LIVING WITH MY DISORDER: Breaking barriers to Mental Health
From the time I was born I knew I was special, but not this kind of special. For most of my life that I can remember, I was taken advantage of by men. I never quite understood why I would constantly put myself in the position to be used and abused, but I did. I grew up in a family that does not speak on many issues, such as sex, STD's, diseases and god forbid mental health.
As an adult I was told that as a child I was hidden from the public because I was ugly. that was enough to cause trauma in my mind that made me very insecure and unsure of myself and my worth. I grew up thinking that I wasn't in my right family, I constantly second guess myself. I craved attention. In high school, I would faint almost every Monday, which was my way of getting the attention that I so craved at home. I was the first child of my mother, but lived in a home with so many cousins that I was lost and forgotten as I was the youngest and most rebellious. We all know too well that when a child is seeking attention and love, attention is attention, so I did whatever I had to get it. I didn't feel like I had the love and support of my family.
In 1998, I graduated high school and feel in love. When I suffered my first chock hold, I was traumatized beyond words could express. I loved him, he loved me, so why would he hurt me like this? I had so many questions, but I couldn't go home that life was my home now. I was trapped. Trapped in a whirlwind of abuse, I was trapped in my mind, in my body and in my spirit. I was broken all over.
When I first felt that knife to my throat I was beside myself. I suffered anxiety to the extreme. I couldn't understand how every time I saw something that reminded me of any of the abuse I went through I would have to use the restroom or would have palpitations. In my culture, there was nothing known as anxiety or PTSD. PTSD was not known until a few years ago when veterans came back from war and exhibited signs of extreme trauma and discomfort. So how was I to know that what I suffered even had a name.
In 2009 I became a foster parent and was falling in love with two beautiful girls who I wanted to call my own, when in 2013 as a result of a whirlwind of events, I lost my girls to CPS. The day the judge decided that the girls were not going to come back home again, I suffered another traumatic experience that pushed my anxiety to another level. I grieved for three years straight. I was angry all the time. I didn't trust anyone, I was constantly nervous. I would exercise and be very exhausted because my heart and mind were working overtime. I wanted it to stop. I wanted to have a day where I could feel normal again. what was normal. normal to me was always being on guard, always worrying whether or not I was doing a good job. I constantly wondered if my friends were truly my friends, or that men loved me for who I was and what I brought to the relationship, not my physical attributes.
So when I suffered another heart break at the hands of another man I understood all too well the routine. I couldn't believe again that I was putting myself though the ordeal of not trusting when I had worked so hard to trust again.
When you deal with an individual with a mental disorder it can wreck havoc on any relationship. I never wanted to admit my disorder as I thought that my family would not understand. That I would be ridiculed as being crazy, or that people thought that they had an obligation to report me to mental institution. I needed help yes, but I needed my family more. I need a strong support system, a loving and caring mate that would understand all too well what I was going through. I didn't have that support so I suffered in silence because I didn't want to be judged for something that happened to me. I didn't get up one day and decide that I wanted to suffer from anxiety and be a nervous wreck, but it happened and that was my reality.
The bible states that when two come together they become one. That we are to love each other and be there for each other. We are to compliment each other and protect each other from harm. That was not my world. I suffered, and grieved in silence because I didn't want to admit that I was hurting, hurting for kids that the world kept reminding me was not mine. I miss my girls very much, but in order to help them I have to be honest with myself and admit that I suffer from anxiety.
Anxiety is not a dirty word, it is not something that those of us who suffer from should be ashamed of. I embrace my disability. I no longer allow family or friends to make me feel bad for suffering. I don't want to be on medication so I have decided to try other forms of intervention before my doctor put me on a regime of pills that may or may help. I have a strong support system of social workers from different parts of the world. I eat right and exercise and I have my condition under control.
My intervention may not work for you, but it works for me. Talk to your doctor if you suffer from a mental disorder, be open to different treatment plans and don't be discouraged there is help out there. I wanted to help women who have been through trauma to have a dayzafter where they can come to grips with what has happened to them and learn to live and love again. I created dayzafter to help the less fortunate woman who does not feel like she has the support of her family, friends or loved ones. To help women get the support they need, so that they don't have to make that daunting decision, because they are overwhelmed.
Dayzafter is a support system for women who need it. It is an organization that brings hope to woman suffering from a mental disorder to be confident that they can make it through. To teach individuals how to cope, how to learn, how to trust and how to get to their dayzafter.
My story is not to let you feel sorry for me, but for healing for me and all those that suffer in silence because we are scared to tell someone that we are hurting. Telling my story was important for me to help decrease the stigma that we know so well that surrounds this disease. I am no longer ashamed of my disease, I embrace it so that I can move on.
If you believe that you are suffering from a mental disorder, seek help. tell someone. reach out. There are mental health support group almost everywhere. Do your reach for alternatives before its too late. Everyone of us can help someone with the disorder. we owe it to those suffering to help, show empathy and support. Be a strong wall on which they can lean on.
For more information on PTSD or ANXIETY go to
http://www.webmd.com/anxiety-panic/anxiety-disorder-causes
http://www.mhahouston.org/search/?q=PTSD
~DayzAfter
As an adult I was told that as a child I was hidden from the public because I was ugly. that was enough to cause trauma in my mind that made me very insecure and unsure of myself and my worth. I grew up thinking that I wasn't in my right family, I constantly second guess myself. I craved attention. In high school, I would faint almost every Monday, which was my way of getting the attention that I so craved at home. I was the first child of my mother, but lived in a home with so many cousins that I was lost and forgotten as I was the youngest and most rebellious. We all know too well that when a child is seeking attention and love, attention is attention, so I did whatever I had to get it. I didn't feel like I had the love and support of my family.
In 1998, I graduated high school and feel in love. When I suffered my first chock hold, I was traumatized beyond words could express. I loved him, he loved me, so why would he hurt me like this? I had so many questions, but I couldn't go home that life was my home now. I was trapped. Trapped in a whirlwind of abuse, I was trapped in my mind, in my body and in my spirit. I was broken all over.
When I first felt that knife to my throat I was beside myself. I suffered anxiety to the extreme. I couldn't understand how every time I saw something that reminded me of any of the abuse I went through I would have to use the restroom or would have palpitations. In my culture, there was nothing known as anxiety or PTSD. PTSD was not known until a few years ago when veterans came back from war and exhibited signs of extreme trauma and discomfort. So how was I to know that what I suffered even had a name.
In 2009 I became a foster parent and was falling in love with two beautiful girls who I wanted to call my own, when in 2013 as a result of a whirlwind of events, I lost my girls to CPS. The day the judge decided that the girls were not going to come back home again, I suffered another traumatic experience that pushed my anxiety to another level. I grieved for three years straight. I was angry all the time. I didn't trust anyone, I was constantly nervous. I would exercise and be very exhausted because my heart and mind were working overtime. I wanted it to stop. I wanted to have a day where I could feel normal again. what was normal. normal to me was always being on guard, always worrying whether or not I was doing a good job. I constantly wondered if my friends were truly my friends, or that men loved me for who I was and what I brought to the relationship, not my physical attributes.
So when I suffered another heart break at the hands of another man I understood all too well the routine. I couldn't believe again that I was putting myself though the ordeal of not trusting when I had worked so hard to trust again.
When you deal with an individual with a mental disorder it can wreck havoc on any relationship. I never wanted to admit my disorder as I thought that my family would not understand. That I would be ridiculed as being crazy, or that people thought that they had an obligation to report me to mental institution. I needed help yes, but I needed my family more. I need a strong support system, a loving and caring mate that would understand all too well what I was going through. I didn't have that support so I suffered in silence because I didn't want to be judged for something that happened to me. I didn't get up one day and decide that I wanted to suffer from anxiety and be a nervous wreck, but it happened and that was my reality.
The bible states that when two come together they become one. That we are to love each other and be there for each other. We are to compliment each other and protect each other from harm. That was not my world. I suffered, and grieved in silence because I didn't want to admit that I was hurting, hurting for kids that the world kept reminding me was not mine. I miss my girls very much, but in order to help them I have to be honest with myself and admit that I suffer from anxiety.
Anxiety is not a dirty word, it is not something that those of us who suffer from should be ashamed of. I embrace my disability. I no longer allow family or friends to make me feel bad for suffering. I don't want to be on medication so I have decided to try other forms of intervention before my doctor put me on a regime of pills that may or may help. I have a strong support system of social workers from different parts of the world. I eat right and exercise and I have my condition under control.
My intervention may not work for you, but it works for me. Talk to your doctor if you suffer from a mental disorder, be open to different treatment plans and don't be discouraged there is help out there. I wanted to help women who have been through trauma to have a dayzafter where they can come to grips with what has happened to them and learn to live and love again. I created dayzafter to help the less fortunate woman who does not feel like she has the support of her family, friends or loved ones. To help women get the support they need, so that they don't have to make that daunting decision, because they are overwhelmed.
Dayzafter is a support system for women who need it. It is an organization that brings hope to woman suffering from a mental disorder to be confident that they can make it through. To teach individuals how to cope, how to learn, how to trust and how to get to their dayzafter.
My story is not to let you feel sorry for me, but for healing for me and all those that suffer in silence because we are scared to tell someone that we are hurting. Telling my story was important for me to help decrease the stigma that we know so well that surrounds this disease. I am no longer ashamed of my disease, I embrace it so that I can move on.
If you believe that you are suffering from a mental disorder, seek help. tell someone. reach out. There are mental health support group almost everywhere. Do your reach for alternatives before its too late. Everyone of us can help someone with the disorder. we owe it to those suffering to help, show empathy and support. Be a strong wall on which they can lean on.
For more information on PTSD or ANXIETY go to
http://www.webmd.com/anxiety-panic/anxiety-disorder-causes
http://www.mhahouston.org/search/?q=PTSD
~DayzAfter
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