Sometimes Mental Illness Really Just Bites

So I've been rapid-cycling here lately, ranging from near-suicidally depressed to so manic I can't sleep for--fuck, I don't know, over a day and a half, anyway.

Most of my posts about mental illness so far have been about the stigma, but right now I feel the need to address my illness itself.

I have schizoaffective disorder (bipolar subtype, and apparently rapid-cycling now), which means that without medications I hallucinate and become delusional (usually paranoid), and that my moods are all over the gorram map. Even with medications my moods are all over the map, as I am taking my meds as prescribed and STILL rapid-cycling.

I'm sincerely hoping I don't have to be inpatient again, because it's a pain in the ass. You have to eat and sleep (and smoke--shame on me) on someone else's schedule, which bugs the crap out of me. I don't mind keeping a schedule, but let me set it and let me be in charge of it as if I were an intelligent adult, which, despite my illness, I like to think I am.

I've let myself get off my schedule at home because I got sick with what transpired to be the allergy attack from hell, and maybe that's why everything went all pear-shaped on me here lately.

But earlier this week, I was struggling with the desire to harm myself, feeling that I was worthless and useless and deserved to be punished. Earlier today in a burst of weird optimism, I was job-hunting, knowing full well that I can't work.

This bouncing back and forth all over the emotional continuum is tiring. I'm so tired right now I can hardly see straight. The only part of me that's not tired is my brain which simply will not SHUT UP and let me sleep.

This is what I live with. This is my life right now, and I know I'm not the only one who lives with mood swings, sleeplessness, depression, self-injury urges, suicidal thoughts, etc. People who live with mental illness(es) have to put up with a form of hell no one but the cruelest would wish upon zir worst enemy.

And then, on top of all that, there's the stigma. The labels. The way people treat you like you're stupid, or too fragile to handle [insert whatever here], or like you might snap at any moment and start hurting people. The friends who don't know what to say or do when you finally get the guts up to tell them about your illness. The family who think you might hurt them, when you know damn good and well that you'd never do such a thing.

The illness is enough to fight sometimes, but I feel called to fight the stigma too. I feel like I have to be open about my illness and be articulate enough to show the world that crazy does not equal stupid, or violent, or any of the other nine zillion things that the general public seems to think apply to people with mental illness(es).

Right now, all I can fight is the illness. But I'll promise you this. I'll be back when I can, to fight the stigma too. I have to. To paraphrase from Maud (a commenter at Shakesville), if I don't speak up, I may not change anyone, but if I let the world silence me, I've let the world change me. I'm willing to change, but I'm not willing to be silenced. I have a voice. I have been privileged enough to receive a liberal arts education and typing skills and internet access to create this little corner of the 'Web, and I am damn sure going to use it.

Missing and Murdered Children

[Strong Trigger Warning for murder of young children]

This is a local news page about something horrible that happened in my area last month. A little girl disappeared walking home from school; her dead body was found a week later in a landfill just across the state line. She was seven years old, and it is a horrible tragedy for her and her family that some subhuman decided to kidnap and kill her and leave her like trash on a landfill. No child deserves that.

She was also white and cute, so her horrible tragedy made news. I think it even made national news, but I know for a fact it was BIG NEWS here locally.

Now there's an organization called Justice for Somer, trying to find her killer and bring zie to justice.

What I want to know is where is the outcry when a little kid whose skin is brown of some shade disappears and zir dead body is found somewhere? Where's the justice for them? Do we, as a nation, think that black, Latin@, Asian, Native American/First Nations, mixed race, otherwise non-white kids are less valuable? Do we think it's less tragic when they are kidnapped and murdered than it was for Somer? Do we think their families grieve any less?

I'd love to live in a world where child predators didn't exist, but the truth is, we live in a world where some very horrible individuals enjoy harming children. And it doesn't just happen to cute white kids.

Where is the justice for all children?

Explanations and Such

Okay, it's early in October and I said I'd be back, so here I am.

However, I will probably not be posting much for at least the next month or so. Suffice it to say the house move is not completed yet, and life has gone a bit pear-shaped in a lot of ways.

I spent 21-30 September as an inpatient in a behavioral health center, because my anxiety and hallucinations had just gotten to be more than I could handle. I am now in intensive outpatient treatment, which will continue at least through the rest of October but could go longer than that, so I will not have much time to blog here.

In any case, I still care deeply about the issues of human equality that led me to start this blog in the first place; I just need to take some time to take care of myself before I can raise my pen (or tap my keyboard) in defense of others.

Bright blessing attend you!

Brief Hiatus

I know I haven't been posting here very regularly or consistently, but I've posted a good bit in the last month or so. I just wanted to let anyone who reads Human Equality know that I am going to move house in the next couple of weeks, and will therefore be very busy with tasks which will keep me from the computer.

I have submitted "Crazy Does Not Equal Stupid" to Shakesville, but I haven't decided which mental illness stereotype I'm going to address next, so there may not be another post in that series until inspiration strikes.

I will probably also revise "How to React When Someone You Know Tells You Zie Has a Mental Illness" because I am planning to ask some other people for input on that topic, because I am well aware that my viewpoint is not the only one out there, and that things that do not occur to me often occur to other people, some of whom are kind enough to share said thoughts with me.

Once I get my residential situation sorted out, I will try to post more regularly, but I can be a fairly erratic person anyway, so no promises on that count.

Bright blessing attend you, and I'll be back soon, probably early in October.

OMG WIN!!!!

I almost can't believe this exists, being a post by a Presbyterian pastor in favor of universal health care in which the main thesis is that allowing people to be sick and die because they have no money to pay for doctors or hospitals or medical whatever is immoral and--get this--un-Christian!

DesertRose, member of Pagans, Heathens, and Otherwise Who Really Wish Soi-Disant Christians Would Actually Follow the Teachings Ascribed to Jesus of Nazareth, truly amazed because a Christian in a position of leadership is actually being Christ-like.

How to React if Someone You Know Tells You Zie Has a Mental Illness

There is a website called What A Difference that has a lot of good information about this very topic. I’ve seen the advertisements on TV and the site says they’ve also made ads for radio, although I personally haven’t heard any. But a lot of people haven’t seen or heard the ads or discovered the website. So here, as concisely as I can, I’m going to enumerate, from the point of view of a person with mental illness, how to behave if someone you know tells you zie has a mental illness.

First off, because of the way society at large views people with mental illnesses, zie has probably spent a lot of time considering whether to tell you about zir diagnosis. Zie may be afraid that you will drop zie as a friend or, if zie is a family member, refuse to see zie or refuse to allow zie near the children or something like that. So remember that it takes a lot of courage and trust for a person with a mental illness (or several mental illnesses) to come to you in the first place and tell you about zir diagnosis. Chances are, you’ve known zie for a while now, or else zie wouldn’t trust you enough to tell you.

Secondly, given that you and zie have probably known one another for a while, zie has probably known about zir diagnosis or diagnoses for some time and has probably been experiencing symptoms before diagnosis (if zie didn’t have any symptoms, why would zie see a mental health care provider to get a diagnosis in the first place?). So zie has been a person with mental illness for a while now, and zie has been your friend, relative, coworker, classmate, or what-have-you all this time; are you going to treat zie differently just because you know something about zie that you didn’t know before? If zie told you something else about zirself that did not indicate zie was involved in any sort of criminal or exploitative activity, like zie collects seashells of the exact color of the complexion of zir first sexual partner (just for something admittedly a mite unusual that nonetheless means nothing harmful), would that change whether zie is a good friend (or loving relative, or competent coworker or interesting classmate or what-have-you)? Whatever drew you and zie together has not changed because zie has told you zie has a mental illness. Zie is still the same person you’ve known and cared about for however long you’ve known and cared about each other.

Third, please do not broadcast zir diagnosis to everybody you both know. Having a mental illness is really not a good cause for feeling ashamed, since having a mental illness does not mean someone is violent, stupid, weak-willed, or a bad person, simply that zie has a medical condition over which zie has little if any control, just as if zie had diabetes, or epilepsy, or an allergy to peanuts. However, the world at large tends to treat people with mental illnesses as if the state of having a mental illness somehow makes someone a bad person, and thus, a lot of people with mental illnesses are hesitant to let it be known that they have a mental illness (or more than one). Let zie choose whom zie wishes to tell about zir diagnosis.

Last, and most important, just be there for zie. Be zir friend, or relative, or coworker, or classmate, or what-have-you. Have lunch together. Talk on the phone. Text zie. Keep zie on your Facebook friends list. Just be there. Accept zie for who zie is. I cannot stress enough how important it is for people with mental illnesses to have people in their lives who care about them and support them by just being there.

Your friend (or relative or coworker or classmate or what-have-you) is still your friend (or whatever zie has always been to you). Don’t treat zie any differently because zie has had the courage to trust you with zir diagnosis.

Crazy Does Not Equal Stupid

Part Two of Crazy Does Not Equal...

Full Disclosure: I have schizoaffective disorder and post-traumatic stress disorder. I have suffered from one form or another of mental illness for most of my life, mostly depression in one form or another, anxiety, and various manifestations of PTSD. I am 33 years old, a ciswoman, white and Cherokee, divorced, mother of one completely awesome daughter, owned by two adorable tabby cats, bisexual with polyamorous tendencies, a proud bleeding-heart liberal, an eclectic pagan, and completely out of my tree.

I've always been hesitant to be open with people about my mental condition. Mental illness is still HUGELY stigmatized, and I don't want to be treated as if I'm somehow less than other people because my brain and mind are funky. But I've come to the realization that mental illness will remain stigmatized unless people with mental illnesses are open about their conditions and show the world that we're not what society would have the world believe.

People with mental illnesses are often stereotyped as violent, or, in contrast, figures of fun, to be mocked for “abnormal” behaviors. And if we're not to be feared or made fun of, we're childish and incapable of making our own decisions. Failing that, we're weak-willed or of poor character, often therefore leading to the conclusion that we're responsible for our conditions and could be “normal” if we'd just decide to be. On top of all that, we're often considered lacking in intelligence, which can be part and parcel of the “childish and incapable of making our own decisions” or “weak-willed or of poor character” tropes.

In this post I’m going to address the stereotype that people with mental illnesses lack intelligence or are otherwise incapable of thinking for ourselves or making our own decisions. (Yes, I know, I’m not addressing these tropes in the order listed above. I’m dealing with each stereotype as I damn well feel like it.) I’m going to get pretty personal on this one, because this stereotype is my single most hated of all.

If you ask people with mental illnesses who have received treatment, be it psychiatric (medications, hospitalization, etc.) or psychological (counseling, support groups, etc.), many of them will tell you that psychiatric and psychological health care providers can be horribly condescending. Many are not, and many providers who begin their relationships with patients with that condescending attitude can be brought up short by a patient either refusing to tolerate the condescension and/or showing the provider that, as a matter of fact, people with mental illnesses can be and often are intelligent people. Some providers, no matter what anyone does, are just asshats. Some people are just asshats, and that seems to apply across all lines we draw and all categories into which we place ourselves.

The title of this post and this series of posts actually comes from something I said one time. At the time I was attending a support group for people with affective (mood) disorders. The support group leader had asked permission to allow a few nursing students who were considering specializing in psychiatric nursing to sit it on a group meeting. We did our usual group stuff, and then the leader asked around the room if any of us had any tips for these students. I looked the students in the eyes individually and then said, “Crazy does not equal stupid. PLEASE do not treat your patients like they’re idiots just because you’re seeing them in a psychiatric clinical setting.” Damn near everyone else in the group (all adults with histories of dealing with psychiatric and psychological health care providers) agreed almost immediately.

I guess this particular stereotype irks me so badly because I am intelligent, in fact outright nerdy, and I REALLY hate being treated as if I’m stupid when I know bloody fucking well I’m far from it. I have a high school diploma and a Bachelor of Arts degree in English with a minor in psychology; I was an honor student for most of my academic career. In addition to English I can also speak, read, and write Spanish, and read and write French and Latin. This is definitely anecdata, but I’ve known a lot of people with mental illnesses, and if I’ve met as many smart crazy people as I have, I’m fairly confident that stupidity is not rampant among the population of people with mental illnesses. The films “A Beautiful Mind” and “Shine” seem to have helped with this stereotype a little, as they both depicted people with severe mental illnesses who were highly intelligent and/or highly talented. But there are plenty of people out there, some of them in the mental health care professions, who still believe that mental illnesses render people incapable of logical thought, intelligence, or thinking for themselves.

I’ve been hospitalized for psychiatric reasons on quite a few occasions. One time, I had to go to the county facility because I was severely suicidal, but I had no medical insurance and was too ill to work and was still fighting Social Security for my disability benefits. Having been hospitalized for psychiatric reasons before, in private hospitals covered by medical insurance I had at the time, I packed a couple of changes of clothing, my personal toiletries (soap, shampoo, deodorant, tampons and pads, comb, toothbrush, a few other things like that), and a couple of books to read because I almost never go anywhere without something to read (I think it’s an English major thing). Silly me.

When I entered the facility, my purse and the tote bag in which I had packed my clothes, books, and toiletries were both confiscated from me, which in and of itself did not particularly surprise me, but I thought that they were just going to lock my purse in a safe (usual procedure with patient valuables in any hospital) and search my tote bag to make sure there wasn’t anything in there I could use to hurt myself or someone else or any illegal drugs or whatnot like that. No. They took my tote bag, gave me my housecoat, a change of trousers, two paperback books, and put me on the ward, keeping the rest of my belongings locked up at the security desk. No change of underwear, no toiletries. I asked the next day if I could please have an actual shirt, clean underwear, and my toiletries so that I could, oh, I don’t know, take a shower. I was told that somebody would do it and bring my stuff to me but nobody had time to do it right then. Okay, fine. I went into my room and read. Several hours later, I asked again if I could please have a shirt, clean underwear, and my toiletries so that I could shower. Again, I was told nobody had time to do it right then but somebody would and they would bring me my stuff then. The next day, I asked again. Third verse, same as the first. Later in the day, FOURTH verse, same as the first. I went to bed for the second night in a row without being able to shower or brush my teeth or comb my hair, and still wearing the same shirt, bra, underpants, and trousers I’d worn when I’d checked in two days previously.

The next day, my period started, which I had been expecting, as you might have guessed by my decision to pack tampons and pads. I asked, yet again, if I could PLEASE have clean clothes and my toiletries so that I could shower. Can you guess what they told me? At that point, I lost my temper completely, screaming that I’d been asking for something as simple as MY OWN CLEAN CLOTHES and MY OWN TOILETRIES so that I could take a fucking shower on multiple occasions for TWO FUCKING DAYS. Various employees tried to tell me to calm down and be reasonable. I screamed that I’d been reasonable and calm for the last two days and it wasn’t fucking working and that it shouldn’t be this much trouble to get a fucking shower. I then screamed that my period had started and I’d like to bathe or at the very least not bleed all over everything. They gave me a pad from behind the nurse’s station, of a cheap brand that irritated my vulva and upper inner thighs (I have sensitive skin, and nowhere is my skin more sensitive than in the lady bits). When I was finally discharged, I told my then-boyfriend (who had insisted I be hospitalized because I was suicidal) that I’d seriously rather commit suicide than be there again.

This experience was probably an intersection of prejudice against people with mental illnesses and against people with no medical coverage and no money, because never before had I been treated that way by mental health professionals. Apparently, people with mental illnesses who have no medical coverage and/or money don't deserve to have their own clothing nor use their own toiletries whilst hospitalized for psychiatric reasons, and, should they dare to request their own clothing and toiletries, they are being unreasonable, because no person with a mental illness could possibly be so reasonable as to want soap, shampoo, and deodorant to take a shower and clean clothing to wear after showering.

After that, I found out about a program at a local private hospital called Charity Care, which helps pay or entirely pays hospital bills for people who need hospitalization (not just for psychiatric reasons, anything really) but have no coverage and/or no way to pay. Thereafter, I went to that hospital, and was treated like a human being who just needed some help.

The private hospitals aren’t perfect either. I’ve seen plenty of psychiatric nurses and nursing assistants who seem surprised when psychiatric patients show intelligence or critical thinking skills or anything that might make you think, “Holy shit, this person is smart (or at least not stupid).” I’ve known plenty of psychiatrists, psychiatric nurse practitioners, clinical psychologists, and counselors of various stripes to do the same, and, although the “Wow, she’s intelligent and articulate” reaction of surprise and the usual subsequent change in behavior is annoying, it’s better than continued condescension.

It seems like the general public also tends to think that people with mental illnesses are lacking intelligence or the capability to think for themselves. Honestly, there are times when the latter is true, even of me. I’ve had several episodes of psychotic behavior during which I wasn’t capable of thinking for myself or making decisions for myself. However, for the great majority of my time, even though I experience psychotic symptoms on a more-or-less daily basis, I am perfectly capable of driving a car (even a stick shift), cooking meals, shopping for groceries, reading and comprehending what I’ve read, writing coherent (and often complex) sentences (betcha hadn’t noticed that), carrying on an intelligent conversation, and otherwise not being an idiot. I’m not an idiot, and I’m not the only person with mental illness who isn’t an idiot. Please don’t treat people with mental illnesses like they lack intelligence; chances are, they don’t.

Or, to quote the Roman Stoic philosopher Seneca, “Nullum magnum ingenium sine mixtura dementiae fuit,” which translates as “There has never been any great [talent or genius, the word can be translated either way] without an element of madness.”