A RECOVERY STORY

It’s hard to say when exactly I got sick. I was first diagnosed with a severe mental illness in 1974, but I believe that it started long, long before that. Really, it doesn’t matter, though. The first time I knew for sure something was wrong was in 1971. I had gone to my high school graduation party and the next day was a bridesmaid in my sister’s wedding. By the time I got done with that I was extremely tired, went to bed and fell very soundly to sleep. When I woke up the next day, it was three months later and I found myself standing on a road in Spain. To make matters worse, I was wearing a Navy uniform.

I was extremely upset to say the least. I was hospitalized with an “adjustment disorder,” not uncommon for young people, and sent overseas in the military. But what had really happened to me was that I had gone into a dissociative state, joined the service, gone through basic training, and suddenly “woke up” to find myself in Spain. Well, I finished out my enlistment with only one more hospitalization (in 1974, a “psychotic break”), received an honorable discharge and went home.

Unfortunately, I didn’t follow up with anyone regarding my “psychotic breaks” and began having them every six months or so. I would be hospitalized, often on an emergency detention, get medication and support, be released with instructions to follow up with a psychiatrist and take medications. I would never do this and ended up in a spiraling cycle of illness, plateau, and more illness. I was labeled schizophrenic and given little hope.
Finally, after about 10 years, I got tired of the cycle and made an effort to get help. I did find a psychiatrist and a therapist and started taking the medications that were offered me. Some of those meds worked well, some didn’t; but the thing is, I wanted to be well, so I continued to seek out the best treatments. Slowly but surely, my mind started to clear, I began functioning at a better level, started my education and got a job. I now live pretty successfully, have a full-time job with a lot of responsibility, and have a happy life. I’d like to highlight some of the things that made that recovery possible.

First of all, I had to BELIEVE. I had to believe that I had a mental illness so that I wouldn’t keep avoiding treatment. But more importantly, I had to believe that I could recover, that I could have a life that was fulfilling and that I didn’t have to spend day after day in a hospital or stuck in my apartment because I was too scared to go out. Once I started believing that I could recover, I was taking the first step on the journey.

Secondly, I had to LEARN. I learned as much about my illness as I could; I learned about my medications. I learned about other illnesses and medications. I learned about subjects that interested me and I learned about subjects that didn’t interest me. I wanted to learn something new every day and I think this is a good goal for everyone, use every possible way—the internet, books, classes. Now, we all know that our meds can blur our vision, make concentration difficult, and dull our brains. Here’s what I suggest. If you can’t read, listen. Listen to public radio, educational channels on TV, public speakers, books on tape from the library. Listen and learn. It doesn’t matter how you get the stuff into your brain, just do it! The more you learn, the more ammunition you’ll have for recovering from your illness.

Next, I needed to WORK. Don’t let that scare you. By work, I mean any organized, productive activity, especially when around other people. So paid work, volunteering, or even an art or craft. Why is this so important? Well, you get a lot more from work than money. Work is a chance to produce something; a product that you can be proud of. Work is a chance to be around other people, make friends and social networks and importantly, teach others that people with mental illness are not something to be stigmatized. Work also allows us structure in our lives, teaches us about schedules and responsibilities, and that’s true for paid work or for volunteering. Finally, work gives us a chance to experiment with coping strategies that will help us manage our illnesses while we are out in public. Now, I sincerely believe that everyone should work at something. There is not one of us who is too ill to work at least one hour a week doing something, even if it’s just stuffing envelopes for a charitable organization in town.

Fourth on my list is to ADVOCATE. It’s incredible the amount of personal power you can feel when you advocate on issues you are passionate about. It doesn’t have to just be mental health issues, but that’s a good place to start. Learn about client rights, current legislation that may affect you, know who your representatives are. Write letters to the editor of your local newspaper, attend Empowerment Days in Madison. Support your beliefs—ADVOCATE.
Finally, DON’T GIVE UP! Don’t give up under any circumstance, no matter how bad you feel the pain is. Don’t give up; it WILL get better if you let it. I have been there, where the pain is so intense that all I could think of was the peace of dying. And I tried suicide. But it isn’t worth it. You don’t get rid of the pain that way; you just transfer it to those who love you, your peers, and all others who have a severe mental illness. DON’T GIVE UP! When you’re feeling your worst, go back to my first step. BELIEVE that you can recover and you will. DON’T EVER, EVER GIVE UP!

Well, that’s my story. I don’t want to say that I wasted those first 10 years; I’ll just call them a learning experience. I do know that when I came to BELIEVE, LEARN, WORK, ADVOCATE, and NOT GIVE UP, I also came to have a much happier, more fulfilling life. That is my holiday wish for you, too.