I really try not to tell you guys “what to” and “what not to” do. I mean, we are all adults and I don’t want to come off as someone who knows it all. Plus, there are a lot of blogs who say, “do this or don’t do this” and they come across very condescending. So, personally, I like to share what has worked for me, hoping that while sharing my experience, I can give you an idea on how to deal with your situation…advice, if you will.
But this post is different. I will absolutely say with certainty that when are talking to someone with a mental illness, there are just some things that you should not say. Not only will it sound insensitive, but it may very well drive them over the edge.
One thing not to say to someone with a mental illness is, “Well, at least you’re not…” (followed by a tragic event happening in the world). For example, if I say, “I can’t deal with life anymore” and then you say, “Well at least you’re not facing deportation and having your kids taken by the government.” Although this statement may be true, it does not mean it is appropriate.
Why you ask? Well because mental illness is more about the personal hell that the individual is living in their own mind and less about their circumstances. If you have been connected to social media, then you will know that there has been an increase in suicides from very rich, influential people. Well, I guess you can say that it’s not just recently because some of the richest, most popular people were known to be the most depressed; Michael Jackson, Marilyn Monroe, Whitney Houston, and now Anthony Bourdain, Kate Spade…either all died from suicide or drug overdoses.
Night time is the worst time of the day for me. When everything is silent, my thoughts are the loudest. If I am not asleep by 10 p.m. I become frustrated because then I know I will be extremely tired the next morning (whenever I fall asleep). And that alone is hard because my kids are early risers. So the more time that does by, the angrier I get, and the louder my thoughts get. Fear plays a large part in my insomnia because I fear for what awaits me in dreamland. My dreams have not been the best for the past few months. Honestly speaking, I’ve been having nightmares. To the point where I wake up screaming in my sleep.
My five year old woke me up with this afternoon because I was screaming while we tried to lie down for a nap. I have tried natural sleep aids, tea, tiring myself out during the day…nothing seems to work. My doctor prescribed Seroquel 50mg to help stabilize my mood, along with Depakote (yip-freaking-dee), fight depression, and help me sleep. But honestly, if I take one more pill for one more thing my head is going to explode. I am a freaking walking Walgreens. I’m sure in a 1,000 years after the apocalypse and they come across a sample of my feces, they’ll be shocked by the number of medication one person could have in their system. I’m sure my poop will be a living species of its own. Sheesh! It’ll be in a museum titled, “The 21st Century Creature Formed From Prescription Medication Epidemic”. Ugh!
I just want to scream, but then my kids are sleeping. So I’ll just let out a loud grunt, “GRRRRRRRRRR”.
Anyway, this is my personal hell. I may not have my kids being torn away from me, but it doesn’t make my struggle any less real or fragile than anyone else’s. So I don’t want to hear anyone’s crap. This is hard, dammit! I’m doing the best the I can with what I can. Take it or
leave take it.
Peace. Love. Happiness in Jesus.