I have been dressing up and playing pretend for a really long time now. I've been trying to show the world (my myself) that I can be happy and that everything always works out swimmingly for me. But it's all a lie...
My psychologist told me that a way in which I can find deep, fulfilling healing is just by being honest with myself and those around me.
So, I'll start from the beginning...
Hi, my name is Eve. Well, it's not my real name but for the sake of confidentiality, we'll go with that. I'm a pretty nice gal and for the most part, I do really enjoy life, but I'll let you in on a little secret. I've been pretty sick. For a long time actually, only now I'm really been coming to grips with it. I've been suffering with this little bug for years and years and years. Basically, since I was 16. Most times, I hide this bug under my bed and it stays there and just goes to sleep. Sometimes for months, sometimes for weeks. But eventually, the dark day always comes when life's burdens get in the way and that is when the bug regains it power and awakens. That bug's name is Depression Anxiety Eating-Disorder. Mainly the bug just goes by Depression, as that is what it's mostly known for. But when days are particularly grey - similar to when you've done something really, really bad as a kid and your mom calls you by your FULL name when she wants to give you a "talking to" - yeah, Depression then becomes Depression Anxiety Eating-Disorder. For short, D.A.E.D. If you spell that backwards, it becomes DEAD, a place in which I am completely powerless, completely vulnerable, and completely broken.
Like I actually have become DEAD inside.
For years, I have spent countless hours in the offices of psychiatrists, psychologists, counsellors, social workers, doctors, and guidance counsellors. Blue Cross (Thank you Jesus for insurance and free health care) has paid hundreds to thousands of dollars in anti-depressants, mood stabilizers, hormone balancers, and anxiolytics. I have tried every alternative therapy I have ever heard of - massage, mediation, prayer, reiki, healing touch, reflexology, music therapy, art therapy, and even pet therapy. I have tried all the holistic approaches for coping such as surrounding myself with positive people, attending a church, volunteering, finding hobbies I enjoy in my spare time, exercising, eating healthy, taking vitamins and getting proper sleep every night. I do not smoke cigarettes or marijuana, snort cocaine, take ecstasy, try acid, experiment with mushrooms, get high on MDMA, get roofied, or smoke crack. I have never been a prostitute and I do not engage in promiscuous activity. I don't have a baby daddy or a baby. I'm not on welfare. I am heterosexual. I do not have any STI's. I am not suffering from a terminal or chronic physical illness. I am not handicapped. I do not have a learning disability. I was not born out of wedlock. I am not overweight. I am not underweight. I am not rich. I am not famous. I am NORMAL and I suffer with a MENTAL ILLNESS.
Research states that it's hard to know and pinpoint just exactly how one develops a mental illness. Some say genetics, some say it's the environment you grow up in, and some say both.
For me, it's definitely a combination of both. I never met my paternal grandfather, but my paternal grandmother did suffer from a bipolar disorder. Now while a bipolar disorder is very different to depression in its manifestations, the brain changes which takes place are quite similar. Without going all science-geek on you, bipolar disorder and depression are very similar in the way there is disfunction with the neurotransmitters in the brain, in particular, serotonin and norepinephrine. Basically, all a neurotransmitter is, is a brain chemical which communicates between the brain and the body. It is what is responsible for giving us emotion and feeling. The body becomes aware of the stimuli around it, determines if it's negative or positive, and the brain gives you an emotion to react in response to that stimuli accordingly. When there is disconnect or abnormal levels of these neurotransmitters (either too high or too low), this is how many mood disorders can commence.
While I definitely have the genetic factor already predisposing me to having a mental illness, I can admit that growing up wasn't the easiest for me. It's really hard for me to talk about and reflect on as it brings back a thousand bad memories. But that being said, I was still a pretty normal kid. I liked Disney movies, playing in mud, begging my parents to death to take me to McDonald's everyday, dancing to Spice Girls, having a crush on Jonathan Taylor Thomas, collecting Beanie Babies, and making my Barbie and Ken doll kiss each other. My parents loved me and my brother a lot and pushed us to be the best people we could be in life. Furthermore, from a very early age, I was brought up in the church and the teaching of Jesus - That His love and mercy could surpass any brokenness or hurt I would ever encounter in life. My love and faith in Christ is a living testament as to why I am alive right now to even be able to write this blog. Though I am small and have many imperfections and flaws, God has created me in his perfect image and sees me as nothing but beautiful and that I can do all things possible through Him who strengthens me.
Growing up as a Christian WITH a mental illness has certainly had its challenges. While it makes testimony-telling night interesting, a lot of people are perplexed as to if I am really a Christian? Some people seem to think that IF I truly loved God and accepted and followed Him, that I would not suffer from mental illness. I have even talked to more "eccentric" (I'm being nice..) folk who have had reason to believe there is a demon summoned inside of me, causing all of my irrational thoughts about myself. While I do believe demon possession is a real thing, I also do have reason to believe that what I am suffering from is a medical condition. No, God did not intend for this to happen to me, any more than he intends kids with Spina Bifida to end up in wheelchairs or for people to be born blind and deaf. I did not choose to have a mental illness, but I can be strong and brave and get through life learning to COPE with it.
Learning to cope with a mental illness is like learning to play guitar and whistle at the same time while closing your eyes. I'm sure it can be done, but it takes a lot of practice. And a lot of times, you need a teacher. A very good teacher at that, and finding that teacher is difficult. Sometimes, when you are in desperate need of relieving the symptoms that a mental illness can cause, you tend to resort to doing irrational things. I can't speak for everyone, as everyone has different coping mechanisms, but for me, I used to control my emotions with food. When I hit the peak of my depression to the point at which I was feeling loss of control, I would stop eating or overeat. Subconsciously, if I couldn't control what was happening with my life and body, I would control what I put into it. I spent the bulk of my adolescence being very thin, and while I do have a fast metabolism to begin with, it was mostly due to me eating very, very little, sometimes only 200 or 300 calories in a day. In university, I developed the opposite problem. I would overeat in response to stress and how it made me feel. At 20 years old, I had gained almost 30 lbs in two months. I would very soon become aware of what I was doing to myself. I would then create a whole other cycle of depression and low-self esteem and try to reverse THAT problem by starving myself yet again to feel power, control and confidence.
Creating the optimal outer "core" is prime when you struggle with a mental illness. If you can convince yourself and the world that you look and feel fabulous, you start to believe that everything is a-ok, even if it's not. In university, I can honestly say I would not leave the house unless I was of Victoria Secret model quality. My hair and makeup was always done to perfection, in which I would spend hours on every single morning. I always had to have an outfit on that was of the latest trend and flattered my figure. I did what I did so that I would get attention, from everybody - girls and boys. I worked out constantly when I wasn't in school, studying, sleeping, or partying with my friends. Lots of boys wanted to date me. Lots of girls wanted to be my friend. I did it all to be happy. And for the longest time, I sincerely thought I was and could even forget what a mental illness was and that I even had one. I let my flawless image, countless acquaintances and good grades fool everyone. Including myself. I was constantly suffering from anxiety, fearful as to what people thought of me, and I did whatever I could so people would like and be attracted to me.
The thing which has been taking me all these years to try and figure out, is to be HONEST. To embrace who am I, love myself for it, and surround myself with people who will love me for me regardless if I'm in a joyious mood and looking like Barbie, or sad to the depths of despair where putting clean clothes on is a huge effort for me. It's easy to say, "Yeah, Hell yeah! I LOVE myself!" when things are going great and you are feeling great about it. But when times get tough, a person with a mental illness REALLY needs a support system who are going to be there for when that person crashes and to help pull themself together again.
The thing is about people with mental illnesses is that we AREN'T crazy. We have the capability to love and be your friend and want to have fun in life just as much as the next person. We just sometimes need a little support and help. Just like a kid in a wheelchair needs help getting up a wheelchair ramp, people with mental illnesses sometimes need a bit of help getting out of an emotional rut just through love, care and support. I know half of you don't even know what it means to have a mental illness or to even begin to know how to help someone with a mental illness. But what people NEED to understand is that we don't expect you to have the ANSWERS we are looking for on our pursuit of happiness. We just want you to hold our hand on the way while we try to get there.
I hope you all have a great day.
I dedicate this journal entry to all my friends and family who have loved me and taken it upon themselves to go on this journey with me of pursuing happiness. :)
My psychologist told me that a way in which I can find deep, fulfilling healing is just by being honest with myself and those around me.
So, I'll start from the beginning...
Hi, my name is Eve. Well, it's not my real name but for the sake of confidentiality, we'll go with that. I'm a pretty nice gal and for the most part, I do really enjoy life, but I'll let you in on a little secret. I've been pretty sick. For a long time actually, only now I'm really been coming to grips with it. I've been suffering with this little bug for years and years and years. Basically, since I was 16. Most times, I hide this bug under my bed and it stays there and just goes to sleep. Sometimes for months, sometimes for weeks. But eventually, the dark day always comes when life's burdens get in the way and that is when the bug regains it power and awakens. That bug's name is Depression Anxiety Eating-Disorder. Mainly the bug just goes by Depression, as that is what it's mostly known for. But when days are particularly grey - similar to when you've done something really, really bad as a kid and your mom calls you by your FULL name when she wants to give you a "talking to" - yeah, Depression then becomes Depression Anxiety Eating-Disorder. For short, D.A.E.D. If you spell that backwards, it becomes DEAD, a place in which I am completely powerless, completely vulnerable, and completely broken.
Like I actually have become DEAD inside.
For years, I have spent countless hours in the offices of psychiatrists, psychologists, counsellors, social workers, doctors, and guidance counsellors. Blue Cross (Thank you Jesus for insurance and free health care) has paid hundreds to thousands of dollars in anti-depressants, mood stabilizers, hormone balancers, and anxiolytics. I have tried every alternative therapy I have ever heard of - massage, mediation, prayer, reiki, healing touch, reflexology, music therapy, art therapy, and even pet therapy. I have tried all the holistic approaches for coping such as surrounding myself with positive people, attending a church, volunteering, finding hobbies I enjoy in my spare time, exercising, eating healthy, taking vitamins and getting proper sleep every night. I do not smoke cigarettes or marijuana, snort cocaine, take ecstasy, try acid, experiment with mushrooms, get high on MDMA, get roofied, or smoke crack. I have never been a prostitute and I do not engage in promiscuous activity. I don't have a baby daddy or a baby. I'm not on welfare. I am heterosexual. I do not have any STI's. I am not suffering from a terminal or chronic physical illness. I am not handicapped. I do not have a learning disability. I was not born out of wedlock. I am not overweight. I am not underweight. I am not rich. I am not famous. I am NORMAL and I suffer with a MENTAL ILLNESS.
Research states that it's hard to know and pinpoint just exactly how one develops a mental illness. Some say genetics, some say it's the environment you grow up in, and some say both.
For me, it's definitely a combination of both. I never met my paternal grandfather, but my paternal grandmother did suffer from a bipolar disorder. Now while a bipolar disorder is very different to depression in its manifestations, the brain changes which takes place are quite similar. Without going all science-geek on you, bipolar disorder and depression are very similar in the way there is disfunction with the neurotransmitters in the brain, in particular, serotonin and norepinephrine. Basically, all a neurotransmitter is, is a brain chemical which communicates between the brain and the body. It is what is responsible for giving us emotion and feeling. The body becomes aware of the stimuli around it, determines if it's negative or positive, and the brain gives you an emotion to react in response to that stimuli accordingly. When there is disconnect or abnormal levels of these neurotransmitters (either too high or too low), this is how many mood disorders can commence.
While I definitely have the genetic factor already predisposing me to having a mental illness, I can admit that growing up wasn't the easiest for me. It's really hard for me to talk about and reflect on as it brings back a thousand bad memories. But that being said, I was still a pretty normal kid. I liked Disney movies, playing in mud, begging my parents to death to take me to McDonald's everyday, dancing to Spice Girls, having a crush on Jonathan Taylor Thomas, collecting Beanie Babies, and making my Barbie and Ken doll kiss each other. My parents loved me and my brother a lot and pushed us to be the best people we could be in life. Furthermore, from a very early age, I was brought up in the church and the teaching of Jesus - That His love and mercy could surpass any brokenness or hurt I would ever encounter in life. My love and faith in Christ is a living testament as to why I am alive right now to even be able to write this blog. Though I am small and have many imperfections and flaws, God has created me in his perfect image and sees me as nothing but beautiful and that I can do all things possible through Him who strengthens me.
Growing up as a Christian WITH a mental illness has certainly had its challenges. While it makes testimony-telling night interesting, a lot of people are perplexed as to if I am really a Christian? Some people seem to think that IF I truly loved God and accepted and followed Him, that I would not suffer from mental illness. I have even talked to more "eccentric" (I'm being nice..) folk who have had reason to believe there is a demon summoned inside of me, causing all of my irrational thoughts about myself. While I do believe demon possession is a real thing, I also do have reason to believe that what I am suffering from is a medical condition. No, God did not intend for this to happen to me, any more than he intends kids with Spina Bifida to end up in wheelchairs or for people to be born blind and deaf. I did not choose to have a mental illness, but I can be strong and brave and get through life learning to COPE with it.
Learning to cope with a mental illness is like learning to play guitar and whistle at the same time while closing your eyes. I'm sure it can be done, but it takes a lot of practice. And a lot of times, you need a teacher. A very good teacher at that, and finding that teacher is difficult. Sometimes, when you are in desperate need of relieving the symptoms that a mental illness can cause, you tend to resort to doing irrational things. I can't speak for everyone, as everyone has different coping mechanisms, but for me, I used to control my emotions with food. When I hit the peak of my depression to the point at which I was feeling loss of control, I would stop eating or overeat. Subconsciously, if I couldn't control what was happening with my life and body, I would control what I put into it. I spent the bulk of my adolescence being very thin, and while I do have a fast metabolism to begin with, it was mostly due to me eating very, very little, sometimes only 200 or 300 calories in a day. In university, I developed the opposite problem. I would overeat in response to stress and how it made me feel. At 20 years old, I had gained almost 30 lbs in two months. I would very soon become aware of what I was doing to myself. I would then create a whole other cycle of depression and low-self esteem and try to reverse THAT problem by starving myself yet again to feel power, control and confidence.
Creating the optimal outer "core" is prime when you struggle with a mental illness. If you can convince yourself and the world that you look and feel fabulous, you start to believe that everything is a-ok, even if it's not. In university, I can honestly say I would not leave the house unless I was of Victoria Secret model quality. My hair and makeup was always done to perfection, in which I would spend hours on every single morning. I always had to have an outfit on that was of the latest trend and flattered my figure. I did what I did so that I would get attention, from everybody - girls and boys. I worked out constantly when I wasn't in school, studying, sleeping, or partying with my friends. Lots of boys wanted to date me. Lots of girls wanted to be my friend. I did it all to be happy. And for the longest time, I sincerely thought I was and could even forget what a mental illness was and that I even had one. I let my flawless image, countless acquaintances and good grades fool everyone. Including myself. I was constantly suffering from anxiety, fearful as to what people thought of me, and I did whatever I could so people would like and be attracted to me.
The thing which has been taking me all these years to try and figure out, is to be HONEST. To embrace who am I, love myself for it, and surround myself with people who will love me for me regardless if I'm in a joyious mood and looking like Barbie, or sad to the depths of despair where putting clean clothes on is a huge effort for me. It's easy to say, "Yeah, Hell yeah! I LOVE myself!" when things are going great and you are feeling great about it. But when times get tough, a person with a mental illness REALLY needs a support system who are going to be there for when that person crashes and to help pull themself together again.
The thing is about people with mental illnesses is that we AREN'T crazy. We have the capability to love and be your friend and want to have fun in life just as much as the next person. We just sometimes need a little support and help. Just like a kid in a wheelchair needs help getting up a wheelchair ramp, people with mental illnesses sometimes need a bit of help getting out of an emotional rut just through love, care and support. I know half of you don't even know what it means to have a mental illness or to even begin to know how to help someone with a mental illness. But what people NEED to understand is that we don't expect you to have the ANSWERS we are looking for on our pursuit of happiness. We just want you to hold our hand on the way while we try to get there.
I hope you all have a great day.
I dedicate this journal entry to all my friends and family who have loved me and taken it upon themselves to go on this journey with me of pursuing happiness. :)
