The story behind the stories

[Kaonohi]

Re: The story behind the 'stuff...'

Being in control of yourself like that, through therapy, medication, meditation, growth, whatever, is a mighty powerful skill to develop.

Oh yes. We are many, we are legion here who know what you talk of

It's like a choice between living, being true and recognizing truth, vs. posing and pretending. Accepting the parts that are unpopular or that we don't like, or that others don't like, and then just doing our best - sometimes busting butt to get there, but accepting responsibility for ourselves and not using it to make others look bad so we can look good.

Sometimes it takes lots of searching and experimenting; all I can say is, 'keep on keeping on - never give up.'

[Leo Lakio]

Re: The story behind the SSRIs

It is good to know that anything can be overcome as long as you never give up and believe that there's always more options out there.

Sometimes, "overcoming" consists of accepting that there is a part of you that, while troubling or societally "bad", existed to serve you in some capacity, possibly for your own survival through a challenge. But there may come a time that you have to take that aspect of yourself, bottle it up, label it, and put it on a shelf somewhere in your soul. You can say to it: "you served me well, you got me through xxxxx, but I don't need you anymore. I will put you here as a part of me, and not reject you as something bad, because you are me."

Being in control of yourself like that, through therapy, medication, meditation, growth, whatever, is a mighty powerful skill to develop. That's one of the things I most admire about Lynn - she's been through it, she recognizes it, she takes responsibility, and she developed the skill set to not only survive but to provide service to others. I don't know her personally yet, but I suspect Susie has done her share of it as well (and there are many others here on HT who I sense know exactly what I am talking about).

[Kaonohi]

Re: The story behind the SSRIs

I embrace my Illness wholeheartedly. It is who I am. I've had to work harder and everytime someone has told me it couldn't be done, I've focused and made it shua to reach my goals and proved them wrong. There are NO excuses, I am living proof.

Reconsider: It is only PART of who you are.
It is good to know that anything can be overcome as long as you never give up and believe that there's always more options out there. You also have to want to win. And it helps to be able to forgive yourself.
Winners are the ones who don't quit!

K

[1stwahine]

Re: The story behind the SSRIs

No feel alone. We are all mentally ill, especially those who insist they are NOT mentally ill! That is their mental illness, steeped in denial!

K

heheheh

Who said I felt ALONE?

I embrace my Illness wholeheartedly. It is who I am. I've had to work harder and everytime someone has told me it couldn't be done, I've focused and made it shua to reach my goals and proved them wrong. There are NO excuses, I am living proof. Yes, there is the darkside. Those who suffer are the loved ones of the afflicted. The "episodes" do happen. The shouts, throwing of things and personal hygeine goes kaput.

I don't live a LIE.

I live to tell others so they know the TRUTH.

Lynn Vasquez-Dela Cerna aka Auntie Pupule

[Kaonohi]

Re: The story behind the SSRIs

Yes, I have Mental Illness. With Medications, I live and can function day to day.

No feel alone. We are all mentally ill, especially those who insist they are NOT mentally ill! That is their mental illness, steeped in denial!

K

[1stwahine]

Re: The story behind the SSRIs

Exactly. We need to be examined and prescribed as individuals, and gently and carefully.
We also need to be properly diagnosed!!!
Likely I had problems with antidepressants because (duh) I was NOT depressed! The psychiatrists were just stupid.

K

Wow!

I've had my share of stupid psychiatrists.

Over the years, I know what medications works for me. I've tried many times to do an experiment and do without. It's always a disaster after the first week. The demon in me comes out. I no SXIT You! Chemical Imbalance is my illness. Yes, I have Mental Illness. With Medications, I live and can function day to day.

Love and ALOHA,

Auntie Lynn

[Kaonohi]

Re: The story behind the SSRIs

I'm so sorry you had to live with that for so many years. For me, I would have been lost long ago without SSRIs. They make it possible for me to function on a day to day basis. My life has improved 100% after finally giving in and going on them. And I hate to think of the years I wasted, thinking I didn't need them! But you're right- they're not for everyone. And not every type is for everyone. It's a matter of trial and error sometimes. I have managed to find the right combo and am so happy to be...well, able to be happy.

Exactly. We need to be examined and prescribed as individuals, and gently and carefully.
We also need to be properly diagnosed!!!
Likely I had problems with antidepressants because (duh) I was NOT depressed! The psychiatrists were just stupid.

K

[surlygirly]

Re: The story behind the stories

You poor dear. Know you are not alone.

I went to see a Veteran's Administration doctor because I was concerned about gaps I had in my memories.

He said, "Oh, that's just depression," and proceeded to put me on an anti-depressant (SSRI). Five years of various diferent anti-depressants and a colllection of anger outbursts on one, blackouts on another and various other nasty side effects but no relief from memory gaps, I want to a private psych who examined me and said, "You do NOT have depression, you have anterograde amnesia brought on by (he specified a certain accident I went through); SSRIs are like poison to your condition."

Maybe they* help some people, but they wreck the lives of others!

* (both the psychiatrists and the pills they prescribe.)

So: Question Authority! Get a second or third opinion. Do without if you can.

K.

I'm so sorry you had to live with that for so many years. For me, I would have been lost long ago without SSRIs. They make it possible for me to function on a day to day basis. My life has improved 100% after finally giving in and going on them. And I hate to think of the years I wasted, thinking I didn't need them! But you're right- they're not for everyone. And not every type is for everyone. It's a matter of trial and error sometimes. I have managed to find the right combo and am so happy to be...well, able to be happy.

[Kaonohi]

Re: The story behind the stories

my doctor tried to get me to take some little pills for depression. I refused for a long time and then finally accepted, took two, and promptly found myself in an ambulance, having fallen over at the Thursday market.

You poor dear. Know you are not alone.

I went to see a Veteran's Administration doctor because I was concerned about gaps I had in my memories.

He said, "Oh, that's just depression," and proceeded to put me on an anti-depressant (SSRI). Five years of various diferent anti-depressants and a colllection of anger outbursts on one, blackouts on another and various other nasty side effects but no relief from memory gaps, I want to a private psych who examined me and said, "You do NOT have depression, you have anterograde amnesia brought on by (he specified a certain accident I went through); SSRIs are like poison to your condition."

Maybe they* help some people, but they wreck the lives of others!

* (both the psychiatrists and the pills they prescribe.)

So: Question Authority! Get a second or third opinion. Do without if you can.

K.

[1stwahine]

Re: The story behind the stories

And for some, (cough, cough) they never get better.

Taking medications is a given to be functional.

I know.

I am one of dem.

Got to go work. Have a great day.

Auntie Lynn

[SusieMisajon]

Re: The story behind the stories

ha ha ha

Good morning Susie Dear.

Glad you got out. But for others, psychiatric hospitals is a place to get better.

Auntie Lynn

Good evening, Auntie.

I can understand the need for psych wards. I was in the one at Hilo hospital at one time because of issues with pain from a car accident and an addiction to painkillers....I'll never forget yelling at the doctor who gave them to me and never even whispered about that they might be addictive. If he'd have told me, I would not have taken even one.

It was an interesting time for me, and there were many people there who really needed to be there. I made friends with a few of the other 'clients' and keep in touch to this day. One boy painted a beautiful picture of fish under the ocean for me, which is hanging here on a French wall. And while I was there I used my creative time to make pantyhose dolls and dress them in hospital fabric gowns....I still have one of them.

I wonder what happened to the others? The lady with the teddybear, the old man whose family cleared out his house while he was in there, the English lady who had just come in 'for a little break', the man who lost his job as a chef because he had to take care of his kids while his wife was there, the jock who tried to be best friend pals with the shrink, the young boy who kept trying to kill himself, and his mother who was sick with worry about her only child, the loud guy that I never saw who stayed the entire time in the padded room, and so many more...

All I really remember from that time are the names of the zombie meds they gave me to get off the painkillers and try to deal with the pain in another way...Navane and Cogentin, if I remember correctly (it's been almost 30 years). I was such a zombie that my own mother was afraid of me. Little by little I got weaned off and one day !POP! the effect went away and I was no longer a zombie.

And the pain? It happened just as the shrink said it would...I'd either get used to it over the years or it would go away. I'm still not sure which one happened.

[1stwahine]

Re: The story behind the stories

ha ha ha

Good morning Susie Dear.

Glad you got out. But for others, psychiatric hospitals is a place to get better.

Auntie Lynn

[matapule]

Re: The story behind the stories

There are probably people in psychiatric hospitals that are there by accidents such as these..

Mahalo ("perhaps" in Tongan), but 99.99999% of them aren't. Matapule had a close encounter of the Third Kind with one (naked woman, 74 y.o., running down the street) about 6 months ago. As a result, I can tell you it is probably a good idea to ALWAYS wear a bra when young!

[SusieMisajon]

The story behind the stories on my blog is...as well as me being a right busybody....I was having some problems (arson, expropriation, child custody, etc...the usual in this day and age) and my doctor tried to get me to take some little pills for depression. I refused for a long time and then finally accepted, took two, and promptly found myself in an ambulance, having fallen over at the Thursday market.

Once I got to Orthez and the hospital, they took off my tshirt and hooked me up to no end of machines and then left me for four hours...with no tshirt or hospital paper gown. I have to explain that I don't wear a bra, so there I was, tits hanging out and all, wondering what was going on. There was a man in the bed next to me that they put tubes into at both ends...he pulled them out and they tied him down and redid the tubes, so I wasn't about to make a peep about even a paper gown, just in case.

Four hours later, a man came in and said, "Madame, I am the Psychiatrist (with a capital 'P'), can you tell me what you were doing wandering around town half naked? I insisted to him that I had come in with a red Waialua High School tshirt, but he didn't believe me and began to ask questions...the usual ones, age, birthdate, the ages and names of my kids, etc...with me thinking all the time that if I messed up on just one response, I'd be put away for probably forever.

And then...whew!...he pulled open a drawer and there was my red tshirt! He looked so disappointed as he said that he guessed he'd have to let me go home, unless I wanted to stay for a few days. No thanks. As I was waiting for the taxi to take me back to Salies, I asked the nurse at the desk what on earth had happened, and she said that the only thing they could think of was that, as I'd come in just as the morning shift wasbeing replaced by the afternoon shift, one team had forgotten to tell the other one about me and where my tshirt was, or even that there had been a tshirt.

There are probably people in psychiatric hospitals that are there by accidents such as these.

So anyway, I went back to my doctor and told him that I was taking no more little pills, and too bad if he thought I was depressed. And so he suggested that I write. Ha! I hadn't written for twenty years, even so much as a letter. I had hardly read a newspaper for twenty years. No TV for twenty years, either. It wasn't that I was a total social recluse, I just had other things to do....kids, donkeys, garden, fireplace...

He said write about the things I was always talking about. The neighbors, the town, the Mayor. So I got a computer and relearned all about sentence structure and paragraphs and punctuation...like riding a bicycle, you don't really forget (although someone once said to me that my punctuation gives them whiplash).

I was going to rant and rave about the Mayor and his proposed ringroad, or the attitude of the Gendarmes when my house got vandalized and burned, or the really xenophobic people in small French towns. But somehow, that didn't seem too dignified, so I just told the human stories about the people that live here. There's enough human stories to go around, and there is a skeleton or two behind each closed door. And it makes me love the town all over again.

I'd never admit it to my doctor.