Faces of mental illness: Patients share their stories As the fifth edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-5) is released in May, Yahoo is
featuring first-person stories from Americans who are diagnosed with some of the most common mental health disorders
in the United States. Here are some of their stories. In the caption, you can click to their full accounts to read more.
By Michele Darien | Yahoo! Contributor Network – Tue, May 7, 2013 [attachment=1232]FIRST PERSON | I'm a 46-year-old San Antonio resident. I've had multiple chronic illnesses for most of my adult life, including "mental illnesses." Although I went through counseling in my younger years, mostly in college and law school, the first time I remember seeing the word "anxiety" associated with my medical condition was in June 1994. I was living back east then. My family physician had me hospitalized after I experienced unrelenting hallucinations over the course of several months. I was convinced I was demon-possessed and nobody could convince me otherwise. I was 27. I relocated to Texas in 1995. Over the next couple of years, I was re-diagnosed and misdiagnosed until 1997 or 1998 when mental health professionals with a local university's health system settled on a dual diagnosis: delusional disorder and anxiety disorder N.O.S. -- or "not otherwise specified." As for the delusional disorder, various doctors prescribed anti-psychotic medications. None of them worked for me. Psychotherapy was the treatment that helped. Even though I still hear voices inside my head, I know that I am not demon-possessed. When it comes to the anxiety disorder N.O.S., one medicine worked. However, when I ran out of it, I had serious withdrawal symptoms, including dizziness, tremors and sweating. The next time I saw my doctor, I decided not to ask for a new prescription. The anxiety disorder is still severe enough to affect my daily activities. I haven't driven in several years because of panic attacks. (I've also had panic attacks as a passenger.) I've started organizing praise poetry readings, but friends host them. I haven't gone to a movie since 2003 -- and even then I had a panic attack on the way to the theater and had to leave almost as soon as I got there. I believe that psychiatric and psychological disorders still carry stigma. In the wake of mass shootings, it seems that many believe that people with mental illnesses are prone to violence. I've also heard a couple of well-known Christian ministers speak of mental illness as if it's evidence of a lack of faith. Clinical depression goes beyond the blues. Anxiety disorder goes beyond butterflies in the stomach. There's no wishing away any form of mental illness. Illness is illness whether it affects the heart, lungs, kidneys or brain. Despite my experiences, I'm optimistic about my future and about changes in attitudes about mental illness. I've learned to live with chronic illness. I function how I can when I can. It's great to hear other people discussing mental illness in a no-nonsense manner these days. Hopefully, open discussion will lead to more support; and, more support will encourage people to seek treatment when they need it. By David Daly | Yahoo! Contributor Network – Thu, May 2, 2013 [attachment=1233]FIRST PERSON | In the summer of 2010, I found myself at a major turning point. I was leaving the Marine Corps for the
second and final time.
My career as a Marine officer spanned about 10 years. I served in numerous combat tours both in Iraq and Afghanistan.
Before leaving, I couldn't help but reflect on the darkness that consumed my thoughts and the cold numbness which
halted my ability to feel emotions. In a rare moment of what I thought was "weakness," I decided to visit the mental
health clinic. It was then I was first diagnosed with a moderate to high level of PTSD.
The countless horrors of war never bothered me, or so I thought. After my diagnosis and re-entry into civilian life, I
noticed this was not the case. I had a cold, dark, and sometimes cruel outlook on the world. I spent much of my free time
hiding away in my condo. The walls were barren and unpainted. The blinds always closed. I wanted no connection with a
world I felt disgusted to be a part of. I hardly slept, maybe three hours on a good night.
Many of the activities I once enjoyed no longer held my interest. I found it difficult to feel love. Even family members
seemed to be out of reach. My mind swam in a dark fog. I knew what I was supposed to feel but couldn't connect with
that part of me anymore.
I am now 34 and living in Southern California. Each day I deal with PTSD. Some days I am all right. Others I am dark
and jaded. I find it hard to control it sometimes. My loving wife and daughter see past it and deal with me when I am
"Dark Dave," as they call it. Were it not for them and the rest of my family, I think the PTSD would have consumed me
long ago. Most days I am optimistic that I can control it and try to feel at peace. But that cloud in my mind feels like being
lost in a stormy sea. I don't always beat it. Only my family and God have the lifeline I cling to for salvation.
It is my hope that others will hear my story and take comfort in the knowledge that there is no "weakness" in admitting
that war or any event causes PTSD. There is sometimes, especially in the military, a stigma attached to PTSD. I would
hope people, especially veterans, would understand that there is no shame in PTSD. True warriors know real strength
is found in admitting your problems. In doing so we help to free others held by similar chains.
By Gabriel Brito | Yahoo! Contributor Network – Tue, May 7, 2013[attachment=1234]FIRST PERSON | I had always been the odd one out in my family. They were all overweight. I stayed thin. I contribute
this to my strict vegetarian diet and my love of running, but whatever the reason, it led to many snarky comments that
led to my anorexia.
At 16, I was constantly told to "enjoy being thin while it lasted" and was encouraged to count calories. Both family and
friends seemed to think I would suddenly gain 100 pounds overnight due to genetics, and while many comments were
meant to be helpful, the constant reminder that "thin" was better than "fat" started to take its toll on me.
Over time, my older sisters, who had always struggled to stay thin, would mock me endlessly. They often stared in
disgust and made rude noises when I ate. Schoolmates cajoled me to date before I became "ugly like my family."
Bullies stole my lunch money "to do me a favor." As the tormenting increased, so did my desire to stay thin. I started
eliminating all junk food from my diet and began drinking only water. I dropped nearly 10 pounds in a week, and many
commented on how great I looked.
I quickly got sucked into the whole "thin = better" mindset and became frustrated when I wasn't able to drop below
110 pounds. I started skipping meals and that quickly escalated to only eating once per day. I'd limit myself to only
eating 300 calories, and then force myself to go for a run afterward. I honestly thought that if 110 pounds was good,
80 pounds must be even better. That's how extreme my anorexia was. When I was 19, my BMI was 14.4.
One thing most don't realize about anorexia is that curing the behavior is not as simple as "just eating a sandwich."
Even though I was losing weight, I would look in the mirror and see this fat person staring back at me. You begin to
dwell on imperfections and, in my case, it led to severe depression that only made the anorexia worse. Even worse were
the intense feelings of guilt and disgust every time I would try to eat. I began to hate my body and couldn't stand being
trapped in it. I tried to kill myself because I was so disgusted by the person I had become.
I was anorexic for six years and honestly thought I'd die before I got better. It was only when my little sister, only 5 at
the time, told me she was scared of getting fat that I knew I had to change. I didn't want my baby sister going through
the same struggles I did, so I decided to get help and learn how to be healthy again. It took two years and several
relapses.
I began going to therapy several times a week here in Saraland, Ala., and I relearned how to eat. Getting help for an
eating disorder is extremely complicated. Once you get wrapped up in the whole "food = bad" mindset, eating even a
few bites can make you feel disgusting, guilty, depressed and angry. I went to therapy and learned how to cope with
those feelings and, with hard work, they eventually went away. During that time I was on antidepressants, but once the
guilt and depression from eating went away, I was able to stop taking them.
Relearning how to eat was equally hard, because I restricted my diet so much for so long. The idea of eating bread or
other "empty calories" was torture to me. I started working with a nutritionist who planned all my meals at first, so all I
had to focus on was eating. Between that and therapy, I was slowly able to start planning my own meals, then eventually
eat without needing a meal plan at all.
I now weigh 110 pounds with a BMI of 18.9. I'm proud to say that I beat this disorder and am never going back.
By Cindy Leisure | Yahoo! Contributor Network – Mon, May 6, 2013[attachment=1235]
FIRST PERSON | Imagine walking into someone's office and seeing pamphlets or business cards lying around and
pictures on the wall. Sounds normal, right? Now imagine that those cards, pamphlets or pictures are slightly crooked, and
that's the only thing that you can focus on in that room. You don't hear what people are saying to you; all you can hear is
your own mind telling you to straighten things up, make them even. You try to look at the person speaking to you, but
your eyes keep wandering back to these crooked items. You finally walk over to straighten them out just so that you can
focus on the person rather than driving yourself crazy thinking about how uneven things are. You turn around to see
them staring at you in confusion.
I'm 31, and I've been living like this for years. I was diagnosed about three years ago with obsessive-compulsive
disorder, post-traumatic stress disorder, and general anxiety disorder. I believe that my OCD stems mostly from a very
dysfunctional childhood and my perception that I had to be perfect in order to keep some amount of peace in my home.
It eventually became more extreme and more things had to be even.
Now, I don't even step on cracks, and if I do slip up, I have to step on the crack with my other foot to make it even.
Living in the Arizona heat it gets a little frustrating when you are spending more time than needed in 110-degree weather!
I tried medications to alleviate the problem; however, it just created more problems. I became so lethargic that I just
didn't care to make things even when I could just leave the room and go take a nap. That was no way to live for me. I
would rather go about my life making things even and constantly cleaning than to feel useless. I do, however, go to
therapy to deal with all of my issues, and I recommend that to anyone.
It's an aggravating feeling, but I made the choice to see some humor in it. I try to always keep a positive outlook, and
if people look at me in confusion, I just laugh and tell them I can't help it. I have found that most people understand and
actually have loved ones that deal with similar issues. I believe there are probably more people who deal with mental
health issues than not.
It's time to start talking about them and quit treating our problems as if they don't exist in an attempt to be "normal."
We are just as normal as anybody else; we just do things a little differently!
