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As a friend of mine pointed out, there was a weird thing happening in cyberspace this week: People were rationing grief. Portioning it up like that really can be done, like any of us could put a cap on sadness, anger, denial, fear.
Recently I was invited to write on my personal blog about weight stigma and what does it mean to me as part of fellow blogger and ED activist Voice in Recovery's Weight Stigma Blog Carnival. (ViR is HealthyPlace blogger Kendra Sebelius, author of Debunking Addiction.) I wanted to continue the conversation about weight stigma on Surviving ED.
I was very nervous about writing "Weight(ing) For Change: Why Weight Stigma Impacts Us All." Why? Because it forced me to face my own prejudices and fears towards people who are overweight or obese, and about weight in general.
I'm a few days late with this post, but with good reason: we've been trying to orchestrate Ben's hospital discharge plans. Yes - after this six-week relapse, he is finally back with us (as of yesterday), in so many ways.
If you've been following this schizophrenia relapse, you know that this had been Ben's first relapse in over six years, and that it was precipitated by a too-quick-and-unguided move from a group home to independent living. Once he went off his meds this time, there was the danger he might not agree to take them again - and that, if he did, they might not work again.
Yet, here we are. I could cry from relief and happiness. For today, we have Ben back.
During the time I was trying to save my marriage, I made quite a few mistakes. One of them was naming the type of verbal abuse he used as he said the words.
After educating myself with many books (mostly by Patricia Evans), I made a list of the abusive techniques he has at his disposal. I learned them (hint: great idea) and posted them on the fridge (hint: terrible idea). Then, when he'd pull one of those tricks out of his hat, I named it, told him that I would talk to him when he was NOT trying to control me, and then turn on my dainty heels to leave the room.
I dropped Bob off this morning to spend the next week with his father. On the way, we hit the pharmacy to pick up his medication refills. I handed him one of his pills, as we'd been out when he took his morning doses. "It's chewable," I said, "so you can take it without water."
When we reached his father's house, I got out of the car, gave him a long hug goodbye, and got back in the car. As he and his father drove away, I noticed, in the passenger seat, the pill I'd handed him twenty minutes earlier.
Amanda_HP
Sharing your mental health with the world can backfire sometimes. There are stories across the Internet where people have lost jobs, severed relationships, and been severely criticized because they admitted to having a mental illness like depression, bipolar disorder, borderline personality disorder or you name it. Of course, that's why most people use a false identity when posting on the web, so others won't know it's them.
In January the FDA had a meeting about whether electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) machines should be moved from the most dangerous category of medical devices (Class 3) to the less dangerous Class 2.
And the freak outs began.
I saw people screaming about how wrong it was and writing petitions and wanting to go to the FDA meeting to voice their opinion. I mostly ignored this issue because, well, I didn't care. I have so many important issues on my plate there just wasn't room for one more.
That is until I can across an article in Psychiatric Times by Charles H. Kellner, MD. Kellner explains why the move from Class 3 to Class 2 is important and its possible effect on patients.
What if you didn't have access to ECT anymore?
Monday, I took Bob to the water park with my sister and her daughter, who is Bob's age. The kids get along well, and my sister and I saw this as our opportunity to beach ourselves at the wave pool while they did their "kid" thing.
Later, I recounted our day to my husband. "You let them go off by themselves?" he asked, incredulous.
Hi. Thanks for joining us as we expose the biggest myths in mental illness. Today's myth: a bad childhood causes mental illness.
Recently I became very depressed for no apparent reason. My therapist and I decided I needed to be evaluated, and that's when the nightmare started.
I live in a cluster apartment, so staff called hospital security to take me to the Crisis Intervention Unit (CIU). Hospital security said no officers were available, so staff called the Indianapolis Metropolitan Police Department. The police called for a medic, but both the medic and the police refused to transport me, saying that transporting me was hospital security's job. They made me sign a form refusing transportation, and said that all the psychiatric beds in Indy were taken.
I was taken to the emergency room, evaluated, diagnosed with suicidal ideation, and sent home because there were no beds available.
Well, eventually, the depression demons took hold and he told me on August 5th 2023 that he decided he wanted to just move to MT and isolate himself from everyone. He had been offered a free place to stay if he did some maintenance. He is very handy and that type of situation was very ideal because it was flexible; he only worked on things on the days he was physically up to it.
We talked every night like "normal" up until he left on April 14th 2023. We had a long distance relationship then and so I didnt get to see him in person often and didnt see him that last week. He told me one last time that he loved me and he was sorry to hurt me and I have not heard from him since. He didnt even tell his parents or sister he was leaving.
I still love him as much as I ever have even though it has been over a year since we last spoke. I just had dinner with a close friend who was always very critical of him because often he would have to cancel plans last minute due to the Crohn's or because he would go dark for weeks at a time. She told me tonight that he is a selfish person and that if he truly loved me he would have gotten help for the depression. Oddly, she has been depressed before and suicidal which you would think would make her more understanding. I asked her if when she contiplated suicide was she selfish? She said yes. I said but are you a selfish person and she said no. I said that was the same for him. Sure him leaving me and his family was "selfish" but at his core, is he selfish? Absolutely not. She thinks because she was able to conquer her depression that if he really loved me, he would have fought his depression. It makes me sad to think she cant see the amazing guy that is buried under the depression. I know, without a doubt, if he did get a handle on the depression, that he would NOT be selfish at all. It is hard to understand why others cant see the true person under the depression.
I hope those that are struggling know that not everyone will abandon you in your time of suffering. There are people out there that see the real you and would do anything to help.
I encourage all those suffering from depression to not only tell your loved ones what you are going through, but also to seek professional help. And for those of you who love a person suffering from depression, have compassion and understanding for their struggle. Know they do not intentionally hurt you and deep down they still love you even if they cant show it.
Thanks for reading.
p.s. I also struggle with depression and anxiety but I did get help and between medication and coping techniques, I am able to be myself again.
From the story you told, it sounds like you know when your partner's alters switch.
I'm sorry this was written in the first/second person. But maybe apply this to your situation with a grain of salt.