Blogs
Last night, I watched Crazy for Love a very bad movie wherein a man, Max, is put into a mental hospital for attempting suicide for the tenth time. When he’s there, he glimpses a very ill, schizophrenic, Grace, whereupon he instantaneously falls in love with her. She too is determined to kill herself. His life’s mission then is to “make her better”. To “make her happy”. Having found his new mission in life, he no longer wants to kill himself.
Well, pin a rose on his nose.
When most people think of anorexia, they think of weight loss. But often the first clue isn't losing weight, it is a child failing to gain expected weight.
Today is one of those days where if I am asked to do one more thing for someone, I am going to lose it. I am a people-pleaser, which means I have a really hard time saying no. So when I am asked to help out, I am almost always going to reply with a big grin and a "sure thing," even if I don't want to.
Today I feel stretched so thin. I feel like I am just not capable to do all of it. But I stress that if I break commitments, then I will make someone mad at me. So, either way, I lose. Stress is there no matter what. What happened to good old laid back Fridays?
This week I did an interview for the HealthyPlace Mental Health TV show. We discussed what it is to have bipolar disorder, the impact, what works and what doesn't.
There was a time when my wife didn't send me out to the store. I couldn't be trusted not to get lost for two hours in the magazine section. All those glossy covers with their reams and reams of scintillating prose… Some of them didn't even have bathing suit beauties. Ah, the blissful halcyon days of the early 90s before I discovered the Internet. But surely there was a way to shop without getting lost.
I am crazy. I tell this to people in my personal life. It’s not a secret. I figure there’s no point in trying to cover it up; it’ll come out eventually. The approximately 20 scars on my forearms rather give away that something is wrong.
But people really don’t like the word “crazy”. In fact, most often, what people say to me is, “no, you’re not!”. Well, actually, I am. I'm bipolar and I’m crazy.
At first your child's new habits seem normal, even admirable: a diet to shape up or new health-conscious habits. Then it seems to be getting extreme: refusing to eat what the family is having, and questioning every ingredient. One day, you realize this isn't a phase, this is an eating disorder, and the eating disorder can get very ugly, very fast. As a parent, it's important to support your child and not to demean them for their mental illness. It's important to separate your child from the eating disorder.
An ADHD meltdown isn't pretty, but it happens. Not often for me, and yesterday was not normal. But I had so much to do and my ADHD brain kept sabotaging me. I usually laugh to keep my spirits up, but yesterday I had an adlut ADHD meltdown instead.
Amanda_HP
If you're wondering what it's like living with bipolar disorder, or a serious mental illness, here is one of the most illuminating lines on the subject that I've come across:
"It explores the difference between a sick brain and a mind left trying to cope with it."
It was written by Natasha Tracy, describing the focus of her new Breaking Bipolar blog on HealthyPlace.com.
It is not hard to find someone willing to treat an eating disorder patient. Most therapists, social workers, doctors, and dietitians, with no particular specialty in the topic, will accept patients with anorexia, bulimia and other eating disorders. I've heard of a chiropractor, a massage therapist, and an astrologist taking charge of this life-threatening illness as well.
As parents and loved ones, I think it is really important that we do everything we can to make sure patients get care from clinicians who specialize in eating disorders. Further, it is our job to make sure these specialists are using evidence-based treatment methods.
I read this book many years ago, just as I was entering the turmoil of remembering, questioning and doubting myself all the way (as I'd been covertly taught over a lifetime). I happened to mention to my two sisters one day, "This is so strange but I've been diagnosed with PTSD." Both my sisters surprised me by responding, "Me too."
THEN I happened upon an old book manuscript that my now deceased father had written (not published), wherein the protagonist was obviously based upon himself and he rapes his "fiancee," who had my unusual name. Yes, truly.
Then I made myself look at the peculiar memory I always had where he violently threatened me but somehow I had never been able to recall what came before or after the episode. I had to admit that was a bit strange.
The pressures and powers to forget sexual abuse are great, both in family and society. In fact, I've come to the sad conclusion that the vast majority of survivors never really deal with their childhood wounds (a neglect for which there are always repercussions).
To critique an encouragement of people trusting their intuition in such matters is really getting the prescription dangerously wrong.
Thanks!