Agoraphobia, Anorexia, Anxiety Disorder, Bipolar Disorder, Bulimia, Depression, Schizophrenia, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Panic Disorder, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and many many more. These are just a few common mental illnesses that affect individuals all over the world. In fact, one in four adults, or approximately 57.7 million Americans, experience some mental health disorder in any given year. Mental illnesses affects all different demographics and does not discriminate against age, race, religions, or income.
Unfortunately, there is a great negative stigma that comes along with mental illnesses. This stigma affects confidence that these mental disorders are real health conditions. Just like cancer and diabetes, mental illnesses are medical conditions that result from an imbalance in the brain. These conditions cannot be overcome through sheer willpower and are not the result of personal weakness. Unfortunately these negative stigmas have brought about a sense of shame, which keeps people from sharing their stories.
Well, I refuse to be ashamed of my story. But it hasn’t always been that way…
Growing up I was always an anxious child. I sat out during field day because I was nervous I would mess something up and get made fun up. I sat on the side during birthday parties because the noises and people made me uncomfortable. I was certainly not a deprived child and I actually had a pretty normal childhood. In elementary school, and even in middle school, I had trouble sleeping in my own room. It made me nervous to be in there alone in the dark. So up until 8th grade I slept on the floor in my parents bedroom. It was around then that my mom started taking me to therapy to find out the real reason behind my fears. After a year or so with my psychologist, we chalked it up to general anxiety and moved on. I was sleeping in my own room, so there was really nothing to worry about. However that all changed my sophomore year of high school. I was sitting in Spanish class when a boy in my class proceeded to throw up all over the door. It didn’t seem like a big deal in the moment, but that single event was just what I needed to tip off a long, hard battle with panic disorder. Going home that night, all I could talk about or think of was that boy throwing up. I remember pouring a glass of water out on the kitchen floor and explaining to my mom that that is what is sounded like when the boy threw up. My mind was obsessed and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The next morning I told my mom I wasn’t feeling well and I stayed home from school. This pattern continued for the next few days, until finally both me and my mother realized that there was again something deeper going on. So the next week I tried to go to school. And just like that my life changed. I could no longer go to class without having a major panic attack. I was frustrated because I didn’t know exactly what I was so nervous about, but I just knew that I couldn’t do it. I found myself shaking, sweating, heart racing, knees weak, ears muffled, and hyperventilating just from sitting in class. I called my mom and told her she had to pick me up. I didn’t know what was happening to me, but I felt like my world was crumbling around me. I tried to negotiate and go to one class a day, but even that became too hard. It was back to therapy for me, where I was then diagnosed with full blown panic disorder with agoraphobic tendencies. I was anxious in the car, in the grocery store, at school, and in my own house. I was living in a constant state of anxiety sprinkled with horrifying panic attacks. I hated myself. I hated my body and my mind for doing this to me. I hated being in my own skin. I stopped going to school and worked from a hospital homebound program. My teachers were very supportive, especially my math and chorus teachers. But it was still hard being away from my friends and not being able to lead a normal life. I thought I was actually going “crazy”. I would cry and cry and cry before therapy sessions, telling my mom “I don’t want to go to therapy! The only people who go to therapy are crazy people!”. And at the time, that really is what I believed to be true. With almost 2 full years of being hospital homebound, I returned full time during my senior year. This all happened 8 years ago, and yet I still remember it like it was yesterday. It was by far the hardest time in my life, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. Words can’t even being to explain the isolation, anxiety, fear, sadness, and anger I felt during that time in my life.
I wish I could say that I wouldn’t trade that time in my life for the world. But I haven’t quite gotten to that point yet. However I do know that I am who I am today because of what I had to go through. For a long time I was ashamed of my story. I was embarrassed that I was different, and society made me feel like I was “crazy”. But I wasn’t. In fact, I was far from it. I was strong and I made it through something hard. Does that make me crazy? No. So I tell my story with pride. My personality, my thoughts, feelings, struggles, and victories are all shaped by what I have overcome, and I wouldn’t be the person I am today without my struggle with a mental illness.
So if you are struggling with a mental illness, any mental illness at all, please don’t be ashamed. Your struggles are molding you to become a better person. To be more tolerant and understanding and empathetic. And stronger. And you will get through it. Although it may seem hopeless and never ending, like it did many times for me, there is always something to look forward to and hope for. Things do get better. And although you may feel like it, you are not alone in your struggles. There are 57.7 million Americans struggling with a mental illness right now! So don’t be afraid to ask for help. We all need help sometimes, especially when there is something going on with our health. You are important and you matter, and you are worthy of help, just like a person with cancer or diabetes. So don’t let a stigma define you. Define yourself and show others that you are more than an illness. Show them that mental illnesses aren’t a sign of weakness, but rather a sign that you are full of strength. And in the words of Shantel Van Santen, “I encourage you to share your story, because you have been given a gift. The gift of a voice. So honor it and use it for a positive change. Use it so that others might feel inspired by your strength and know that they’re not alone. We all struggle. We’re all human. We all feel things. And it doesn’t matter if we’re male or female; what age, religion, sexuality, job, or walk of life. It’s universal.”
Don’t be afraid to be who you are. Because who you are is exactly who you are meant to be. Whether you are currently struggling or have struggled in the past; you are strong, there is hope, and your illness does not have to define you.
Showing posts with label panic disorder. Show all posts
Showing posts with label panic disorder. Show all posts
Friday, March 23, 2012
Monday, March 5, 2012
Starving the Monster
Today I heard something that really resonated with me. “Fear is food for anxiety. And it can’t live forever if you don’t feed it.” Back in high school, when I was having a lot of panic issues, my counselor once said to me “Panic is a monster that is taking over your life. And every time you don’t do something or don’t try something out of fear, you are feeding that monster and helping it to grow bigger and stronger. You have to stop feeding the monster. Starve the monster”. I always understood where people were coming from when they said that to me, but it still didn’t make things any easier. There were times in my life where I was sure that the monster had won and that I was going to spend the rest of my life in my house feeding the stupid monster. But luckily I had people in my life who were willing to help me and who were willing to push me to starve the monster. I found this e-mail from one of my teachers who helped me greatly through that time in my life and helped me to fight the monster. It said:
So whatever you might be dealing with, just know that it might get harder before it gets easier. And “starving the monster” is tough. But in the end it is so worth it.
“I am sorry it didn't work out for you to attend the concert, but no hard feelings, OK? I have never had to deal with anything like this myself, but I know it is very real. I spoke with Mr. Walen today, and he told me something that I believe he told you as well. He mentioned that dealing with this everyday is like having a monster under your bed, and you either feed it and make it grow, or starve it to death. I think that is an excellent analogy, and I hope you can find the strength to begin applying it the next time you're faced with anything that you feel you just can't do. I'm hoping to get by and see you either tomorrow during 2nd period, or Friday, and I want you to also know that the visit will be totally on your terms. If I need to only stay 10 or 15 minutes, that's fine. I know I've told you this already, but I care a lot about you, and want to see you get well. I haven't given up on you, and I will fight for you, and I am happy to do whatever I can to help you.”
So whatever you might be dealing with, just know that it might get harder before it gets easier. And “starving the monster” is tough. But in the end it is so worth it.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Courage
This was my past. This is a part of who I am. This has made me who I am today.
http://brooketoffolon.blogspot.com/2011/12/overcoming-past.html
And this is true.
Yes, I have fallen many times in my life. We all have. We've all made mistakes and fallen short. We've all been scared and let it affect our choices. That's not what's important. What's important is that we get back up and try again. That we learn and grow from the mistakes we make. Because that is true courage. So go ahead and make mistakes. Take risks. Don't be afraid to fail. Because failing isn't as scary as we make it out to be. But not trying, not getting up again, that's what should scare us.
http://brooketoffolon.blogspot.com/2011/12/overcoming-past.html
And this is true.
Yes, I have fallen many times in my life. We all have. We've all made mistakes and fallen short. We've all been scared and let it affect our choices. That's not what's important. What's important is that we get back up and try again. That we learn and grow from the mistakes we make. Because that is true courage. So go ahead and make mistakes. Take risks. Don't be afraid to fail. Because failing isn't as scary as we make it out to be. But not trying, not getting up again, that's what should scare us.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Overcoming the Past
I wrote my previous blog entry about overcoming the fear of the unknown and it really got me thinking about my past. I talked about going off to college and how big of an accomplishment that was, but I failed to mention my biggest and greatest accomplishment. I often overlook this time in my life as an accomplishment, because in the moment it was anything but. However, looking back on it, the hardest thing I have ever had to overcome turned out to be the most rewarding. I can confidently say that I am a better person for overcoming my past. So here’s a little backstory:
10th grade was by far the hardest year of my life. And now that I’m passed it I sometimes forget how hellish and awful it was. And as hard and awful and terrible and miserable as it was, I consider overcoming 10th grade to be one of my biggest successes in life. Yes, I know. 10th grade isn't really fun for anyone, but my year turned out a little bit different. You see, in 10th grade, at the age of 15, I was completely house-bound. It started off as the occasional panic attack and turned into full blown agoraphobia quickly. I couldn’t leave my house without having a panic attack. I feared everything. I was “hospital homebound” and did my school work from my couch. I got scared when my friends came over. I got scared being in the car. I got scared when the phone rang, when my mom left for the grocery store, when someone on TV coughed, and pretty much every waking minute. It was miserable. I remember trying to go to school and having to leave before I even made it to the parking lot. I remember trying to go to after school tutoring, not because I needed the help, but because I needed the exposure. I remember the awkward stares I would get from other students who wondered why I never came to class anymore. I remember hearing rumors that I had cancer. But most of all I remember thinking I was literally insane. I was uncomfortable and scared at all times. Can you even imagine how exhausting that is? It was the lowest point of my entire life. I didn’t know if it would ever stop, if I would ever feel normal again. I remember sitting on my parents bed crying and thinking “I just want to go home.” Keep in mind I was physically home. I just remember in my head “home” was always a place where I could be comfortable and safe and I certainly wasn’t feeling that way at home. Luckily I had some pretty amazing people in my life. Although I was too scared to have friends over, my friends still called everyday to check in on me. My chorus teacher, Mr. Horrell, would stop by on his way home from school sometimes to make sure I was doing okay. (He would always call first to make sure I was up for a visitor). He even let me come sit in his office to take the 10th grade writing test. He was so good with me and made sure that I knew that I could come to him at any point. And I certainly did once I started going back to school. Once I figured out medications and the agoraphobia turned into occasional panic attacks, I made my way back to school, slowly but surely. I took 2 classes each day instead of the usual 4. And I had passes to get out of all of my classes if I needed to step out and regroup. There were quite a few times when I needed to step out of class, and I always knew I could go to Mr. Horrell’s office and sit. I could leave any class I was in and go interrupt and he would stop whatever class he was teaching to give me the key to his office so I could go sit. I remember my mom would stay with me at school. She would drive me to class and then sit in the car while I was in classes, because I was too scared to be stranded at school and have her leave. I remember the herbal medicine she made me try. 2 drops of some disgusting bitter “natural anxiety relief” that I had to put under my tongue. I remember a lot of things about that time in my life. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. I lost a lot of things that year- experiences, time, laughter, fun. But I gained some important things too. I learned that I am stronger than anything life throws my way. I learned that almost anything is possible with a good support system. I learned that courage can be hard, and at the end of the day, if you tried, that’s all that really matters. And I learned that when things look hopeless, there is always still hope. Always.
So I will leave you with a note that my chorus teacher, Mr. Horrell, wrote in my yearbook a few days before I graduated high school. (I still have to grab the tissues when I read it).
June 8th, 2007
With much admiration and respect,
Mr. Horrell
10th grade was by far the hardest year of my life. And now that I’m passed it I sometimes forget how hellish and awful it was. And as hard and awful and terrible and miserable as it was, I consider overcoming 10th grade to be one of my biggest successes in life. Yes, I know. 10th grade isn't really fun for anyone, but my year turned out a little bit different. You see, in 10th grade, at the age of 15, I was completely house-bound. It started off as the occasional panic attack and turned into full blown agoraphobia quickly. I couldn’t leave my house without having a panic attack. I feared everything. I was “hospital homebound” and did my school work from my couch. I got scared when my friends came over. I got scared being in the car. I got scared when the phone rang, when my mom left for the grocery store, when someone on TV coughed, and pretty much every waking minute. It was miserable. I remember trying to go to school and having to leave before I even made it to the parking lot. I remember trying to go to after school tutoring, not because I needed the help, but because I needed the exposure. I remember the awkward stares I would get from other students who wondered why I never came to class anymore. I remember hearing rumors that I had cancer. But most of all I remember thinking I was literally insane. I was uncomfortable and scared at all times. Can you even imagine how exhausting that is? It was the lowest point of my entire life. I didn’t know if it would ever stop, if I would ever feel normal again. I remember sitting on my parents bed crying and thinking “I just want to go home.” Keep in mind I was physically home. I just remember in my head “home” was always a place where I could be comfortable and safe and I certainly wasn’t feeling that way at home. Luckily I had some pretty amazing people in my life. Although I was too scared to have friends over, my friends still called everyday to check in on me. My chorus teacher, Mr. Horrell, would stop by on his way home from school sometimes to make sure I was doing okay. (He would always call first to make sure I was up for a visitor). He even let me come sit in his office to take the 10th grade writing test. He was so good with me and made sure that I knew that I could come to him at any point. And I certainly did once I started going back to school. Once I figured out medications and the agoraphobia turned into occasional panic attacks, I made my way back to school, slowly but surely. I took 2 classes each day instead of the usual 4. And I had passes to get out of all of my classes if I needed to step out and regroup. There were quite a few times when I needed to step out of class, and I always knew I could go to Mr. Horrell’s office and sit. I could leave any class I was in and go interrupt and he would stop whatever class he was teaching to give me the key to his office so I could go sit. I remember my mom would stay with me at school. She would drive me to class and then sit in the car while I was in classes, because I was too scared to be stranded at school and have her leave. I remember the herbal medicine she made me try. 2 drops of some disgusting bitter “natural anxiety relief” that I had to put under my tongue. I remember a lot of things about that time in my life. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. I lost a lot of things that year- experiences, time, laughter, fun. But I gained some important things too. I learned that I am stronger than anything life throws my way. I learned that almost anything is possible with a good support system. I learned that courage can be hard, and at the end of the day, if you tried, that’s all that really matters. And I learned that when things look hopeless, there is always still hope. Always.
So I will leave you with a note that my chorus teacher, Mr. Horrell, wrote in my yearbook a few days before I graduated high school. (I still have to grab the tissues when I read it).
June 8th, 2007
Brooke, First of all let me say something that 3 years ago I wasn’t sure I would, WOW- YOU MADE IT!!!! It is remarkable, excuse me…you are a remarkably courageous and determined young lady. I am so proud of you for fighting with everything you have. Greatness is measured in different ways, and often confused by those taking the measurement. I would argue that your “fight to finish” is a TRUE mark of greatness, and ranks along side any award or acknowledgement that is given at Saturday’s graduation ceremony. I don’t think I would have done as well as you if faced with the same obstacle!! Rarely in a teacher’s career does a student impact the teacher’s life in a way that changes his approach to teaching and life for that matter, the way you have impacted me! I am a better person and teacher because of you. I appreciate your influence on my life. I have grown to value and trust your opinion and keen sense of judgment. Thank you for always being honest- unfortunately that’s a value that few people possess. I am confident you will continue to succeed because of the qualities I have already mentioned, and because of the ones that I have not. It’s nice to know that you are my friend. I am sad this aspect of our friendship has come to an end, but I am looking forward to the many great experiences yet to happen! Best of luck next year- I KNOW you will be fine! Thank you for 4 GREAT years!
With much admiration and respect,
Mr. Horrell
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