Coopting Mental Illness

Betcha there's 12 of those things looking at me right now. Looking- and judging.

You hear people coopt mental illness, or at least the terminology, all the time. (At least in English. I have no idea if this happens in other languages.) It's a little odd considering how we treat the actually mentally ill, but every person having a bad day is depressed, everyone acting differently than we would is insane and any person who changes their mind is schizophrenic. And everyone, absolutely everyone, has a phobia these days.

As a person who has an actual phobia*, I find this a teensy bit frustrating. For example, the Pioneer Woman, whom I find inordinately annoying, is always going on about her agoraphobia. Yes, because people with actual agoraphobia frequently get on planes on attend book signings. That is what agoraphobia is all about.

Um, no.

Here is an actual phobia. I'm at work. I look over and see a small yellowish spider crawling across my desk. I shriek and leap backwards which causes my chair to flip over, depositing me head first and ass up onto the floor- in a skirt, in front of the entire office, all of whom have totally seen this before and all say, "Oh, spider?" I then rush into my boss' office, interrupting a conference call with a Judge to demand that someone kill the spider on my desk before it crawls somewhere IWON'TKNOWHEREITIS!

That's a phobia. Phobias are completely irrational and cause irrational, bizarre behavior.

I have a friend who is as afraid of spiders as I am, if not more. Mind you, if I go into the garage, after I get out I require the Spider Protocol(tm), wherein someone has to search my hair and back for hidden spiders. I know they're just waiting for a chance to crawl all over me. Just waiting. They've got time.

Anyway, my friend is driving when a spider drops down on a web from the driver's side visor. He, without thinking, leaps into the passenger seat and opens the door. Mind you, he was going 45mph around a turn at the time. Fortunately, the car hit a tree before he could exit at 45mph. As he's sitting there dazed (he was fine), a cop, who viewed the accident, runs up the car and says, "Where'd the driver go?" My friend says that he was the driver. Before the cop can question how he ended up in the passenger's seat, my friend remembers the spider, screams and leaps out of the car.

Yeah, not a good move in front of a cop.

That's a phobia. No one could view what happened there as rational or reasonable, unless you have arachnophobia, in which case that is totally reasonable behavior. Yeah, it's the spider's car now. Just let it go, man. There will be other cars. I've ceded entire rooms to spiders before. I'm not arguing with those things.

So, yeah, mental illness. Stop coopting it.

*Nobody ever lays claim to anxiety disorders. I have no idea why not.

The Anxiety Went Up to 11*

So, yeah, I'm a great big hypocrite. Okay, being kind to myself, it's easier to see things in other people than in yourself.

Hi, I'm Faith, and I have Generalized Anxiety Disorder.

Hi, I'm Faith and I have a mental illness.

Hi, I'm Faith and I actually decided to start treatment for mental illness, something I recommend to anyone and everyone, after years of totally toughing it out for no apparent reason. Hey, you! Go to a therapist, you'll feel great! What, me? No, no, I got this.

Generalized Anxiety Disorder:

I don't know what it feels like for other people, but I can tell you that for me, it was very hard to recognize that I have a medical condition involving anxiety. Mostly because being poor tends to lead to anxiety. Being chronically ill tends to lead to anxiety. Working with a fucking maniac tends to lead to anxiety. And, I grew up with an unmedicated rapid cycling bipolar with narcissistic personality disorder. I've always been a bit anxious.

So, when people started to notice that I was anxious, cranky and withdrawing into myself, I had excuses. Of course I'm cranky, I never sleep. Of course I never sleep, I'm in pain. (And that is part of it, don't get me wrong.) Of course I'm anxious, I always need $100 worth of stuff and I never have an extra $5. It's totally reasonable to spend hours obsessing over the health of your 67 year old mother. Sure, she was fine the last time you saw her, but what if she goes blind? What if I go blind? What if I go deaf? What if I can't work anymore? Am I being offensive to blind and deaf people by fearing this? Am I prejudiced against the disabled? I am an awful person.

Of course I have to worry about appliances breaking, I can't afford to fix them. What if the oven breaks? We won't be able to prepare food. I'm on a special diet. I can't just eat anything. Of course I have to sit up at night and worry about money, I don't have any. No, I don't want to go to a party, I'm tired, I have a headache, I'm in a bad mood. Now everyone's going to hate me because I didn't go to the party. Now I can never go to parties again because then they'll think I hated the first person because I skipped their party.

No, I cannot relax for 5 seconds. I just can't. Seriously, could you relax if the above were the inside of your head- all the damn time?

The truth was, I couldn't relax. Ever. I was too wired up to eat and losing weight. I was too wrapped up in my worries to enjoy anything, not my dog, not my nieces, not video games, nothing. I couldn't read anything for more than a minute or two, my attention was fracturing and my short term memory was a total loss. I wasn't sleeping more than 3 or 4 hours a night. Online, I was okay, but in real life even familiar people were making me nervous.

Sleeping, or rather, trying to sleep, was such a torturous event that I considered trying to sleep on the floor because looking at my bed was making me physically cringe.

Yeah, at that point, you can't deny you have a problem.

Lyrica Reappears as the Hero of My Story

Remember Lyrica? That failed anti seizure medication that Pfizer created to replace Neurontin? Yeah, and then Pfizer marketed Lyrica as a pain medication, gussied up some fake studies, sent out their salesmen in full force and made life very difficult for pain patients who just weren't getting any pain relief from the fake pain drug. Then there was a class action lawsuit and doctors stopped prescribing Lyrica for pai-- what? Oh, that's right, no they didn't. I get prescribed Lyrica for pain every time I see my doctor. It's hilarious. I have a prescription right now for a year's supply, and at least 20 free sample bottles.

Anyway, I always remember Lyrica fondly. I couldn't figure out why. It didn't do shit for my pain and I wasted hundreds of dollars on it. Yet my memory of it is very positive.

Last night, I spent an hour talking to a very nice psychologist. She determined that I have GAD and we talked about treatment. I like the idea of Cognitive Behavioral Therapy** and totally nixed the idea of drug treatment. She thought I was just opposed to psychiatric drugs, some people are, then I explained that I've tried them for pain and the results range from extreme mood swings to violence to suicidal ideation. She suggested benzos (valium, xanax), I explained my rather unique reaction to that. Um, serious, overt, can't-be-out-in-public sexuality. Yeah, I'm weird***.

Then she says that in Europe, Lyrica is a standard treatment for GAD and all of a sudden, I understood why I remember Lyrica fondly. It didn't do jack for my pain, but it did calm me down. So, fuck it, I opened a sample bottle and took a pill last night.

And slept. Sort of. My dreams were like Inception as written by jabbering monkeys on a meth bender. One hyperrealistic frantically frantic dream "waking up" into another. By morning, I was really confused about reality, really dizzy and fuzzy headed. Which is exactly why I wouldn't pay $90 a month for Lyrica in the first place.

Until 10:00 am, when I was still dizzy and fuzzy headed- and friendly. I was saying "hi" to people. I was engaging in conversation. I wasn't holding off on making copies until the copy room was empty. Which was freaky weird, let me tell you. Somebody asked me how I was doing, and I enthusiastically replied, "good!" and meant it. Dizzy, fuzzy headed, questioning reality and good.

Brain chemistry is a weird thing.

Anyway, we'll see. If these side effects last, I won't last on Lyrica. I'd really hate to choose between relative calm and friendliness and not being dizzy and fuzzy, though. This is kinda fun. Being friendly and all. Hey, I haven't even considered being homeless in at least 2 hours. Neat.

*I hang out with a music engineer/producer. "Up to 11" never gets old with that crowd.

**I've actually been doing it to myself to some degree. It's pretty intuitive to my way of thinking, and a short course of treatment is intuitive to my budget.

***Or, once you completely remove the anxiety, I'm hypersexual to the extreme. Yeah, I may want to hold on to some of the anxiety.

For the 9 Millionth Time, Correlation =/= Causation

Just the title of this threw up a few dozen red flags for me: Poll: Very Religious Americans Have Better Emotional Health.

First of all, it's a poll, not a study. Polls depend upon honesty, and if there's one thing people tend not to be honest about, it's mental illness. (Due to the intense shaming our society foists upon those with mental illness.) A study, on the other hand, would have questionnaires designed to catch people hiding or denying mental illness*. A poll is just a question, and if you know anything about fundamentalists, you know how they feel about mental illness. Fundamentalists view mental illness, even common illnesses like post partum depression, as a moral, and even worse, a spiritual failing. Therefore, the "very religious" are the least likely to admit to having depression.

So I find this to be a bit suspect:

Gallup's new report on Tuesday shows that 15.6 percent of American adults who say religion is an important part of daily life and who attend a church, synagogue or mosque at least every week or almost every week have been diagnosed with depression in their lifetime.

Meanwhile, 18.7 nonreligious Americans have been diagnosed. Among "moderately religious" adults, 20.4 percent reported having been diagnosed with depression.

Huh. If religion is the causative factor behind "better emotional health", then why are the nonreligious better off than the "moderately religious"?

Gallup noted in its report that the finding does not necessarily imply that the act of becoming religious will reduce or eliminate depression since Americans were asked whether they were diagnosed at any point in their life.

Still, the research group documents a significant relationship between high religiosity and lower levels of negative emotional wellbeing.

Do they document it with this poll? Because that's seriously suspect if so.

Though Gallup reported that it is possible that Americans who exhibit lower emotional negativity may just be more likely to choose to be religious, the research firm suggested, "The best explanation for the observed relationship between religion and more positive states of emotional health may be the most straightforward – that being religious in fact produces a salutary effect on one's mental health."

Really? That's the best explanation? How about the fact that being actively religious requires a great deal of socializing and going places and doing things- all activities that are difficult if not impossible for those with depression? That's ignoring the self reporting aspect of a poll, and we already have a different "most straightforward" explanation for the results. Heck, include the self reporting problems, and we have two different "most straightforward" explanations for the results- neither of which is dealt with here. Wait, I'm ignoring the general misunderstandings about depression in our culture, in which a bad day is mistaken for depression, so people self reporting depression in this poll may have simply been talking about an extended bad mood. I didn't even really think about this and I came up with three "most straightforward" explanations for the results.

Drawing possible reasons for the worse emotional health among the moderately religious Americans, the report stated, "The greater religious ambivalence found in this ... group could be a leading and lagging factor in their more negative emotional health, as these Americans may be less prone to commit to one belief system fully because of their higher rates of depression, stress, and worry."

So . . . it's religion if the results are good, it's the people themselves if the results are bad. Okay then.

Science: ur doin it rong.

*If you've never seen such a questionnaire, the same question will be asked repeatedly, but worded differently. If you are telling the truth, you'll answer the same way each time, but if you are lying, it's more difficult to parse repeatedly.

pic link

This Really Cannot Be Said Enough

(I won't link to the blog post that sparked this, but suffice it to say that yet another person finds mental illness shameful and doesn't want to seek treatment.)

When I first met my SIL, she had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder for several years and had been struggling with it for years before that. It took a long time to get the right medications in the right doses. She, in and of herself, was eye opening to me, in that she was the first person I'd ever met with a mental illness who discussed it as openly and unashamedly as one would discuss a physical illness*.

The same way I would say, without shame or reserve, that my hips are painful and stiff today, she would say that she found herself considering an affair during a manic state. The same way I would say that I couldn't keep up with housework, she would say that she demanded hospitalization because she couldn't appropriately mother her children.

That amazed me, and it shouldn't. It really cannot be said enough: illness is illness. You have no more control over your brain than you do over your pancreas or your bone marrow. So, unless you would be deeply ashamed of and not seek treatment for diabetes and leukemia, go to a doctor. If you are desperate and in constant agony, you need help. It doesn't matter whether that agony is . . . well, I was going to say in your body or in your brain, but pain is in your brain. Without my brain to react to it, my foot can't hurt.

Pain is pain, illness is illness and nobody needs to suffer. And nobody needs to be ashamed of falling ill. Diabetes is not evidence of weakness, kidney stones are not evidence of laziness, and obsessive compulsive disorder is not evidence of either. By the way, if you could wish yourself better, you'd have done that by now, so get to a doctor, okay?

*I'm using the distinction for conversational purposes, but really it drives me nuts. The brain is physical. Mental illnesses are the result of abnormalities in the functioning of the brain, and are therefore physical in nature. The distinction we make between mental and physical illness is meaningless and dangerous besides.

A Demon Called Schizophrenia

Are you schizophrenic? This man hates you. He also hates music. And gays. And Catholics. And atheists . . .

Ray Comfort has been writing an ongoing series on exorcism, specifically his exorcisms of people that were doubtless using drugs, experiencing seizures or mentally ill- without any effort to make sure these people visited medical professionals. (Who needs medical professionals when you've got Jesus?)

I've been ignoring this, though as a person who suffers from Simple Partial Seizures this series has enraged me to no end*. Please, please, please: if you or someone you love are experiencing any of the symptoms mentioned in Ray's posts, see a doctor. Right away. You or they could be in very big trouble and time may not be on your side. If you want to pray, pray. Just do it at the doctor's office, okay?

This passage, however, was the outside of enough:

Over the next few hours twelve spirits named themselves and came out of her. The first one to leave called itself "Joseph Smith." Jane apparently had contact with Mormonism, and had even been baptized by them. The other spirits named themselves as Mocking, Lying, Deceit, Schizophrenia, False Tongues, Music, Affliction, Soal, Marinda, Strength, and Lucifer (which I would think was a lying spirit). The two that had the greatest stronghold were Strength and Marinda. I commanded, "Marinda, what is your function -- what do you do?"

[emphasis mine]

Schizophrenia is not a demon. It is a disease. It is a disease that affects millions of people, people just like you and me. Those people are suffering from a disease exactly the same way a diabetic is suffering from a disease. Oddly enough, nobody ever feels ashamed to admit that their pancreas isn't working right, while schizophrenics are treated with fear and revulsion every day.

How dare you, Ray?

How fucking dare you?

*Because SPS can cause symptoms like abdominal pain and tachycardia, or just plain weird ass moods, it can be very difficult to get diagnosed. I suffered for a very long time and the treatment is simple: take some pills. They work great. I no longer have to deal with hallucinations. Why that took the better part of decade to work out, I don't know.

Not Responsible Enough

I was watching Real Life in the ER this weekend (I think that's the title of it), in which real ER doctors recount their most amazing, amusing, puzzling or just plain interesting stories. The story is reenacted by actors, but sprinkled throughout are interviews with the actual doctors. Mostly I watch it for the "how could anyone survive that?" element (a screwdriver through the skull, a tree branch from anus to diaphragm, etc.).

The episode I watched this weekend included the story of a mentally ill homeless woman who arrived in the ER, in the middle of a breech birth, completely denying that she was pregnant. The doctor, a resident at the time of the story, recounts how he delivered a breech baby with only basic textbook knowledge of how it's done. Then he starts to reflect on the miracle of life, the circumstances the child faced, and said this:

I mean, his mother wasn't even responsible enough to know she was pregnant.

Um, what? "Responsible" was really the word you were looking for, doc? "Responsible"? We're talking about a mentally ill homeless woman. Mentally ill. As in sick. As in, that woman with food poisoning wasn't responsible enough not to throw up. That diabetic isn't responsible enough to produce insulin.

Responsible was not the word that doctor- doctor!- should have been looking for, but I bet that's exactly what he meant.

I encounter this attitude all the damn time. "Ugh. Why do I always have to help you open jars and carry things? It's so annoying." Because I'm not strong enough to do so. I'd like to be stronger. This annoys me, too.

"Why are you always dropping things? It's like you do it on purpose." I have carpal tunnel. I'm losing the feeling in my hand. This is worse for me than it is for you.

"Why did you do that?! Why did you fall over- you almost broke the TV!" And my arm, thank you. I have problems with my balance. I think I'm straight, but I'm really leaning to the right and . . .

Fuck you. You know I'm sick. I've explained this to you. Figure out what that means and leave me alone. And take your responsibility with you.

By Definition

Sometimes the people at Rapture Ready worry me. Actually, a lot of the time they worry me, what with the death cult and the gun ownership and the tea partying and the gun ownership, but sometimes I worry very much for them, rather than about them.

Someone at work today mentioned to me that I seem sad, not like myself...uhh.....ya THINK!!!!!

Well, I don't generally talk to folks at work about my life.....but I did share a little with her that I am just really sick of the world, the folks in it, the job, etc...and she said that it might be helpful to talk to a Counselor.....I could not help but to laugh out loud, and then I imagined what that session might go like:

Counselor: So, tell me what is bothering you Mrs. Coco?
Me: Everything
C: Can you elaborate?
Me: NO
C: Well, I need to know what troubles you in order to help?
Me: I'm sick of this world , my job, where I live, people, everything, and tired of waiting on Jesus to come!
C: ...Well, do you want to change careers?
Me: Yes, I would like a new job in the Kingdom of Heaven.
C: ...Well, do you want to move to a new place?
Me: Yes, I would like to move into my Mansion that Jesus has prepared for me in Heaven.
C: ..Well, do you want to go out and meet new people?
Me: No, I would like to meet my BIC and SIC in Heaven.
C: (skips right over the Jesus question) Well, sounds to me like you are saying you don't want to be a part of this world anymore.
Me: You are a Genius!
C: ..Glad I could help!
Me:

Really, I would not even waste my time trying to explain to someone how I feel....let alone pay them to listen to me. That's why I come here and share my heart with you all. The secular world thinks expensive shrinks and drugs can solve everything. No doubt these things do help stabilize a lot of folks with various conditions. But truly, I tell you, I know EXACTLY what is wrong with me. It is not the blues, nor depression, nor PMS, nor a hormone imbalance, nor a rut. And working in an office full of non-believing women as they would suggest.....no it is not lack of a man ....I definitely DO NOT NEED that!!!!! But people want to put a label on whatever ails you figuring it can be cured or fixed. However, amongst many a Christian waiting so desperately for the Lord to sound the trump-- it can't be labeled, cured or fixed until the day of the Rapture.

I really hate the vomity emoticon. They use it a lot. Anyway, let's review what depression is:

Depression is a common mental disorder that presents with depressed mood, loss of interest or pleasure, feelings of guilt or low self-worth, disturbed sleep or appetite, low energy, and poor concentration.

So, depressed mood- check. Loss of interest and/or pleasure- check. Feelings of guilt and/or low self-worth- these people specialize in that. I have no idea about the last few symptoms, but yes, Cocopea, you are depressed. I'm actually sincerely worried about this woman.

Let me put it this way: suppose I said that my life sucks and I hate everyone in it and everything about it, so I'm going to try to find a way into the world of Girl Genius. That world is awesome! I'll make hats for Jägerkin and life will be grand! I can't wait!

I imagine that you would be a tiny bit concerned about me. As in, "PF has become completely delusional, we really ought to do something before she hurts someone."

Well, you're obviously not a good Christian, because nobody, not one person, does the responsible thing and advises this poor woman to get help. They just laud her for being depressed, mostly because they're all depressed, too. Depression is not a virtue, people!

I have been feeling the same way , especially the last few weeks. The world just doesn't get it.
We who believe, who have been doing our best to let them know that Jesus is Lord, that the last days are upon us, and there is so much more for them than this uglier by the day world, are being laughed at more and more.
A sadness for the lost has settled in me. They just won't listen to how ugly it's gonna get. My body is weary, my soul is vexed with this world. It is a weariness that will not shake off....

Or depression. Or a thyroid problem. Or a vitamin deficiency. Seriously, see a damn doctor!

No, they don't. I feel like no one really gets it except for some here.

Bologna fleeing the slicer.

I could have written that word for word....in fact I am sure I have somewhere on this board....

I did not realize this Sunday is Pentecost...wow!

Yes, I can't wait to see Jesus coming in the clouds...also I have a favorite song about that, "In the sky"....I see him coming in the sky!....Sometimes when I am driving and listening to that song...I feel like if I did see Jesus coming, I would get out of my car and stand up on the roof of it and just start pointing and shouting...I see him coming in the sky!

I can tell you, in the past I have spent a lot of time lonely because I did not have anyone. Or, I felt alone gathered around folks that had someone....or the loneliness of being a single parent, even lonely in church...etc. etc......Like many here, I've experienced a lot of loneliness and even physically being alone...yet, I could often still go out in the world and fit in.....but never ever ever in my life....have I felt so totally alone because of what I believe, think and feel, and how I try and live, and what I desire most in my heart and soul.

Now I'm just sad.

I've been waiting for someone to write this...I was afraid it would be erased or the thread would be deleted.....oh, boy I have been sooooo excited and then....for some reason the last couple days....... I have been totally depressed!!! I too agree on all the above. all day yesterday and last night I stayed in my bedroom away from my family just DEPRESSED. It's like it's NEVER going to get here...the rapture...when will our DREAMS COME TRUE???

I JUST WANNA' GO HOME!!

know what I mean??? It's like when you want something to eat and you can't satisfy yourself with anything you try. You still have that craving!!! well that craving is really, really, really BAD!! and knawling at my stomach and in my head. it's like my body wants it soooo desparately!


The best I can say to satisfy my hunger is....

I WANNA' GO HOME!!!






GOD...PLEASE SEND YOUR SON TO COME AND GET US...WE ARE SOOOOOOOOOO TIRED!!


PLEASE, PLEASE JESUS...CALL US HOME!!!!

I just want to hug you! And slap the person who introduced you to this belief.

Sympathy for the Devil

hasan, evil, mental illness

Sympathy:

the fact or power of sharing the feelings of another, esp. in sorrow or trouble; fellow feeling, compassion, or commiseration. It's hard for most to feel sympathy for a person who has done a terrible thing, for someone like Major Hasan. I understand why. He ended and ruined so many lives, and were he alive there is no explanation, no apology he could give, no action he could take to undo or make up for what he did. No matter what or who he was before he started shooting up Fort Hood, the Fort Hood killer is what he'll always be from now on. And yet, I sympathize. I wonder what drives people past the brink. What is it that motivates a man who lived peacefully for over 40 years to commit such terrible mayhem? Was it madness? I understand that. Psychosis is not an uncommon side effect of porphyria. I don't like to talk about it, but I had a psychotic break shortly before being diagnosed. I remember those 3 days as fear, wave after wave of raw terror with never a moment of relief. Had someone put a loaded weapon in my hands, I probably would have blown my own head off to end the fear, but maybe not. Maybe I would have tried to kill everyone who was scaring me, which was everyone at that point. The dirty little secret of psychiatry is that it is a profession with a very high suicide rate. It's hardly surprising. Psychiatrists act as psychic garbage disposals, constantly absorbing the misery and pain of others. It's hardly surprising when the line gets clogged. Then there is the concept of the "trigger", wherein a sane person simply experiences more than they can bear and snaps. Some will argue that this is nonsense, that they will never snap, and they point to all the people who never do as proof. I think this is perhaps an unwillingness on their part to confront the evil within, the evil in all of us. I am a gentle person. I am loathe to hurt another person in any way, physically or emotionally. I feel tremendous guilt when I accidentally hurt another person's feelings, so the concept of me, in my right mind, killing other people is ridiculous. Except it's not. Push me the wrong way, hit enough of the right triggers, and I know, though I don't want to think it, that I could do something terrible. We all would. The difference, the only difference, between any of us, so safe in our peaceful sanity, and Major Hasan, is that his triggers were pushed, hard enough and often enough. Perhaps his triggers were easier to push, but we all have them. So sympathize with the devil, because only then can we hope to prevent such tragedies in the future. We need to learn from these events, and we can't unless we sympathize. Our servicemen and women are hurting. They come back from war quite predictably changed, and what do we offer them? Very little. "Go home, get a job, thanks for all the kills" and then they go back home, often unrecognizable to their loved ones, and can't get bombs and blood and horror out of their minds. We spend tens of thousands of dollars training them to kill, and very little training them to live again. Major Hasan was trying, and well, we know what happened there. Sympathy is the only hope we have. Unfortunately, it seems to be in quite short supply.