Author: Aimee Eddy

WHAT’S GOOD ABOUT MENTAL ILLNESS?

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   Mental illness is a dark sickness of the mind. When you face it from day to day, it seems as if there is nothing good about it. What positive side can you see of an illness that plagues your soul and mind? When you are suffering with mental illness, it seems like an evil curse. However, there is always a positive side to every heartache and trouble that we face.

   While struggling with mental illness, I thought God was punishing me. I felt like my life was a disaster and my illness was a living hell. The hole of mental illness was my dungeon. How could I see anything good about it? Living with a blanket of darkness deep within my very being seemed more like a curse.

   I read Romans 8:29, “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose,” and found a new way to view my sickness. In other words, God doesn’t let us face anything without a reason. There is a good side or reason for all our struggles. God has a purpose for everything.

   I had to find recovery to see there is something good about suffering with this illness. Mental illness gave me strength I didn’t know I had: Strength to face and fight a very horrible illness. Once I realized recovery was possible, I dug down into myself to find the ability to fight for recovery. This new found strength has helped me face many trials and tribulations. I figure if God can give me what I need to deal with my illness, I can handle whatever life throws my way.

   Suffering with mental illness has also molded the person I am. It has made me sensitive to others’ needs and problems. I am sympathetic to others who are struggling or are facing rough times. I like to listen to others and give them some encouragement. It has also made me proud of the person I am. I’m not afraid to admit who I am and what I have faced to get to where I am.

   Having this illness also gave me a purpose. Everything I learned through years of therapy and studying my illness has given me enough knowledge to write this blog. By writing this blog I can help others, teach others and maybe change some people’s views about mental illness. Facing this illness has given me the ability to speak out through my writing. I learned that the only way to take a step towards changing the stigma is by writing about it and telling my story. I’m not afraid to tell people I have mental illness. I believe God allowed me to deal with this illness so I can tell my story and what I have learned to the world.

   It’s hard to see, but God has a purpose behind life’s ups and downs. He never gives us anything we cannot face with his help and usually these things we go through lead us to something better. If I never had mental illness, I would not be writing this blog. If I wasn’t too sick to go on to a four year college I would have never made the friends I now have or met my husband. God has a plan for our lives and it may not be the same as we have planned, but God’s always knows what’s best for us.

   Look at your illness and see what good you can find lurking behind it. Find what purpose God has for your struggle. Maybe he wants you to write about it or talk about it. Maybe he wants you to use it to help others. Maybe he wants you to volunteer at a mental health association. Find the positive side to your illness. How does it change you? In what ways has it helped you? What inner ability has it uncovered for you? Then use the goodness of your illness to reach for recovery and stay in recovery.

   Now that I know God’s purpose behind my battle with mental illness and the good side to it, I stand proudly in his light.

LAUGHTER IS NO CURE

Published on by Aimee Eddy2 Comments

   Laughter can be a form of therapy for depression, and it can help with anxiety, but it is no cure. You can’t cure mental illness by going to a comedy show, telling jokes, or watching funny movies. At times, it can be nearly impossible to even laugh when you are deeply depressed. Laughter can be therapeutic. It can be relaxing and it also sheds a small amount of light into the darkness, but it doesn’t take the sadness away. Mental illness is a chemical imbalance and can only be treated, but not cured.

   While struggling with depression after my break up with my ex-boyfriend, my therapist moved away, and before she left, she referred me to another therapist. My whole life seemed to be in shambles. I told my therapist how horrible I felt. I confided in her, that no matter what I did, I felt this overwhelming sadness. It seemed as if my life were hopeless. She looked at me and said, “Go home and watch a funny movie and you’ll feel better.”

   It was all I could do to keep myself from jumping out of my chair. I thought of everything I wanted to say, but the words would not part my lips? If it were that easy, why the heck am I seeing you? How can a funny movie make me feel better? I just told you I am depressed, and that’s all you have to say? Aren’t you supposed to help me? I went home that night even more upset.

   After a couple of sessions of spilling my heart out and my therapist telling me to do things that would make me laugh, I decided to find someone else who could help me. I met with a counselor through a program at work to help me find a new therapist. After telling the counselor about my therapist, he asked for her name. To my dismay, the man turned out to be her husband! But he did direct me to another counselor who could help me.

   A friend at work started laughing when I told her about the situation. I found it embarrassing, but she pointed out the lighter side to it. With convincing, I soon was able to laugh about the whole thing. Humor showed me a different side to an embarrassing situation. It took my friend time to get me to laugh, but it did feel good. It helped ease my depression slightly and showed me a different way to look at a situation I thought was awful.

   Many times while struggling with my illness, I would call my friend Cheryl in tears. I felt like I had fallen to the deepest part of my hole. I’d cry over the phone, telling her how I wanted to injure and end my life. She would tell jokes, make funny comments, and do whatever she could to make me laugh. My heart was sunken into the dark hole of my depression and at first I couldn’t find the strength to even smile, but Cheryl did not give up. She talked to me for hours until I finally laughed. Laughing helped me relax enough to sleep.

   See, laughter is not a cure for mental illness, but it can be therapeutic. It’s hard to find humor in anything when you’re depressed, but give it a try. It can help you see things differently and help you feel better even for a little bit. A Funny movie will not make your illness go away, but laughter helps.

   Now when I’m down and a person tells me to watch something funny, I tell them, “Thanks. I will. It’s part of my therapy, but not a cure.”

   With medication, therapy and laughter, I have found the light.

THE SHAME OF SELF-INJURING

Published on by Aimee Eddy3 Comments

 

   At one point or another we feel shame for some stupid thing we did or said. Shame is a natural human feeling, but it’s an awful feeling that makes us want to hide from the world. Self-injury brings on feelings of shame. These feelings are sometimes due to the stigma attached to self-injury. They are also brought on by past trauma. We sometimes think the abuse we suffered in the past was our own fault and the injuring is, in a way, a punishment we believe we deserve. Our own wounds and scars produce feelings of shame for what we have done to ourselves and shame from questions from curious observers.

   When I self-injured, I would rip into my skin, and once the high was gone, I was left with a wound. How would I explain my injury to others? People always ask questions when they see a cut, a bandage, or some kind of injury. I couldn’t just tell them I did it to myself. They would judge me. They would think I was crazy or even dangerous.

   I was judged throughout my childhood. Not too many understood what a learning disability was. I was marked as a retard who would never amount to anything. I struggled with the labels and stigma that were attached to my disability throughout grade school and into high school. I didn’t want to face judgment again as a young adult, this time related to my self-injury. I had worked hard to rise above the prejudice I faced in school and I didn’t want to fight a similar battle again.

   When I injured, I wore long sleeves to hide my injuries, or I cut in places where I could cover them up easily. I never cut myself deep enough to cause scars. Scars raised too many questions that I did not want to answer or lie about. I also didn’t want the constant reminder of my own stupidity. The shame of my wounds was hard enough to deal with.

   After every time I hurt myself, anguish, guilt, and shame tore at my insides. My thoughts raced as my stomach twisted. What if my mom walks in while I’m in the shower or changing shirts? What would she say? What would she think? What if a friend noticed a bandage peeking out from under my shirt? What excuse could I give him or her? I couldn’t let them see what I had done. Would my self-injuring prove I was a loser? I couldn’t be judged again. I wouldn’t allow myself to face my school years all over again.

   I hated myself for injuring, but I didn’t know any other way to deal with my internal pain. With each cut came shame, secrets, and lies. One day my mom saw cuts on my arm. I lied to her and told her I had fallen into some thorn bushes. I was too ashamed to tell her, “I did it to myself because I hurt so bad inside and I need help.” If I would have stood above my shame and told the truth, my mother could have found me help sooner.

   By educating people about self-injury through our own stories, we are taking the steps to reduce the stigma surrounding self-injury. With less stigma, maybe injurers will be more comfortable telling others what they are doing and that they need help.

  Don’t let shame keep you from getting the help you need to stop hurting yourself. Find a therapist, a good friend, or a family member to confide in. When I finally turned to my mother and told her what I was doing, she went out of her way to find me a therapist who could help me. She never judged me the way I feared she would. Instead, she embraced me with love.

   Facing my shame and reaching out for help is what led me to the light and allows me to dance within the light.

  I found my information about shame from self-injury in the book, The Scarred Soul: Understanding and Ending Self-inflicted Violence By Tracy Alderman, Ph.D.

The Devastation Of Grief

Published on by Aimee Eddy6 Comments

   Grief from a loved one or pet departing our world can bring even the strongest people to their knees. It’s a very powerful emotion that can be overwhelming. We want to hold on to those we love, human or animal, forever, but unfortunately no one lives forever. When a person or beloved pet dies, our hearts break, sadness settles in, and we become lost. These powerful emotions can send someone with mental illness in a spiraling down fall into the deepest depths of his or her hole, and it can threaten to send a person in recovery back into darkness.

   Four days before Saint Davids Writers conference, my husband woke me up before five in the the morning. Our dog, Elli, was walking sideways and could barely make it up the stairs to our porch. I brought her up to my bed. As the morning progressed, it became harder and harder for her to move her back paws. By the time a veterinary office opened, she couldn’t move her back paws at all.

   We drove Elli to a special veterinary hospital in Pittsburgh with the hope they could help, but, to our dismay, there wasn’t much they could do. We had to make the decision to put her to sleep. My heart tore into pieces. Tears poured from my eyes like a flood. My husband and I tried to think of possible ways to keep her with us, but in the end there was no way we could save her without putting her through pain.

   To us, Elli wasn’t just a dog. She was our child and a comfort for my mental illness. Putting her to sleep was like taking the life of our own baby. Heartbreak, grief, anguish, sadness and anger gushed throughout me. Everything at home reminded me of her: her toys, her little shirts, her bone and so on. I’d wake up in the middle of the night crying. I begged God to wake me up from this nightmare. My little girl couldn’t be dead. This couldn’t be real. She was only four years old in human years.

   The sadness increased as I faced each day before the conference. I cried in the shower, I fell asleep on the couch crying while holding her collar, and I cried at our family’s Father’s Day picnic and at random times during the day. I felt like I was slipping back into the dark hole. I feared I might have to go back to therapy to deal with my grief. I felt hopeless. I thought of skipping the conference, but my husband refused to let me.

  Grief overtook me and I wanted to give up on everything. I wanted to give up on my writing, on fighting to stay well and going on with my life, but my husband encouraged me to fight. He continued to remind me how far I have come and how I could not let grief defeat me. He told me to go to my conference and not mention my loss or dwell on it.

  To cope with my loss, I turned to my friends, family and husband; I started journaling; I wrote a poem about Elli; I kept myself busy; I cherished my happy memories of Elli, and I went to the conference. The conference kept me busy and I didn’t have time to think about my grief. Coming home was hard, but with the grace of God I was stronger.

   I’m still grieving, but I’m working hard to cope and stay within the light. I’m planning a memorial for Elli, I journal about my feelings each day, I turn to my support partners for comfort, I remind myself about the positive things within my life, and I’m writing this blog.

  Staying in the light of recovery is important, and each day I take steps to face my sadness without slipping back into the hole of depression. Every day is a struggle, but knowing my doggie baby is in heaven free from pain and that she will live forever in my heart, helps me stand within the light.

FINDING THE LIGHT HAS MOVED

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My current blog Finding The Light at http://www.aimeeeddygross.blogspot.com, has moved to this site. For those of you who have not read  Finding The Light, I write about mental illness and the road to recovery. This blog is based on research I have done while struggling with Major Depression, Anxiety Disorder, Self-injury and Borderline Personality Disorder and my own personal experiences. This blog is also a teaching tool for friends, family members and many others who know someone with mental illness. It also teaches those who do not have an understanding of what mental illness is.

FINDING THE LIGHT

Published on by Aimee Eddy7 Comments

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I am not a professional in the field of mental health. All my post about mental illness come from what I learned through years of therapy and through research. Always confide in a professional first. My posts are only meant to give you suggestions, educate you and encourage you.