Are there any doors that have been opened to you as a result of you having a mental illness?

— People. I’ve met the most amazing people because of mental illness. People who also suffer and understand me. If I didn’t have my mental illnesses, I wouldn’t know what they have gone through, and wouldn’t feel that connection to them.

12. Do you believe that there is a stigma associated with people who have a mental illness? If so, what do you think can be done to help eliminate it?

— Absolutely. People think that if you have a mental illness you can either just get over it, think positive, pray harder or take a pill and it will magically go away. That’s not how it works. Because of my mental illness, I can’t work outside of the house. This is something I have had a hard time coming to terms with. Many embarassing moments in the workforce that could have been avoided if I listened to my mind and body at how I was reacting to things.

It’s difficult talking to people about that because they assume that I can just get over it. Or if I needed the money badly enough, my mental illnesses would just go away. I’ve heard many times, “I know you have OCD, but just think about how better your life would be if you had more money.” It’s like telling someone who was missing a leg, “I know you’re missing a leg, but think about how much you could do if you just got over it and tried to run.”

Just because something seems easy to the rest of the world, doesn’t mean that it’s easy for those of us with mental illnesses.

13. What prompted you to begin blogging about your mental health issue?

— I was at my worst in February of this last year. After a scary experience at a job, I had a breakdown and lost control. My OCD took over and I could not face the world. I became nearly completely agoraphobic, only going outside when in the company of my husband and not for very long periods of time. I shut out friends and family completely. In trying to explain what happened, I realised that no one would understand everything.

I realised that I was someone different with everyone around me. I was putting on different shoes anytime I left the house. I had my friends shoes. My Church shoes. My family shoes. My inlaws shoes (the shoes that never accidentally drop an f-bomb). And so on. I was trying to be whoever everyone else needed me to be. But I wasn’t perfect. I was broken. And now my break was so bad that I couldn’t fake anything anymore.

So I stopped faking everything. I let everything out. I wrote all the crazy out of me, onto my blog and said I was done being anything that wasn’t me. Has it caused problems? Certainly. People get offended on occasion. But I’ve realised that that is their issue and not mine. It’s one less thing I have to worry about.

I felt an obligation to blog about mentall illness. If people don’t read and hear about what it’s like, then stigmas will remain in place and no one will be able to heal.

My Depression And Diabetes Cycle

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Asking me which came first, my depression or my diabetes, is kind of like asking that age old question about the chicken and the egg. I think in the grand scheme of things it does not really matter which came first. All that really matters is that I have both. What I find true for me is that both illnesses seem to feed off of each other. When my blood glucose levels are out of control, the physical effects make me feel depressed, and when I feel depressed I have a hard time managing my diabetes. On the flip side, treating my depression can – and has – made my diabetes worse, and managing my diabetes is sometimes a depressing process.

Before I began treatment for my depression, I was not managing my diabetes like I was supposed to. A lot of the time, I was not bothering to check my blood glucose levels and would inject myself with an arbitrary amount of insulin. Anyone with diabetes knows what kind of trouble trouble this can lead to. Blood glucose levels bottoming out. More than once I found myself in an intensive care bed because of doing this. When I was not injecting myself with too much insulin, I was not bothering to inject myself at all. It was rare that my blood glucose levels were where they were supposed to be. Due to my mismanagement, they were either way too high or way too low. I believe how these extremes made me feel physically added to my mental health decline.

After I began depression treatment – and I mentally started feeling better – I was no longer so carefree about checking my blood glucose levels. I tested myself four to six times a day, and strictly followed my insulin dosing directions. I was feeling better all the way around. Then I had an asthma flare that resulted in me being admitted to the hospital and placed on IV steroids. All those steroids sent my blood glucose levels soaring. The doctor treating me in the hospital became very concerned about the levels and gave the nurses instructions to give me insulin injections every four hours. When I was released from the hospital, I had to continue the every four hour injection schedule until I was no longer taking oral steroids. Even at night there was no relief from this schedule. It did not take long for all these extra injections to begin to get to me. I felt the return of some of my depression symptoms.

With the return of some of my depression symptoms, my diabetes management was affected. I actually went through a stage of rebellion. I made choices to not see the doctor who was treating me for my diabetes, and did not schedule the blood work that he had ordered. I wish now that I had not allowed my depression symptoms to affect my diabetes management. In some ways, I paid a heavy price for my period of rebellion.

Many depression medications have the potential to raise blood glucose levels. This happens because antidepressants can inhibit the production of insulin in a person’s body. This can lead to a Type II Diabetes diagnosis for some people, or make it difficult or impossible for many diabetics to properly manage their diabetes. Another reason this happens is that many anti-depressants cause intense feelings of hunger – especially for carbohydrates – leading to weight gain. This weight gain can increase a person’s risk for developing Type II Diabetes and it can also hinder proper management of diabetes.

My poor choices to not see my medical doctor – and to not have the blood work I was supposed to –  left my doctors in the dark about how the depression medications were affecting me physically. They had no idea how bad my blood glucose levels were getting, and I was not going to tell them. All I cared about at the time, was being able to keep taking the antidepressant that had worked so well on my brain. The nurse – that was supposed to monitor things like this – left the mental health treatment center I go to, making it very easy to continue hiding what was going on.

All of my poor decisions caught up to me on the day that I fainted and woke up with my face firmly planted on asphalt. The day after that happened, I had to go to the mental health treatment center. My face looked bad and caught the attention of the new nurse. After a quick exam – in which she discovered that my blood glucose was over 400 – she made me go to the emergency room. When I arrived there I was treated with IV insulin and also for dehydration. The doctor told me that the dehydration had probably been caused by the massive sweating my anti-depressant caused as well as from my extremely high blood glucose levels. That trip to the emergency room was a wake up call for me. I realized that no matter how much I wanted to continue taking the depression medication that had worked so well, I could not any longer.

I got my blood work done, saw my medical doctor, and made my psychiatrist aware of what was happening to me physically. My psychiatrist had me discontinue the antidepressant that was causing the high glucose readings, and we are now in the process of finding a new one. Since discontinuing that medication I have felt better than I have in a long time. It is a shame that it took a face plant to jump start me into action.

This whole process has served as a stark reminder that my mental health is directly affected by my physical health and that my physical health is affected by my mental health. If there is a lesson that can be learned from my experience, it is that ignoring one aspect of your health for the sake of another can be detrimental to all aspects of your health.

Joining The Self-Care Challenge

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LIVING Self-Care

After seeing a post on Voice In Recovery, about LIVING the Self-Care Challenge, I decided to look into it a bit further. I liked what I saw. Basically, for 21 days,  Drs. Diane Sanford and Ann Dunnewold will be post short self-care strategies and tips. The idea is to spend only 15 minutes each day practicing self-care, using their suggestions. That is just enough time to get begin to make self care an everyday habit, without it becoming a chore.

The challenge started October 6th, and ends October 21st. Which means I am late starting it. However, the creators of the challenge have decided to continue posting tips and strategies even after the challenge ends. Since I just learned about the challenge and want to participate in it, I decided to start from Day 1 and share what I do and learn on the blog.

I am looking forward to learning new techniques that encourage good mental health, and sharing them with you!

The Pay Off

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With having to withdraw from Effexor, and trying to find a new anti-depressant, the last few weeks have been challenging. When the withdrawal process began, I was angry and physically felt awful. I was angry because I was having to stop taking a medication that had helped my mental health so much. Physically, I felt so bad because of what Effexor had been doing to my body and the effects of the withdrawal process.

There were times during that process when I did not think that what I was going through was worth it. I felt like I was unraveling mentally. The withdrawal process was worse than I had imagined it would be. I became difficult to be around, and did not want to be around anyone.

Slowly, I started to feel better. In fact, I felt better than I had in months. I did not feel like I had to struggle everyday to stay awake and move. I became more active, taking walks and spending more time outside. My blood pressure was become lower and so were my blood glucose readings.

The real pay off for all that I have gone through these last few weeks came on Thursday. I had an appointment with my medical doctor. The last time I spoke with him he was worried, very worried about my health. This time he was pleased with what he saw. Although my blood glucose readings are not within target range yet, they are considerable lower than they used to be. He took a reading while I was in his office and it was 188. My blood pressure was 140/90, last time I was there it was 186/129. I have even lost some weight. It made me feel happy to be able to go into the doctor’s office and hear good news, and not see a look of worry on everyone’s faces.

I feel good mentally and physically. All of the uncomfortableness of the last few weeks has been worth it. I even learned a few things about myself. I learned that even in a basically unmedicated state I am in much better mental health than I was last year. I learned that I am stronger than I gave myself credit for. I also learned to have a greater appreciation for all that I have gained over the last year and a half.

Out Of My Suffering Came…

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One of the things that comes to mind when I look back on my major depressive episode and my suicide attempt is that I was suffering. I was suffering mind, body and soul. I felt alone in my suffering. It appeared – to me – that there was no end to it, and that it was consuming me. I could not understand why it was happening to me. I wondered what I had done to deserve such horrible pain. The only constant in my life was never ending suffering.

Not one time could I see any benefit to what I was going through. Even months after the worst of the pain had gone away, I could not see anything positive about my suffering.  I was still angry that God had allowed it to happen. I could parrot all the wise sounding sayings about what can be gained from suffering, but I did not believe them. Those sayings made me sound as if I had moved past any residual pain and anger I may have been harboring. They made me sound as if I had found some sort of joy in the midst of my suffering. I could use them to lie, and not reveal what I really thought about my suffering.

Whatever it was about my thinking that allowed me to be a victim of my depression, was allowing me to be a victim of my suffering.  I wore it like a badge, and used it as a manipulation tool. I used my pain to inflict pain on others. I used it to excuse my bad behavior. I stayed focused on it and would not let it go. At the same time I hated all the pain that was being inflicted on me, I was holding onto it tightly. I had held onto that mantle of suffering for so long that I had no idea what I would be without it, and that scared me.

If I could no longer be a person who was suffering, who could I be? I did not believe that I had anything of substance to offer the world, except for my long standing suffering. Without it, I felt I would be an empty shell.

As I began implementing the tools my counselor was teaching me, my pain and anger began to seep away. I saw glimpses of who was hiding behind all that suffering. There was a real person there. I was seeing glimpses of the me I could be. It was then that I realized that I was more than just a person who was suffering. I was not an empty shell, I had value. The more I moved away from the suffering person I was, the more clarity I gained. I began to understand that I had been more afraid of becoming someone new and unfamiliar than I had been of losing the safety of my suffering. I could see that the person I was becoming was not the person I had been before the pain began. The intense pain I had lived through for so long had changed me, but not in a way I would have expected.

Rather than make me a harder, all that suffering had opened up a soft place in my heart that had never existed before. I was a kinder, more caring person than I ever recall being. I spent less time focusing on my own negatives and began focusing on the positives I saw in the people and world around me. I was not the angry person I had been for so long. I still did not understand why I had to go through so much pain, but that no longer mattered to me. It became more important to discover what I had gained during my time of darkness and the period of healing that followed it.

I used to be a bundle of contradictions. Part of me knew that I was a strong person. I have been through a few events in life that have proved that. However, another part of me believed that I was weak and a person who had no value. It seemed those two parts of me were in a constant battle, with the negative part of me coming out ahead most of the time. At this time in my life, those warring halves have come together. I know that I am strong, I know that I have worth, but that knowledge is tempered with just enough memories of the past to keep me humble.

In addition to becoming a kinder more caring person, I gained the ability to empathize and sympathize with other people. I learned that I was not the only person to have traveled in a long dark, pain filled tunnel. While I had made it to the light at the end of the tunnel, there were many more still stuck in the pain and darkness. With a kinder and more gentle spirit I realized I could encourage and lift up those who are still in the midst of their own suffering. I can jump up and down, and hold out my hand, showing them that there really is a light at the end of their tunnel.

I can truthfully say that out of my suffering came hope. A true and genuine soul, warming hope. It is one of the most precious things I have, because I know what it feels like to not have any hope. One of my strongest desires in life now, is to see other people come out of their places of suffering and watch as they begin to have hope of their own.

Important Words From Emily

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I have to apologize, due to my not paying attention, I missed what Emily sent me for yesterday’s post. To make up for not posting it yesterday, I will publish it at the end of the week.

Today, Emily of Surviving Limbo, shares one of her old posts with us. I am not going to say anything as an introduction for what she is sharing, I believe her post says it all.

Why Nobody Helps an Abused Child

Sad Little Princess

THE INJUSTICE OF IT ALL

When talking to my psychiatrist one day, he highlighted a notion that I’d been ignoring.  I’m not just depressed.  I am angry. I am angry at my mother for her abusive behaviors.  I am angry at my stepfather, grandmother, family members, and neighbors  for covering for her.  I am angry at the other adults in my life whose responsibility it was to look for signs of abuse and report them.  These people include my pastor, my teachers, my doctors, and my babysitters.  Most of all, I am angry at the loss of opportunity to be a different self.

What would my life be like if someone had intervened? Would I be suffering the way I am now?  Would I have the coping skills to live a much better life?  I have spent many hours contemplating, “WHY?” How could these people just ignore what was happening to me? While the answers do not satisfy my anger, perhaps they can help someone from making the same mistakes.

REASON #1  MISCONCEPTIONS RESULTED IN PEOPLE NOT RECOGNIZING THE ABUSE.

People often look for obvious signs of abuse. Violence leaves cuts and bruises; neglect may appear in dirty clothes, or an appearance of being underfed.  They also look for inappropriate behavior, low grades, and substance abuse.  These are certainly warning signs.

However, some abused kids go to the opposite extreme. They are meticulous in their work.  They get good grades.  They are well behaved and seek approval from teachers and other adult mentors.  They’re very anxious about doing something wrong.  This may give the overall impression that you’re dealing with a “good kid,” and there’s nothing to worry about.

That was me.  After I ran away from home, many of the adults who dealt with me as a child admitted they felt something was wrong. I was just too good, unnaturally good. If they’d been more perceptive, they would have noticed hyper-vigilance; I was always “on alert” and ready for something bad to happen.  They would have noticed that I flinched or startled easily.  They would have noticed that I severely overreacted to discipline.  The smallest word of disapproval would have me in tears and throwing up in the bathroom.

REASON #2  THEY WERE PART OF THE “BYSTANDER EFFECT.”

The bystander effect is a psychological phenomenon where an entire group of people witness a crime or emergency and do nothing to help. The term was coined in the 1960s when a young woman was stabbed to death in her apartment, and her neighbors heard her cries but did nothing to stop it.

The bystander effect occurs for many reasons.  People may fear they will be attacked or harmed in some way themselves if they act to intervene.  They expect someone else will do something.  They create reasons not to do anything such as, “It’s not right for me to interfere with someone else’s family.” The cynic in me says no one wants the inconvenience of filling out paperwork and talking to police.

One Halloween, my mother took me to a downtown event, a sort of street party where businesses were also giving away candy to kids.  Weeks ago, she had given me a ring to wear, a blue sapphire.  At some point, the ring slipped off my finger and was lost.  When we pulled up in the driveway, I realized it was missing, and when my mother found out, she went crazy.  She said the ring had sentimental value and started slapping me, clawing me, pulling at my hair, screaming at me, and calling me names, the usual.

When her fury started to escalate, I did what I often  had to do growing up.  I got out of the car and ran.  This time I thought I’d be smart and ran to our neighbor’s house, an elderly couple, and begged for sanctuary. They took me in, and at first, they showed the appropriate alarm, but as they were discussing whether or not  to call the police and what to do about the situation, my mother knocked on the door.

She was calm, playing the role of the exasperated mother who has a naughty little girl.  She could win an Oscar.  She told our neighbors that I was spoiled and wasn’t used to a good old-fashioned spanking.  They all laughed about it together and exchanged stories of being in trouble as a kid while my heart squeezed tighter and tighter in dread of what was coming. I was forced to go home with her, and I’ll leave the results to your imagination.

Those people KNEW.  I had just described to them in detail what had happened as I have here.  They knew I wasn’t an ordinary “kid in trouble,” yet they were more than willing to accept my mother’s explanation because they didn’t want to get involved.

REASON #3  KEEP IT IN THE FAMILY.  IT’S NOBODY’S BUSINESS BUT OURS.

Another psychological phenomenon that causes people to ignore abuse is the enabler.  The enabler is a person who cleans up the abusive parent’s mess and makes everything look normal.  They actively keep other people from finding out and intervening in the abusive behavior, so the abusive cycle continues unimpeded.  Enablers may also be victims of the abuser themselves, but they think what they are doing is “love” and protecting the family.

My grandmother was an enabler.  After one of my mother’s fits, she would try to calm me down with treats and soothing words.  She emphasized over and over that I shouldn’t tell anyone. Telling people would only embarrass the family.  Authorities  would come and break our family apart.  My mother would be hurt, and I would be responsible.   Sometimes she even went so far as to rewrite the script.  What I experienced didn’t really happen.  Instead she would paint a portrait of a much less scary and more understandable scenario.  As long as I kept quiet, everything would be okay.

My grandmother was determined to protect my mother even though she was in danger many times herself. One time, I had to wrestle with my mother to keep her from beating my grandmother with her own cane, yet when I overheard my uncle speak with my grandmother after that incident about “getting my mother some help,”  she refused outright.  My uncle didn’t push the issue, so he carries some blame in my eyes.

When I was 12, my mother married, and my stepfather also protected her. Instead of denying what happened, we would sympathize with each other in the aftermath, and  he convinced me that he WAS getting her help…next week.  Over and over.  He kept me from taking those final steps to protect myself much sooner.

IT’S ALL SO COMPLICATED

Yes, I’ll go ahead and say it.  I’m angry.  I’m pissed.  I’m FURIOUS!  All it would have taken was ONE PERSON to stand up for me!

However, it’s more complicated than my anger would like to admit.Human beings are complex and fallible. I loved my grandmother.  I can put myself in the shoes of some of the people who thought there might be something wrong but were afraid they’d make a mistake if they did something about it.  Maybe I’m partially to blame for not consistently trying to get help.  One of my former students privately told me that she was a victim of abuse.  I was horrified that I didn’t catch it while she was in high school.  She told me she was very good at covering it up.  I share in the guilt.  Also, it does only harm to hold onto all that anger.  I have to work at forgiving these people and myself too.

NOTES FROM THE AUTHOR

I’m grateful that blogging has brought me into contact with other survivors of abuse such as Just Another Person and his wife. It helps knowing your experiences aren’t freak incidences.  It helps knowing there are people who can empathize as well as sympathize with what I went through.

Pay attention to the kids in your life, not just what they say, but their body language and other behaviors.  Ask the hard questions if necessary.  You might be the one person who notices and takes action to rescue a child from an abusive situation.

Photo Attribution:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/pinksherbet/2181559194/