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Under Construction (again)

Posted by breakyostigma on

Recovery 2.0

You know the bipolar type – somewhat grandiose-level ideas, creativity on point, and disruption to the max?  Well, the caveat to that abundance of grandiosity is a complete lack of execution or follow through – and ultimately, crash and burn.

During Recovery 1.0, I tried to do way too much.  Start a non-profit, apply for research grants, change the mental health game.  I ultimately crashed, which has been the theme of most of my adult life and for many of my peers living with mental illness.

Blog

The Five Stages of a Mental Illness Diagnosis

Posted by breakyostigma on

How we come to terms with the process

You’re finally able to book an appointment to see the shrink and anxiously sit in her office filled with worries as she listens to the symptoms you’ve been struggling with.  Is it being overstressed?  Please, oh please, let just it be stress.  I promise I’ll take my breaks at work and hit my 10k steps every single day on my Fitbit to relieve whatever I’m going through.  What about my diet?  No more double-doubles and animal fries at In & Out, I swear.  Just don’t let it be that.  Never, ever that.

And then she hits you with the news you’ve been praying to avoid: “You have a mental illness and I’m going to prescribe you these medications.”

Game over. It’s that.

Blog

From the Edge of Death

Posted by breakyostigma on

Discovering a path to wellness after tragedy

My eyes were heavy as I slowly began to open them. The burning sensation got stronger and stronger, but I had no idea where it was coming from. Was this hell? I must be in hell. Nothing could be as painful as this besides hanging out with Lucifer in his crib knowing you got rejected at the pearly white gates.

But I wasn’t in hell and I definitely didn’t have VIP access to God. That burn was actually the nurse pulling the catheter out downstairs. It wasn’t a swift pull either, but methodically slow as if she took pleasure in punishing her patients like Hannibal and his victims. I was wide-awake now (thanks nurse masochist) and began to notice my surroundings. Drab, dull, and dreary – the tell-tale signs of a hospital. How I got there, I had no idea.