On being mentally ill
I am mentally ill. I'm functional and what not, but I am indeed in need of some fixin'.
My illness is depression. Not just blues/funky/self pity, though those do rear their heads on occasion. I mean fundamental, deeply dark, regularly suicidal depression. It's often misunderstood, mostly by me.
I've tried to pass it off as everything but what it is. I've blamed my status as sinner, I've blamed it on my family situation, I've blamed everything to avoid dealing with the fact that there is something chemically askew. I'm still not sure what that fear was about and I think my lack of knowledge is due to the fact that I'm not ready to admit the reasons to myself. I'm not digging very deep for the answers. Heck-mo, I can't even tell my family or friends. The only people I can talk to about it are strangers.
I was a 19 on the severity scale when I dissolved into a bucket of tears with the doctor. 11 and above is considered severe/acute. As my g-m said, I might have waited a bit too long to get help.
I'm now around a 5 or 6 on the same scale after three months of medication and two months of group. Julia has given a really useful variety of tools I can use after the class is over. The women there might or might not wind up in a support group - I'd be interested in being a part of it but won't bend too much if scheduling conflicts arise.
I have support from my g-m, Fr. James, and the other very few people who know. I am gaining ground on developing health. I know my limits with certain things, I know what I cannot handle and I know what I need to embrace.
I know this will never go completely away but I also know that it doesn't have to win. But I won't be in control if I can't acknowledge it. So now I've announced it to the world without having told anyone. *click*
when you're lost and alone, that's when the rainbow comes
My illness is depression. Not just blues/funky/self pity, though those do rear their heads on occasion. I mean fundamental, deeply dark, regularly suicidal depression. It's often misunderstood, mostly by me.
I've tried to pass it off as everything but what it is. I've blamed my status as sinner, I've blamed it on my family situation, I've blamed everything to avoid dealing with the fact that there is something chemically askew. I'm still not sure what that fear was about and I think my lack of knowledge is due to the fact that I'm not ready to admit the reasons to myself. I'm not digging very deep for the answers. Heck-mo, I can't even tell my family or friends. The only people I can talk to about it are strangers.
I was a 19 on the severity scale when I dissolved into a bucket of tears with the doctor. 11 and above is considered severe/acute. As my g-m said, I might have waited a bit too long to get help.
I'm now around a 5 or 6 on the same scale after three months of medication and two months of group. Julia has given a really useful variety of tools I can use after the class is over. The women there might or might not wind up in a support group - I'd be interested in being a part of it but won't bend too much if scheduling conflicts arise.
I have support from my g-m, Fr. James, and the other very few people who know. I am gaining ground on developing health. I know my limits with certain things, I know what I cannot handle and I know what I need to embrace.
I know this will never go completely away but I also know that it doesn't have to win. But I won't be in control if I can't acknowledge it. So now I've announced it to the world without having told anyone. *click*
when you're lost and alone, that's when the rainbow comes
posted by chickie at 3:13 PM
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