As a patient, I must say that some family
understanding can help or hurt. There are the
'cool' family members and then the 'not so cool'
family members. To gain family understanding
there has to be effort on both sides.
Yet, the side of the patient should be viewed
in steps. I say this, because I have been diagnosed
as mentally ill for almost thirty years now. I am
almost fifty and I was institutionalized by family
when I was twenty-one. I am third generation, or
longer, mental health patient.
My grandfather was bipolar. He was ravaged
with ECT (electro-convulsive therapy) all through
his illness- at least twice a week. He had diabetes.
So bad that, he would inject his own insulin twice
a day. One arm, one leg. The next day, the other
arm, the other leg. He died in his sixties.
My grandfather and my uncle were both on
my mother's side. My uncle was a schizophrenic.
Somehow, I have both and then some. Hence,
schizo-affective bipolar-type. My uncle also had
diabetes. He died when he was 46 years old. I am
counting every day past that as a blessing.
Both of them, well, they both spent most of their
adult lives in board and cares without many visits
throughout their stay. In fact, they were hardly
visited at all. The family, wrote them off. They were
taken care of and family just couldn't be bothered.
Not their job anymore.
Then I come along. The first grandchild of the
second family. My grandmother was married twice.
Once to my cousins' grandfather, then to mine. Her
first marriage, she had two children, and in her
second marriage, she had four children. Of the second
batch, only one child is still alive. Of the first batch,
they are both still alive.
Out of 11 grandchildren, only I have a mental
illness. Or so, I am the only one in the family
'diagnosed' with a mental illness. I refuse to be
'put aside'. I have my ambition, and I have my
education. Most of the family said, "Don't mess up
your Social Security!" Just live. You have a roof
over your head, a bed to sleep in, food on the table.
You should be happy you have that.
It isn't about being happy though. It's not being
contented either. Being happy with what I have is
giving up. I know there is a place for me, I just have
to find it...and I think I have.
Being a peer support counselor, has me loving to
go to work. I don't have to hide my illness, and I don't
have to be ashamed I have a diagnosis. Maybe, I have
finally found my way. But, I never gave up.
The first step, which was a big hurdle, was coming
to terms with my illness. I had to accept that I was a
disabled person. I had to accept my diagnosis. The
'cool' family members, would treat me the same as they
did when I was younger. They didn't bombard me with
'the silence' or talk about me in the same room as if I
wasn't there. To them, I was still the me that they grew
up with.
The 'not so cool' family, would degrade and chide
to the point of self-consciousness. Embarrassing me in
front of family, but worse, embarrassing me in public.
It's as if, they want to advertise that I am broken and
unfixable. That gets them negative attention, and the
one that is the target? Well, now you sort of understand.
The next step, well, is getting to know your family,
outside of the doctor's office. Don't ask what the doctor
said. Inside that office, things are private. The doctor
tries to help the patient work through their problems
in their own time. You cannot hurry through this. And
asking, only makes it worse, because the patient may
not know that it is ok to say, "I'm sorry but that is private."
Feeling frustrated without having an emotion name for
it yet. But, we are working toward emotional intelligence.
Learning that there are more emotions than sad, happy,
angry. It takes time. Time to learn.
The third step, and by no means the last, is being
able to separate symptoms from reality. Recognizing
when to keep ideas to yourself and when it is ok to
share your thoughts on something. And most of all,
when we feel like we are still part of the family, that
is the greatest gift. And please, don't insult our
intelligence, when it is our behavior that got us here.
Vocabulary ABC's
Surgeon General on Stigma
understanding can help or hurt. There are the
'cool' family members and then the 'not so cool'
family members. To gain family understanding
there has to be effort on both sides.
Yet, the side of the patient should be viewed
in steps. I say this, because I have been diagnosed
as mentally ill for almost thirty years now. I am
almost fifty and I was institutionalized by family
when I was twenty-one. I am third generation, or
longer, mental health patient.
My grandfather was bipolar. He was ravaged
with ECT (electro-convulsive therapy) all through
his illness- at least twice a week. He had diabetes.
So bad that, he would inject his own insulin twice
a day. One arm, one leg. The next day, the other
arm, the other leg. He died in his sixties.
My grandfather and my uncle were both on
my mother's side. My uncle was a schizophrenic.
Somehow, I have both and then some. Hence,
schizo-affective bipolar-type. My uncle also had
diabetes. He died when he was 46 years old. I am
counting every day past that as a blessing.
Both of them, well, they both spent most of their
adult lives in board and cares without many visits
throughout their stay. In fact, they were hardly
visited at all. The family, wrote them off. They were
taken care of and family just couldn't be bothered.
Not their job anymore.
Then I come along. The first grandchild of the
second family. My grandmother was married twice.
Once to my cousins' grandfather, then to mine. Her
first marriage, she had two children, and in her
second marriage, she had four children. Of the second
batch, only one child is still alive. Of the first batch,
they are both still alive.
Out of 11 grandchildren, only I have a mental
illness. Or so, I am the only one in the family
'diagnosed' with a mental illness. I refuse to be
'put aside'. I have my ambition, and I have my
education. Most of the family said, "Don't mess up
your Social Security!" Just live. You have a roof
over your head, a bed to sleep in, food on the table.
You should be happy you have that.
It isn't about being happy though. It's not being
contented either. Being happy with what I have is
giving up. I know there is a place for me, I just have
to find it...and I think I have.
Being a peer support counselor, has me loving to
go to work. I don't have to hide my illness, and I don't
have to be ashamed I have a diagnosis. Maybe, I have
finally found my way. But, I never gave up.
The first step, which was a big hurdle, was coming
to terms with my illness. I had to accept that I was a
disabled person. I had to accept my diagnosis. The
'cool' family members, would treat me the same as they
did when I was younger. They didn't bombard me with
'the silence' or talk about me in the same room as if I
wasn't there. To them, I was still the me that they grew
up with.
The 'not so cool' family, would degrade and chide
to the point of self-consciousness. Embarrassing me in
front of family, but worse, embarrassing me in public.
It's as if, they want to advertise that I am broken and
unfixable. That gets them negative attention, and the
one that is the target? Well, now you sort of understand.
The next step, well, is getting to know your family,
outside of the doctor's office. Don't ask what the doctor
said. Inside that office, things are private. The doctor
tries to help the patient work through their problems
in their own time. You cannot hurry through this. And
asking, only makes it worse, because the patient may
not know that it is ok to say, "I'm sorry but that is private."
Feeling frustrated without having an emotion name for
it yet. But, we are working toward emotional intelligence.
Learning that there are more emotions than sad, happy,
angry. It takes time. Time to learn.
The third step, and by no means the last, is being
able to separate symptoms from reality. Recognizing
when to keep ideas to yourself and when it is ok to
share your thoughts on something. And most of all,
when we feel like we are still part of the family, that
is the greatest gift. And please, don't insult our
intelligence, when it is our behavior that got us here.
Vocabulary ABC's
Surgeon General on Stigma