"Mental illnesses are common in the United States. It is estimated that more than one in five U.S. adults live with a mental illness (57.8 million in 2021). Mental illnesses include many different conditions that vary in degree of severity, ranging from mild to moderate to severe."
("Mental Illness." National Institute of Mental Health. https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/statistics/mental-illness. Updated March 2023.)
Dealing with mental illness is far more painful and chronic than most people realize. I have so many details of the "craziness" I deal with that I keep to myself because others simply don't understand or want to comprehend the crippling effects of my OCD and depression. The stigma itself is permanent, and it affects everything I do -- whether by myself, with my immediate family, or with the public. My brain has learned to accept the permanent effects and side effects; however, few individuals understand that once you were considered "normal," and when a mental illness strikes, that "normality" is forever lost. I consider the misery related to the malady every day in some way ... on a scale of 10+ some days to near 3 (average) on others.
My least distressing days are merely bothersome. I know the difference between physical pain (having had many broken bones, organ, and muscular issues in my life) and mental anguish. Both can be very debilitating, yet mental illness presents issues that often persist without warning or without relief from prior preparations. They gnaw at the gut and all other parts of the body. They can reappear, so my worst days occur and I don't even want to get out of bed. I have learned from experience to address the worst with haste.
The most difficult part of growing old with mental illness is handling -- all or some -- "special" consideration. I relate that word to what we used to call "special education" categories in school. You are in the space of weird and wacky: a place where many treat you as bizarre and much less capable than the norm. Some people whom you have known all of your life, either out of pity or ignorance about your brain afflictions, begin treating you "different" after they discover you have mental illness. You become quickly pigeonholed in the "crazy person" box, and nothing you can do allows you to become normal -- in their eyes -- ever again.
I say this not for pity or special treatment, but, damn, I wish I could just be my old self without being constantly aware of my conditions, and very often worried, of how others handle our friendships or casual acquaintances. A analogy may be understood by considering how many people always "know" an ex-convict is distrustful and they "mark" him so for life after serving his sentence -- that person has lost the luxury of being judged as a working, proud part of the society, and often he is denied fair consideration because of a mistake he once made instead of whom he has become as a rehabilitated individual. Dealing with people who are aware of his past takes a considerable toll not only on his social status but also on his mental awareness.
So, when I become most sick with recurrences of my mental illness, it often justifies to others that "he is just crazy" and sends warning signals to others to be careful around him; he may act out of character with strange with his weird, preposterous attitude.
Look, I embrace my mental problems, but I positively hate when others take me out of their perspective of being right in the head and now suffering in insanity. To them, I run through the scale of life on measures ranging from implausibility to outlandishly foolish. That price I pay inhibits my best, true character and partially disables my credibility.
How do I know this? People love to speak of other's maladies in terms of general, often misunderstood labels. Anyone who has brain problems is stereotyped as wildly "off the wall." I admit to my pitfalls when I suffer my illness the most, but I cannot explain some of these actions, and people usually react to them as fanciful acts of a fool. If I would (and do) have problems with other organs -- the heart, for example -- at least people show genuine sympathy: not so with brain illnesses. They may feel sorry for the afflicted person, but often believe either think "it's all in his head"; he has falsely invented problems; or he is incurably insane.
How then do I believe you should treat those struggling -- often chronically -- with mental illness? I say: "Treat them as suffering from a misunderstood common malady and with all your patience for their full recovery." Treat them as normal humans suffering from little-known causes and tremendous consequences. Never believe they are "just plain way-out, wacky screwballs." Beg them to seek psychiatric help and treat them just as you would a person dealing with any debilitating illness.
Medications may falter, moods may swing, sadly uncomfortable feelings may emerge, but be hopeful that a patient -- with professional help -- will be back to his "old self" soon. Psychiatrists cure just like doctors do. Right now their best weapon is a variety of medications, often given in good faith and through trial and error. I hope someday soon that corrective surgeries may stop further progression of any mental disease. What professionals know about the complexities of the brain today is minuscule compared with their knowledge about other vital organs like the heart, lungs, or kidneys.
For God's sake, don't make them "feel different." Talking around a mental patient (like he can't understand), making frequent excuses to others for his weird behaviors, or just simply putting him in that "isolated pigeonhole" defeats all progress. I can attest that suffering from mental illness can be unpredictable and real.
If you want to believe he is faking, you also need to educate yourself on his conditions. I can testify that mental anguish and pain is so much more hurtful than most people believe. Also, you just can't "crawl out of your own hole" and unlike as many think -- "just do something to cheer yourself up." On first indication of leaning on the edge, encourage mental patients to find professional, qualified assistance. I have seen so psychiatrists, it would make me dizzy to count, and I know some are much better than others in treating my two disorders: obsession and depression. Encourage a person to try several doctors if need be.
One last caution for me to others: religion cannot "cure" mental illness unless one receives a miracle from the Almighty. I believe in God; I daily walk down His path seeking his help. I still need professional medical help to improve. Prayer and meditation may help ease suffering, yet I believe they do not usually work miracles for mental patients without trained practitioners.
Before you dismiss my claim, consider my past experience and my use of counseling and faith. Both counseling and faith lead to help; however, medical doctors offer much-needed relief that is more reliable than talk and reading. True, God is in control. Through Him all things are possible. However, he works hand-in-hand with psychiatrists and psychologists. If you begin to suffer, don't wait too long to seek out pros in this field of medicine. Your fear of being known as "another crazy person seeing a shrink" is unfounded, believe me. I have dealt with them since 1984.
To summarize, I hate the unpredictable appearance of mental illness, but I also detest those who believe it can't be treated. The long list of doctors and meds I have used (still use) to control my chronic brain problems seem never-ending, and perhaps they are. Call it addiction; I know how necessary for me they are.
Most importantly, I hope you know "I am still me," the same old person you have known although now susceptible to suffering with mental problems. I want you to know I love you even if you feel I am "off the rails." (Wow, am I using tons of cliches today.) I need you now more than ever, and maybe ... just maybe ... you need me too. Feel free to speak with me about your own mental illnesses, and we might work well together to be sounding boards of truth and solid understanding.
Thanks for treating me as a person, not as a sick pup with incurable problems. My advice is strictly my own, not meant to represent the voice of anyone else. Yet, I can still think as a responsible member of society, and I believe strongly you are one too. Maybe we, together, can be of great assistance to ourselves and to others. I pray others do not suffer the effects of my two afflictions, and I feel at best when others understand me, not distrust or disbelieve me. Ignoring any problem is troublesome and even fatal.
I live with and within my boundaries of any so-called expertise. I just would love to be the old, whatever I used to be, person. I apologize if I periodically fall short. I make no excuses for my own blunders. I bet we are much more alike than many would give us credit for being. My head is my best and worst enemy, and I know I will medicate my afflictions for the rest of my life. But hey, I still love pizza, beer, and baseball, so I must be "OK" for others who know me still well enough to treat me well. I'd love to send these miserable conditions that crop up in my head to hell. And, I still believe it is possible. I have been walking a long, long road already, but I never intend to stop shuffling towards better health.
“It's my experience that people are a lot more sympathetic if they can see you hurting, and for the millionth time in my life I wish for measles or smallpox or some other easily understood disease just to make it easier on me and also on them.”
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