Author: Aimee Eddy

There are different kinds of medications that treat various types of mental illness. There are antidepressants which are used to treat depression, anxiety, and some kinds of personality disorders. Then there are antipsychotics used to treat schizophrenia and sometimes bipolar disorder, and there are mood stabilizers used to treat people with bipolar. These medications help stabilize the chemical imbalance in the brain that causes mental illness. They relieve the symptoms of the illness and can often help people feel so much better that they think they’re cured, when they’re not.

It’s important to know that medication helps treat the illness but doesn’t cure it. There are several people I have known who were put on medication and once they felt better, they stopped taking the medication. Before they knew it, they were falling back down to the bottom of that hole again. One friend told me she was feeling good, so she stopped her medicine. She said she no longer needed it. I told her she should never stop her medication unless she’s told to by her psychiatrist. In a week she had a break down and ended up in a mental health hospital.

When I reached recovery and started to be able to think clearly, function, and feel happiness, I didn’t stop my medication. I kept on it and am still on it. Why? I know that the reason I’m doing well is because of the medication. Antidepressants helped me think clearer, helped with my fatigue, helped lift some of my sadness, and helped me to be able to function in everyday life. Once the medication helped, I added therapy to learn coping techniques, to learn ways to change my thinking, and to learn to love myself.

I was able to put all my effort into therapy to further my recovery because the antidepressants helped me be able to think more clearly. I learned that medication is just part of the process of reaching recovery. Even though the medication helped me feel better, I still had lots of work to do to climb out of that hole.

I knew a woman who was going to therapy and taking medication. She started to talk more; she was smiling and laughing. She was doing good. Then she told me she was doing so well that she quit therapy and her medication. She said she didn’t need it anymore. Before I knew it, I watched her fall backwards, deeper into her illness. She became suicidal and had to go back on her medication and restart therapy. What she didn’t realize was she was doing well because of the medication and therapy.

You don’t have to be in therapy your whole life. There is a point in your recovery process that your therapist will tell you are doing well enough that you will no longer needed it. Unfortunately, medication is something that you will have to always take. It’s the same as a person diagnosed with high blood pressure and put on medication for it. Without it the blood pressure would just go up again. To keep it at the level it should be, the person will have to continue taking the medicine for probably the rest of his or her life.

     Medication for mental illness is the same as medicine for other illnesses like high blood pressure. It treats the symptoms of the illness, stabilizing it, but not curing it. I’ve been in recovery for many years. I no longer go to therapy, but I take my antidepressants everyday and I’m sure I will be taking them the rest of my life. They are my life saver. I’m doing well and able to cope with rough times because of my medicine.

     You may think to be on antidepressants or antipsychotics for the rest of your life is like a death sentence, but it’s not. It’s the light above the dark hole, it’s the hand pulling you up, and it’s the reason you can live a good life. It’s the reason you are alive and well. Antidepressants and antipsychotics are not a death sentence, but a life sentence. By life sentence I mean they give you your chance to live and function well in your life. They give you a chance at reaching recovery and finding happiness.

The reason you are feeling well while you’re on your medication is because they are working. If you stop they will no longer work and you’ll fall hard, to the rock bottom of the hole. Never stop your medication on your own and never stop them just because you’re doing well. Remember you are doing well because of your medication.

Because of my antidepressants I am living a good life. I have a happy marriage, I have a good job, I published a book, and I am truly happy. Medication helps me stand in the light of recovery.

Sorry there is no blog post this week. I went on a mini vacation with my husband and forgot my computer. There will be a post next week. We had a fun time though. I hope you all are well and working hard towards the light of recovery.

I have dreamed of having a book published since high school. Through some ups and downs I wrote a book, and last Sunday it was published on Amazon. That day I ordered 100 copies of my books for my book launch party on August 17. I was flying high like a bird soaring above the treetops. Amazon said my books wouldn’t arrive until between August 8 and 10. It seemed so far away. Could I wait that long to hold my very first published book? Holding my book would make my dream coming true even more real.

At times in my life, I thought the dream of publishing a book would never come true. When I was at the bottom of the dark hole of my mental illness, I couldn’t write. I gave up on my dream while I struggled with the darkness that engulfed me. Then when I did reach recovery, I tried to write a book, but I failed. I feared my dream would never come true. I thought maybe I wasn’t meant to write a book and that I could only write short stories. For a while I lost hope in my dream. I gave up trying to write a book and focused on short pieces of writing.

I was told by several people when you’re struggling with mental illness dreams are impossible to fulfill. This flared the determination in me that got me through school. In school, teachers and classmates said I couldn’t read or pass classes on my own. This stirred up a determination to prove them wrong and I did. I decided if I could prove them wrong in school, I could do the same as an adult with mental illness.

In college I wrote a column called “Childhood” for a local newspaper about growing up around the family garage. For years I wanted to do more with the stories about the garage days. At a writers group called Pennwriters, I told them about my column and possibly turning the stories into a book. They thought it was a great idea. I thought about the family garage and how it helped me deal with the bullying I faced in school. Before I knew it, I had an idea for my book. I just needed to write it.

For four years I wrote my book. I relived the bullying I faced at school and had to take breaks from writing because it hurt too much. Sometimes I went for a week or two without writing. Then I struggled with self-doubt. I thought my writing sucked and there was no way I could a write my book. I wanted to quit several times. My husband encouraged me and insisted I keep writing. Before going to bed at night, he’d instruct me to write and when I came to bed, he’d ask me how many pages I had written. Each time I threatened to give up, he reminded me that I’m not a quitter.

I fought with my self-doubt, I struggled with old wounds being opened, and I relived memories that I thought I had buried, but yet I continued to write and grow as a writer. After four years I finished my book, but then came rewriting and editing. Rewriting and editing took another year. My dream seemed like it was miles away. After the editing was done, there were beta readers who read through the manuscript looking for errors which involved more editing. Then I thought my book was ready and I sent it to be formatted, but the lady formatting it found more mistakes and I had to have it proofread. Having my book published dangled before me, but still seemed out of reach.

Last Sunday my book was finally published on Amazon and my dream came true. To make my dream final would be to hold my own book in my hand. That would be a two week wait, or so I thought. On Saturday I called my husband on my break. He told me he had exciting news for me: my books had arrived. I couldn’t wait to finish my workday.

As soon as I got home, I opened one of the boxes and picked out one of my books. It was the most amazing feeling I have ever felt. I felt like I was in a dream. I was holding my book, the book I wrote with my name on it. I can’t explain how wonderful that felt.

In school they said I would never be able to read, and I’d end up on welfare, and now I’m a published author. I was told with mental illness I wouldn’t be able to make my dreams come true, and yet I did make my dream come true. Dreams can come true no matter what disability you have or illness you are struggling with. If you have a dream, don’t let anything stand in your way of making it come true.

Because of my determination to make my dream come true, I’m dancing in the light of recovery.

     Bullying happens every day within our school systems and on social media. It happens to kids who are different, who have disabilities and who are a little awkward. Children in school are under a lot of pressure. Everyone is fighting to be accepted. You either fit in or you don’t. If you don’t fit in, you often become a victim of bullying. Children picking on their peers are not kids being kids. It’s a form of abuse. It is the same as spousal abuse or child abuse. It can be verbal or physical. Whatever form it is, it’s abuse, peer abuse.

     When I was in school very few people had computers at home. They were big and information was saved on a floppy disk. We were just learning about the internet and there were no cell phones. We didn’t text or surf the web by a small phone you could put in your pocket, but bullying was just as prevalent. In the modern world, bullying happens on social media sites such as Facebook and Twitter and through texts. Children are abusing each other using the internet. Words typed are just as painful as words said. They leave wounds no one can see.

     Words hurt. Words break hearts and souls. Mean things said or typed over and over leave wounds on the heart and soul that no one can see, ones that could take years to heal. They destroy a person   from the inside out. It can lead a person into mental illness and even to suicide. Bullying can also be more than just things said or typed. Some children get beaten up each day, shoved in lockers, knocked down and have things thrown at them. I had rocks thrown at me in my own yard.

     The bullying I faced led me into depression, Borderline Personality Disorder, anxiety and self-injury. It took most of my adult life to mend the wounds the words my classmates and teachers caused. It wasn’t just words either. It was cologne poured down my back, it was gum thrown in my hair, and it was pushing and shoving and much more. It took years to rebuild my self-esteem, to learn to love myself, to change my way of thinking and everything else bullying ruined. I even thought about taking my life and at one time made unsuccessful attempts.

     There are children of all ages committing suicide because of what they face each day at school, on the internet and even walking home from school. Some children just can’t handle it and see that there is no other way out. They suffer so bad;y nothing can bring them comfort. They have been beaten down so awfully that they can’t find enough strength to fight to go on.

     Can you imagine day after day being put down, finding lies about you on social media, being beaten up just because you’re different? It’s just like a wife being belittled continually by her husband or beaten by him. It’s the same thing. It’s abuse. Weather verbal or physical it is very harmful

     Take a stand against bullying. Can you just stand by and allow children to be abused at the very place they are supposed to feel safe and by their own peers? Stopping bullying can start with the parents. Teach your children to accept all children and to stand up when they see someone being put down or hurt by others. Teach them to sit with that kid who sits by him or herself at lunch, to say something nice, to tell someone if they witness others being picked on and to get to know a person inside out. If you’re not a parent you can help by sharing your own experiences through writing, videos, talks, and you can support stop bullying causes.

     Let’s all step up and say stop the abuse. Let’s tell the bullies to stop and be kind.

We all deal with stress in our lives. Working, paying bills, keeping up with housework, raising children and more are all stressful parts of being adults. Sometimes extra stressors are thrown unexpectedly in our lives, and we must work our way through them. For those with mental illness, stressors can worsen the illness and turn into a depression episode, anxiety attack, or a major breakdown.

Before the fourth of July, I sent my book to a fellow author, Susan Gable, to be formatted and the rest of the cover to be finished. I didn’t realize how much goes into preparing my book for publication. Susan has worked hard on my manuscript, sending me files to check over for errors. When she sent me the first version, I was so excited to see what a wonderful job she did, I didn’t notice a few errors. There was a glitch Susan had to work on, but it looked wonderful. Once the glitch was fixed the best it could be, I noticed the dedication and endorsements were missing from the beginning. So, I told Susan. She fixed that. Then my website was missing in the About the Author section. Susan fixed that.

While formatting my memoir Susan noticed a typo and suggested I find someone to look for more errors. I contacted someone I knew who does editing, but I couldn’t afford her prices. I know her prices are well worth the work she’d put into it, but times have been hard. We’ve been just able to pay our bills and put food in our cupboards. I saved money for my book launch party by selling my woodburnings, but I didn’t have enough to pay someone to look for typos.

What was I going to do? I couldn’t afford to pay someone to proofread, and I wanted my book to be good. I worked so hard on this book and I didn’t want it to be a flop. I started stressing about whom to ask and what to do next. With stress comes obsessive worrying, anxiety, struggles sleeping, depression episodes, and break downs.

One night I hurt the daughter of a good friend unintentionally by posting something that upset her. When I tried to apologize, it backfired on me and she blocked me on social media. I didn’t think what I posted would hurt someone. Matter of fact when I’m in an emotional episode I don’t think I just react. I then called my friend, leaving a message that I screwed up things with her daughter and I pretty much said she be better off if our friendship were over, and we never talked again. I left the message in tears while my emotions were taking over. I was too emotional to think clearly and to take in consideration of what I was saying and doing.

Luckily my friend Cheryl knows me well and what I’m like during an emotional episode. She was able to explain things to my friend and we were able to fix our friendship and put my irrational phone call behind us.

I posted on Pennwriters’ online group looking for someone to help with proofreading, but I got no answer. This made my stress grow. My friend and fellow memoir writer, Amy, brainstormed on whom we could ask. Amy suggested a friend of hers who did a beta read of my manuscript. I contacted her. She agreed and said she could have it done in ten days. Was ten days enough time to get my book uploaded to Amazon and 100 copies printed for my book launch party? My chest ached. I felt like my throat was tightening up. Tears threatened to fall, and I got sick.

My niece is in town from North Carolina. She’s staying with family in my hometown a half hour away. On my way to get her I ran into a traffic jam. My chest throbbed and my throat tightened more. My stress grew. I screamed as loud as I could to release the tension. When I picked up my niece, I forced my worries to the back of my mind and focused on her. My niece and I went to lunch, hung out and talked. This helped calm my nerves. Later that night I kept myself from thinking about my book by doing some woodburnings.

Then my proofreader contacted me that it would take longer than ten days to finish my manuscript. My stress spiked. I lay in bed struggling to sleep. If it took more than ten days, my book would not be able to be uploaded and copies sent to me in time for my book launch party. My worry about having it done in time just kept growing.

I told my husband Lou everything was hopeless. My book would never be done in time. I screwed up. I should have planned my book launch party further ahead. I should have listened to Amy and have someone proofread it one more time before I sent it for formatting. I screw everything up. Lou wrapped his arms around me and said things will be fine. Amy said pray and believe God will work things out.

I messaged Susan asking her what she thinks I should do then I went to work. I felt like crying at work. I wanted to go home but knew I couldn’t. I went to the rest room and peeked at my phone Susan said if my proofreader did up to chapter 15, she would do to chapter 16 and on. My worries calmed. I finally had a solution. I was able to relax and finish the rest of my day at work. After work my husband and I went to a festival and to dinner.

Keeping busy doing other things than focusing on my book helped me cope with my stress and out of control emotions. By coping I kept myself from hitting the bottom of the hole. I struggled, but I found ways to help deal with the many feelings and symptoms of my stress. If you’re dealing with stress, find ways to cope and to work your way through it without hitting the bottom of that dark hole of hopelessness.

Coping with my stress, leaning on my support system, and faith will help me deal and cope with the stress of getting my book published and other stressors in my life. Because I continue to cope, I stand in the light of recovery determined to keep above the hole.

2 c. Therapy                             4 c. Acceptance

3 c. Positivity                          1/2 lb. Courage

4 Tbsp. Medication                       1 lb. Perseverance

1 bunch of Support                       5 c. Self-love

1/2 lb. Determination                    1 Ray of light                                                  

     Turn your heart and soul to 100%. You must put all of yourself into the recipe for recovery to bake fully. Allow yourself to heat up while you put together the ingredients. You must open your mind and understand you have an illness. Pour acceptance into a large bowl. Once you have accepted you have an illness, you must seek help by telling someone and finding professionals who can properly diagnosis you and give you what you need. Mix in therapy and medication.

     To fight mental illness, you must dig deep inside yourself for strength and endurance. Mental illness is evil, and you must stand tall to fight it. In a separate bowl, melt courage and determination together. Once it’s melted, mix it into the big bowl.

     For recovery to rise properly, you must push forward no matter what. Life may get in the way, you may slip a few times, and you may feel like giving up, but you must go on. Mix in perseverance.

     In order to find wellness, you need friends, family, and groups to lean on, to listen to you, and to encourage you. You can’t do it alone. Turn to anyone whom you can trust and depend on. Chop up support and put it in the bowl.

     For years you have seen the worst side of everything. You became blind to the good. For recovery to bake properly, you must change your way of thinking. Mix positivity in and stir well.

     You are no good to anyone if you do not treat yourself well or like yourself. You have neglected your needs and you have learned to hate yourself inside out. You must change this and start to look at yourself in a better way. You need to take care of your needs and nurture yourself during the rough times. Pour in self-love.

     Mix all the ingredients with a mixer on low speed until it becomes doughy. Take the dough out of the bowl and gently knead in until all the lumps are out. Put it on a sheet and allow it to bake. As it bakes it will slowly rise over time into a loaf of recovery. Once the loaf has risen, you have taken control of your illness. You have finally made your own recovery, but recovery takes continuous work. To keep recovery from deflating, you must take care of it daily. You must hold on tight when the toothpick of illness threatens to poke a hole in all your hard work. Now that your recovery is baked, dance on top of it within one ray of light.

     Add more ingredients in if you need to help bake your own recovery. Recovery is a beautiful thing, but only stays full for as long as you’re willing to sprinkle it with a new self-esteem and lots of love and maintain it with antidepressants and self-care. Enjoy your recovery. Dance in the light with pride.

A good father is a special man who loves his children endlessly and gives unconditionally. Not every man is a good father. Some fail at that role or were never meant to be a dad in the first place, but there are many men who take up the role as if they were born for it. A dad’s role is important in a child’s life and even in an adult’s life. A father never stops being a dad no matter old a person gets. He never stops being a hero.

My dad is one of those men who took on father hood as if he were born for it. When we were kids, he worked long hours at the family garage, but still found some free time to teach us, play with us, and love us. My brother, younger sister and I went to work with my dad at the family garage. Going to work with Dad was special to me. It was a chance to spend extra time with the man who worked hard for his family, a man I admired. On his free time, he swung us in circles, gave us piggyback rides, played kick ball and whiffle ball with us, and tickled us. He taught us to work hard for what we want and to cherish what we have no matter how small it is.

My dad is the type of man who would give what very little he has to help someone in need. He is also the most hardworking man I know. Whenever my husband and I have a problem with our car or home, my dad is willing to help. He has repaired my cars even before I met my husband. In my college years my cars broke down just about anywhere between my home and college which were a hour apart. My dad always came to my rescue. He hooked a chain from his pickup to my car and towed me home. He put engines, transmissions, carburetors, and so on in my cars. I can’t count how many engines he put in my cars. Even though I am now married, he has still offers to do repairs on my cars although the repairs are more minor than my younger years.

There isn’t much my father can’t do. He can fix cars, lawn mowers, private airplanes, and do home repairs and remodeling. He’s a very talented man. He put windows in our homes. One window in our living room we bought was bigger than the old one. My dad worked hard at making it fit. He had to take out some bricks, but he made it fit beautifully. My dad and his friend repaired our garage roof and when I was preparing for back surgery he and his friend put a new hot water tank in our basement. When I had breast cancer, we got a note from the township about our sidewalk being uneven. My dad and his friend fixed it.

When we got our home, the tiles in our kitchen floor were broken in spots. As the years went by the tiles broke even more, sticking to our feet and shoes. Before we knew it, we were tracking pieces of it around our home. Just recently my father offered to put a floor in our kitchen and we gladly accepted. I had popped a joint out in my hip and was off work when my dad and his friend decided to put the flooring in. My dad even let me pick out the flooring. The two men worked hours on end for a week to put in a new floor. They found several holes under the old flooring and even had to patch those up. In the end they put in a beautiful floor.

I admire my dad for how hard he works, for his endless kindness, for his ability to do many things, and his loving heart. I may not always agree with my dad, but I look up to him. He supports my writing and loves me without end. He’s a special man and God made him to be my father. I thank God for him each day. His determination and kindness have inspired me to give to others and to fight for what I believe in.

No matter how sick I got with my mental illness he never turned his back on me. He may not have completely understood my illness, but he has always been supportive and encouraging. He was and is always there when I need him. My father is more than my dad; he’s my hero. I thank God for him each day.

Because I have such a wonderful dad who is always there for me, I stand in the light of recovery, a well-loved woman with strength and determination.

When you know a family member, co-worker, or friend with mental illness, it can be hard to know the right thing to say. Mental illness is one of the hardest illnesses for people to understand, and this sometimes leads people to say the wrong things. Often, they mean no harm by the things they say, and they don’t even realize how hurtful their words are to the person struggling. It’s a lack of knowledge and sometimes stigma that leads to this. Knowing what not to say can help prevent hurt feelings and anguish for the person who is struggling.

I have compiled a list of things not to say to someone struggling with mental illness. Here is my list.

• Take a happy pill. Antidepressants and other medications for mental illness do not automatically make you happy. They help people struggling manage their symptoms, work towards recovery, and stay in recovery. They are very important medications and not a joke. Telling people who are fighting this illness to take a happy pill is an insult. They depend on their medication to make it day by day.
• Snap out of it. People with mental illness can’t just snap out of their illness just like a person with cancer can’t just wish it gone. It takes a combination of therapy, hard work, and medication to reach recovery. It’s a hard road. It’s not a matter of snapping your fingers and it’s gone. It’s very frustrating and angering to be told to just snap out of it, because if it were that easy the person wouldn’t feel so bad.
• Think happy thoughts. If happy thoughts could cause mental illness to go away, therapists and psychiatrists would be out of a job. When you’re sick, it’s hard to think happy thoughts, and when you do it doesn’t make those sad feelings disappear. Mental illness is a sickness, and like any other illness you must have treatment and medication to help manage it. This is very frustrating and hurtful to someone who is sick. If it were that easy the person wouldn’t be struggling.
• What do you have to be depressed about? People with depression, can be sad and not even know why. It’s caused by an imbalance of chemicals in the brain. A person with this illness could have a wonderful family and life, and yet be stuck in deep sadness. There is often no reason other than it’s an illness that the person has no control over. Being told this makes a person feel like no one understands him or her and it’s very hurtful.
• Have you been in the looney bin? A mental health hospital is not a looney bin. It’s a place to treat people who are very sick with their mental illness. It’s like any other hospital that treats the sick. Many who go in the mental health hospital need extra care and help to deal with their sickness. It is sometimes the safest place for them when their illness sends them down an endless hole. Calling a mental health hospital the looney bin is an insult and it hurts.
• Watch funny movies. If a person is depressed, watching a funny movie will not make the sadness magically go away. The person could spend endless hours watching funny movies and still feel depressed. A person with this illness often can’t even laugh at such movies. It takes help from professionals for the person struggling to get better. This too is an insult. It’s like you don’t take the illness seriously or the person.
• Get a hold of yourself. When someone with mental illness is emotional and falling apart, the person can’t just get a hold of himself or herself. The person can’t control the emotions. They are too overwhelming and it’s better for him or her to let them out then hold them inside. Once the emotions get flowing, it’s nearly impossible to stop them. Being told this is like telling them they are not allowed to feel and that is very upsetting.  
• It’s not a big deal. People with mental illness see things differently than others. What may seem like a small problem to you may be a huge problem for people who are struggling. To them it is a big deal, and they just want to be taken seriously. It hurts to be told the thing that is a big deal to them isn’t. It makes them feel like no one is taking them seriously.
• It could be worse. For a person struggling with mental illness, it seems like everything is hopeless and nothing could ever make them feel better. To you, things could be worse, but to people with mental illness, they feel like nothing could be any worse then what they is going though. Telling them it could be worse makes them feel like you don’t understand how bad they feel.
• It’s all in your head. Mental illness and the feelings people are struggling with are not something they made up. It’s not just in their heads. It’s very real and the racing thoughts are no joke. Telling people with mental illness that it’s in their head is telling what they are feeling is not important, and you think they are faking. That hurts deeply.

Instead of saying the wrong thing to your loved ones, research their mental illness. The best thing you can do for someone with mental illness is to listen, give comfort, be supportive, and encourage the person to get proper help. If you can’t think of the right thing to say, then stick to reassuring statements such as these and others

• “I’m here for you.”
• “You’re important to me and many others.”
• “We’ll get through this together.”
• “You can get through this.”

I have had people say the wrong things to me many times. Their words hurt me deeply. Sometimes they didn’t even realize they hurt me. Educating people allows me to help others and myself. Educating those around me about the things not to say helps me stand proudly in the light of recovery.

Many don’t understand what a learning disability is. It means a person has a difficult time comprehending and processing information. A person with this disability must find different ways to learn. Those with this disability have high intelligence; they just learn differently. Many mistakenly think of a person with a learning disability as being intellectually challenged. Intellectually challenged people have sereve impairments that make social, intellectual, and self-care difficult. They have lower than normal intelligence. They are two different kinds of disabilities that are often mistaken as one.

I have a learning disability. I read at a slower pace than normal, I have a hard time with basic math, I struggle with memorizing things, and sometimes I don’t remember what I read. This disability made school very difficult for me. My teachers and classmates thought it meant I was dumb. Teachers pushed me through elementary, but when I got to high school, I had to discover ways around my disability to pass my classes.

I couldn’t keep up with notes the teachers put on the chalk board, so I spent hours reading through my textbooks, writing out my own notes. When it came to studying for tests, I wrote a question on the front of an index card and the answer on the back. I spent hours reading over those index cards until I could repeat the answers out loud without looking. I stressed before my tests. Passing was everything to me. So many said I couldn’t pass school on my own, and I had to prove them wrong. This laid a big burden on my shoulders. Just barely passing wasn’t good enough for me. I had to pass with high grades even if it meant giving up fun time to study.

I fought mental illness and struggled with my learning disability to succeed in school. I pushed through endless nights of studying and struggling to understand homework. They told me in elementary I couldn’t do anything on my own and it became my determination to prove them wrong. When I graduated from school, I made the honor roll, was inducted in the Honors Society, graduated with five scholarships, and had a hidden hero speech given about me. I was also hitting the bottom of the dark hole of depression.

In college I couldn’t keep up with the reading assignments because I couldn’t read fast enough. I enrolled in recording for the blind and they put my textbooks on tape. Listening to them helped me complete my assignments and made it easier for me to remember what was read. I was at the bottom of the hole of my mental illness. Getting out of bed, keeping food down, sleeping, and concentrating were hard. That coupled with my learning disability, made college seem impossible, but I managed to push through and pass my classes with high grades.

When I took a year off from college, I started working at a grocery store. I first worked in the bakery, then moved to the front end as a bagger, and then became a cashier. Back then we had to remember produce codes. A fellow employee put the codes on index cards for me. Each day I took the cards to work with me, and at home I read over them. In time I began to remember them. The registers add up the groceries, but when I accidently entered the wrong amount of money I was given, I had to figure out the correct change to give out. I can’t add or subtract in my head. I started carrying a calculator with me to work for situations like this.

I’ve worked hard to rise above my learning disability while fighting mental illness. I struggled with self-doubt and hopelessness, and I mentally punished myself when I made a simple mistake. At work and I rarely spoke to anyone. I drowned in my negative thoughts. My co-workers encouraged me to talk. Before long I had friends and a social life. I rose above my mental illness and learning disability to be a cashier.

August will mark twenty-seven years at the grocery store. I have regular customers who wait in long lines to see me. One customer teases me that I’m cheating on him with my husband. I have trained several cashiers, and I mentor a friend who has vision loss who is working at the same grocery chain but in a different location.

The girl who others said couldn’t read and was dumb has an associate degree and is about to get a book published. The person who thought her life was hopeless and planned her death is happy and filled with hope. Determination helped me find away around my learning disability and helped me reach recovery from mental illness. It has also given me the ability to assist others. Through it all I have grown into a stronger person who doesn’t take the word “can’t” as meaning “unable to do something,” but as meaning I can do anything I put my mind too.

We all need this type of determination in our lives. It’s time to stop saying, “I can’t beat this disability,” or “I can’t recover from my mental illness,” and just give up. It’s time to say, “I can.” I can work around my disability, I can reach recovery from mental illness, and I can be happy. Rise up against the odds and push forward.

My determination has gotten me far in my life and will continue to push me further into a bright future. In August I will be holding my published book saying, “I can, and I did succeed.” I rise above my learning disability and mental illness to stand in a bright light of determination and strength.