I Am Not A Demented Chameleon!

Do you remember back in the playground when the overweight kid got called “fatty”?  And the one who told some fibs was branded “liar”?  There were endless names that children named other children without a care in the world.  We (and yes, I probably was one of them too) didn’t know how hurtful those names could be.  Perhaps half the time we didn’t even know what the words meant.  We had simply heard them from others, and thought we’d give them a try ourselves.  I think it’s where the re-phrased “sticks and stones will break my bones but names will always hurt me” fits.  And yes, those names did hurt.

Today, I and all my friends who have Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) with me, got called names.  We were called  ‘demented chameleons‘.  Apparently Borderlines (like Sociopaths) they said, are ‘demented chameleons‘.  The original name was tossed at sociopaths (as the site was focussed) and my thoughts about that are another issue   I just got angry when I saw someone throw Borderlines into the fire, calling us the same name, with probably no thought at all.

It’s something that I can walk away from.  I’m used to it.  This type of name-calling happens for people with BPD all the time sadly.  Actually it happens to all people with mental illness all the time.  I can walk away and that’s what I did.  The person who labelled me a ‘demented chameleon‘ probably doesn’t personally know anyone with BPD, and simply read it somewhere on one of the awful websites that set out to degrade us.  It is probably a combination of stupidity and ignorance… and so it deserves my walking way.

The difficulty I am left with though, is that ignorant comments like that get read by others, and believed.  It’s what builds up the stigma against both BPD and mental illness as a whole.  That’s what really gets my blood boiling.  How dare they blast me with their stigma but also contribute to the overall stigma that all of us with mental illnesses face.

This is my idea.  For each time I see such a combination of stupidity and ignorance, I need to post here, my opposing view.  Maybe it might not be the same people that read both accounts, but in my world one can still outweigh the other regardless.  If people choose to feed the world with negative views of me, then I can feed the world with the positive.  Does that mean you are going to be reading posts like this everyday?  No, that’s not my intention.  But when my blood boils, I need to speak out.

People with BPD are not ‘demented chameleons“.  If you stop to get to know someone with BPD you will find that actually we are beautiful people.  We are generally very caring people.  That’s part of our disease.  But we are not demented.  While we may change aspects of ourselves in how we come across to the world. we are not cynically one thing one day and another tomorrow.  Moreover that changing does not happen out of an intent to hurt and manipulative.  It is simply who we are as we battle with the internal struggle to own who we are.  It’s not easy having BPD, and name calling such as this doesn’t help us.

I suspect that most people have no idea about BPD.  The label tends to draw a blank expression on the faces of those who hear it.  BPD is  not well known (like say, Bipolar) and is certainly not well understood.  But I will not sit quietly and see myself and my friends named as ‘demented chameleons‘.  That simply comes from ignorance.

And now having said that, I walk away and breathe.  Frankly, the people who choose to live in such ignorance are missing out on you and me.  Emphasis on the missing.  I almost feel sad for them.

Ending on a lighter note… I have been called a ‘demented chameleon‘ but I’m still waiting for the ‘incorrigible’.

Image credit: Used with permission of Sue Fitzmaurice. Facebook: Sue Fitzmaurice, Author

Image credit: Used with permission of Sue Fitzmaurice.
Facebook: Sue Fitzmaurice, Author

PS.  Victory after Publishing.  I’m happy to see that the offending material has now been taken down

“You may encounter many defeats, but you must not be defeated. In fact, it may be necessary to encounter the defeats, so you can know who you are, what you can rise from, how you can still come out of it.” 

― Maya Angelou

Prescriptions And Privacy

About a month ago I saw my doctor, a General Practitioner.  It was just a routine appointment, although it quickly went from routine to fascinating when he said he had been wanting to talk to me.  The result was that after two long years of debating with him my need for adequate pain medication, he finally agreed to prescribe some.

He had previously refused, in spite of acknowledging the level of pain I was experiencing from fibromyalgia, because he believed that my history of mental illness would mean that I would get addicted to the stuff and my mental health would suffer.  One of my arguments was that my mental health was suffering already as a result of the pain I was in on a daily basis.  For some reason unknown to me that argument seemed to count for nothing to him.  It seemed that he didn’t accept it and so was only prepared to let me use over-the-counter medications.  The problem with those is that they did nothing to relieve the pain, perhaps because they are designed to treat a different kind of pain.  Our argument went on over the months.  When I felt I had some fight in me I would raise the issue, but basically he was quite clear that he would never prescribe anything stronger and more appropriate.

Let me say at this point (in case you’re wondering) the easy thing to do would have been to change my doctor.  For me though, that has some difficulties related to my past experiences of doctors.  More about that in a future post… when I’m feeling brave.

In the meantime, what changed my doctor’s mind?  It seems he felt a little backed into a corner.  At an earlier appointment he had arranged for me to have some short-term counselling to deal with a specific unrelated issue that had been affecting my state of mind.  It was only to be six sessions, which always seemed too short, but it was free and it was available.  I had no other options and so I took up the offer.

I had seen the counsellor twice when I went to my doctor a month ago.  That was what my doctor wanted to talk about.  He proceeded to read out to me word-for-word something I had said to the counsellor, on my second visit, about my doctor’s refusal to treat me with pain medication.  I was totally gobsmacked to find that the counsellor was giving my doctor a written report of my counselling sessions.  This was not something I had been told about, nor had I given permission for him to share the details of my sessions with anyone.

That was the end of the counselling sessions.  I guard my privacy carefully and I expect that when speaking to a counsellor or therapist that what I say will remain confidential.  I accept that if I am at risk of hurting either myself or someone else then the counsellor may have to call in emergency services but I could never accept that my doctor needed to hear word-for-word what I said when I was no where near being in a crisis state.

Well that might have been the end of the counselling, but for some reason (he didn’t explain) my doctor didn’t appreciate what I had said to the counsellor, gave me a small lecture about “keeping secrets from him”  (really?) and then handed me a prescription for medication to treat severe pain.  Weird.  It’s like he knew he was discriminating against me and was waiting to see how long he could get away with it.

I finally had my prescription!  Yay!  The only problem is that a month on I declare it totally useless for me.  If my body is anywhere close to horizontal, the medication will put me to sleep (which is one way of dealing with pain) but it does absolutely nothing to take away the pain.  Actually if anything the pain has been worse in the past couple of weeks.  I wonder is he just giving me sugar pills (unlikely, I hope) or just a very small dose?  This coming week I will be going back to my doctor to keep fighting.  I have tried that drug but now I need another.  The fight goes on.

Gotta love doctors (and counsellors) like him.

“Life isn’t as magical here, and you’re not the only one who feels like you don’t belong, or that it’s better somewhere else. But there ARE things worth living for. And the best part is you never know what’s going to happen next.” 

― O.R. Melling, The Summer King

Those In Peril On The Sea

Going back a few years, I remember having to sing hymns in high school Assemblies, three times a week.  The hymn that springs to my mind right now is this one (well, this is the first verse):

Eternal Father, strong to save,
Whose arm hath bound the restless wave,
Who bid’st the mighty ocean deep
Its own appointed limits keep;
Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee,
For those in peril on the sea!

I knew it was a hymn often related to the Navy, and I knew it was old (written in 1861) but I really had little idea of what the words we were singing meant.  Wikipedia tells me it is something related to Psalm 107 about those being shipwrecked and calling for God’s mercy.

My thinking is that those in peril on the sea had no hope, and the issue of being no hope (sometimes) has been weighing heavily on my mind this week.

It was two and a half years ago that a man collapsed in my house and I had to perform Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation (CPR) on him in an effort to save his life.  I did CPR for 20 minutes.  If you’ve ever had to do it, you will know that it is an extremely physical procedure and in that time I completely exhausted myself.  But I had no thought that there was no hope, and so I kept on.  At one stage I heard a rib crack, and I thought ‘Dad is going to be really sore tomorrow with his cracked ribs I’ve just given him‘.  Still, I believed there must be hope…    and so continued.

Eventually paramedics arrived and took over.  They continued to perform CPR for another 20 minutes before telling me (and my mother who was watching all this) that there was no hope.  He had gone.  My Dad had died.

What was I hoping for?  I guess that the treatment I (and then the paramedics) were giving him, would revive his heart and bring him back to the person I knew. To bring recovery. I wanted him to be saved from his ‘peril on the sea’.

Image credit: John Desjarlais/Wikipedia.com

 

Then I started thinking about hope and how it applies to mental illness.  It’s something I talk about regularly because I believe that having hope is what makes the difference to me getting through my mental illnesses.  For me, there is hope of treatment, both pharmacological and psychotherapeutic.  My main diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) is a little tricky because as it forms part of who I am (my personality) it can’t just be removed.  For me, management of the symptoms of BPD is what I hope for, and right now I am pretty much achieving.

But is there that hope for all mental illnesses?  Most of us at least have hope of management of symptoms , if not complete recovery but it’s occurred to me recently that actually that hope is not there for all illnesses.  What if there is no medication known to treat the illness, and what if therapy is not known to be particularly effective?  What if most sufferers actually aren’t motivated to seek treatment, even if it was available?  While again, I need to emphasise that I am not qualified in psychology or psychiatry, and so I am speaking of my personal thoughts rather than proven fact, it does seem that there is little hope for those people.  And I’m talking about four in every hundred people.

This fills me with sadness because it is hard enough to live with mental illness when at least someone can see hope.  It also fills me with sadness because people close to me are in that number and I desperately want hope for them.  My heart is also filled with sadness because these people perhaps struggle against the stigma of mental illness the most.  I haven’t named the illness purposely, because as a society there tends to be little, to no compassion for these people.  They’re hardly even treated as people.  But what if it were us?

It’s not my role, or my desire, to be dictating who we should, and shouldn’t feel compassion for but I will tell you my own way of looking at this.  Sometimes even people with mental illnesses (like me) do things that aren’t nice, aren’t acceptable and aren’t what healthy human beings would choose to do.  I don’t like their behaviours one little bit.  I don’t like it when innocent people get hurt.  There needs to be appropriate punishment when crimes are committed.

But that doesn’t take away from the fact that the people with mental illnesses who did these things are human beings.  Look at it another way.  We were all once innocent babies, who needed and deserved the best care in the world.  For a million reasons things can go wrong, but we all still need and deserve care and compassion.  They’re not monsters, but babies.  That’s my way of looking at it anyway.

I don’t write this post today because it’s a good topic to debate, but rather because it is something weighing very heavily on my mind right now… because of my personal experience.  I can’t quite get my head around there being no hope for someone’s mental health, mostly because I had to cling onto my own hope (and others’ hope for me) for so long (and still).  Maybe someone will tell me it doesn’t matter because the person probably isn’t motivated toward treatment anyway, but we all have families.  While they might not always be perfect families, at least some of them would want hope for us.  Some of them would not want us to be at ‘peril on the sea’.  And I just can’t accept that these people should simply be left at peril.

“There, but for the grace of God, go I.”

― John Bradford (1510–1555)

“It is often in the darkest skies that we see the brightest stars.” 

― Richard Evans

Celebrity Rating Of Stigma

What makes me any different from Stephen Fry?  Or any other celebrity who speaks out about living with mental illness?  So I’m not a celebrity, but after that, we’re all the same.

There has been a lot in various forms of media this week about Stephen Fry coming out about his suicide attempt in 2012. Describing himself as a victim of his moods, he said that he views his role as head of the charity, Mindis not to be shy and forthcoming about the morbidity and genuine nature of the likelihood of death amongst people certain mood disorders“.

I think it is great when anyone is ‘not shy and forthcoming’ about mental illness and suicide, but a celebrity adds the advantage of perhaps a wider audience than the rest of us. It got me thinking though…

Do we think it’s easier for Stephen Fry, or any other celebrity, to talk openly about their mental illness?  I ask, because sometimes I think that we rely too much on celebrities for this, saying “it’s easier for them”.  Somehow their money, and their status means they apparently have less to lose in being open.  I’m not so sure.

Stephen Fry has friends who might judge him, just like me.  He has family who might criticise him, just like me.  He even has a job he could jeopardize.  I don’t have that right now, but I have in the past.  He also has an audience through his employment.  They could judge him too.

It’s interesting because earlier this week I read an article that suggested that celebrities exposing their mental illnesses actually make the stigma  of mental illness worse.  Apparently celebrities give a warped impression of what mental illness is really like.  They don’t have the same fears as the rest of us about the repercussions of coming out.  Oh, and they’re “less seriously ill” than the rest of us.

It seems to me that celebrities can’t win either way.  If they speak out about their mental illness, they’re somehow judged as not having a clue what ‘real life with mental illness’ is like.  Somehow we think they have it easy.  We can think they have less to lose by coming out.  On the other hand, we rely on them to speak out, even when we’re too afraid to do it ourselves.

I don’t think celebrities have it easy with mental illness.  Anyone with a mental illness will go through hell, regardless of their social status.  Maybe Stephen Fry’s own version of  ‘hell’ is different from mine, but if I choose to judge his ‘hell’ as not being ‘good enough’ then I am no better than the people who judge me… or you.

Personally I believe that the more celebrities who come out about living with mental illness, the better.  But only in that they reach a much greater audience than perhaps you or I might reach.  What is really needed is for people from all walks of life to be speaking out about mental illness.  After all mental illness doesn’t discriminate in who it affects.  It affects  all types of people.

I think the lesson we need to take from Stephen Fry’s decision to share with the media is that we should share too.  No, I’m not saying you or I ring up the local newspaper or television station but simply sharing with one other person, maybe a friend or family member, contributes to destroying the stigma that all of us bear.  It doesn’t have to be a big thing.  Simply telling one person we trust makes a difference.

“But just as we can all agree on what is red, even if we will never know if we each see it in the same way, so we can all agree – can’t we? – that no matter how confident we may appear to others, inside we are all sobbing, scared and uncertain for much of the time. Or perhaps it’s just me.

Oh God, perhaps it really is just me.

Actually it doesn’t really matter, when you come to think of it. If it is just me, then you are reading the story of some weird freak. You are free to treat this book like science fiction, fantasy or exotic travel literature. Are there really men like Stephen Fry on this planet? Goodness, how alien some people are. And if I am not alone, then neither are you, and hand in hand we can marvel together at the strangeness of the human condition.” 

― Stephen Fry, The Fry Chronicles

Coming Out

If your first thought is that this post is going to be about either my sexuality, or someone elses, you’d be forgiven. Coming out used to be about being presented to society, and more recently it’s been about coming out of the closet. Usually the gay closet. I’m not about to do either of these but coming out is something that I’ve been thinking about in terms of mental illness.

Lately I’ve been reading a number of blogs and articles about the stigma of mental illness, and more specifically the stigma of Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). And each time I’ve finished feeling a little frustrated, like we haven’t quite hit the nail on the head yet in addressing this problem.

That’s why I started thinking about the way in which sexuality, and more specifically, different kinds of sexuality have been moving toward a more acceptable space in society. I know that there is a long way to go yet for the LGBT movement, to enable all people to feel able to be who they are without being stigmatized. I look forward to the day when we all accept people for who they are.

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Image credit: Hugh Young

It’s got me thinking. Head back nearly 30 years ago, in New Zealand there was massive reform going on to see homosexuality legalised in 1986. It was a huge reform which saw many protests and arguments. Actually it was much along the lines of the Marriage Equality legislation that is currently being debated in many countries (including New Zealand).

As a young, (I was 21) heterosexual I could have chosen to ignore the 1980’s reform. At the time I was very involved in a Christian church (as I had been all my life) where homosexuality was frowned upon.  Actually ‘frowned’ is not that word.  It was regarded as wrong, and as a sin.

For me though, at the time I was working in an office where my boss was an openly gay man, and a co-worker was openly transsexual. It gave me a completely different view-point than the middle-class, Christian upbringing I had.  At that time, to be open about your sexuality was a big thing.  Not only were my workmates going against the norm, they were also going against the law.

I have to admit that it wasn’t until I knew those people who I realised that actually we are all the same and that no one deserves to be judged by another.  At 21, I came to the conclusion that if they weren’t hurting anyone then why should they not be able to live freely the life they chose?  I accordingly voted for homosexual law reform.

What has this got to do with mental illness?  It strikes me that those of us who have mental illness need to ‘come out’ too.  I know only too well that when we’re dealing with mental illness, we’ve got more than enough to think about let alone taking on activism.  But it seems to me that it is exactly what had to happen (and still happens) for those of a sexuality other than heterosexuality.  They had to come out in order to see change happen in our society.  Maybe it’s not fair, but no one can deny that coming out has helped open society to different realities.

Image credit: GO LIME Awareness for Mental Health (GLAMH)

Image credit: GO LIME Awareness for Mental Health (GLAMH)

Maybe it shouldn’t have been the responsibility of the LGBT movement to change the thinking of society.  In an ideal world, I’d go so far as to suggest as this should have been a responsibility of all human beings.  The thing is though, that the LGBT movement were the one’s who had a vested interest in getting laws and attitudes changed.

In the same way it is those of us with mental illnesses who have the vested interest in seeing the end of the stigma of mental illness.  It seems to me that I will directly benefit if there is more openness and acceptance of mental illness in society.  For my neighbours who don’t have a mental illness the benefit is indirect.

I’d like to think that everyone in society would want this, but the reality is that there isn’t the same obvious benefit for them, as there is for me.  They’re not the one’s who have to think carefully who they admit their mental illness to.  I do though, and in that respect I am little different from my transsexual work-mate of 30 years ago.

I believe we have a choice.  We can sit and wait, hoping that one day society will magically change its attitude to mental illness.  Or we can think about speaking up.  Coming out about our mental illness.  Because the more people who realise that they have a friend, neighbour, family member or work-mate with a mental illness, the more acceptable it will become.

It doesn’t need to be a big deal.  I don’t think we need to list off all our diagnoses.  Actually I believe that would be as off putting as if we listed off everything that was physically wrong.  We just need to let people know that mental illness is exists, and is not the scary thing society has thought it to be. If we can admit to our friends that we have, say diabetes, then why not mental illness?  This is exactly what the LGBT movement has done… shown that different sexualities are actually normal.

I don’t for one moment think that this is an easy ask.  There is a lot at stake.  I’ve simply come to the conclusion that I can’t just sit and wait, hoping that one day things will change.  It’s not going to magically happen.  But if each person takes a small step, as the LGBT people have done over years, and as other minority groups have also done in the past, then we start to make a difference.

“We learned three crucial lessons from LGBT activists: We had to build a movement. We couldn’t be afraid to challenge our friends in power. And we had to give our cause a human face.”

 – Frank Sharry,  America’s Voice

“We have got some very big problems confronting us and let us not make any mistake about it, human history in the future is fraught with tragedy … It’s only through people making a stand against that tragedy and being doggedly optimistic that we are going to win through. If you look at the plight of the human race it could well tip you into despair, so you have to be very strong.” 

―    Robert James Brown

It’s All In Your Head!

What are we so afraid of?  Why does being told ‘it’s all in your head’ fill us with terror and completely write off any sense of being validated as a patient in need of help?

My view is that it’s all about the stigma of mental illness.  Somehow we’ve interpreted the message ‘it’s all in your head’ to mean ‘it’s not real’.  And we’ve done that for very good reasons.

I recently read an article about some work being done in understanding Gulf War Syndrome, which has many symptoms similar to fibromyalgia.  They have found that there is clear evidence of brain damage in sufferers, and one of the hopes is that in developing a test (a fMRI) to diagnosis the illness, it will lead onto the more accurate diagnosis of Fibro and Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.

Here’s a quote from that article:

“Many veterans have had difficulties getting benefits and treatment for a service-connected condition because doctors assumed they were either faking it or suffering from post-traumatic stress. “That’s a problem with all physicians — VA, military or civilian,” Baraniuk said. “If it doesn’t fall within their small world of known diseases, then the patient is nuts.”

It’s actually the same with Fibro (and I assume, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome), that patients are sometimes thought to be faking their symptoms, or somehow worse still, thought to be psychologically based… and therefore assumed to be somehow not real.

Maybe I have an advantage because I have both mental illnesses and physical illnesses.  I haven’t seen it as an advantage until now but it must be because I know that mental illnesses are real.  That means that I also know that if a doctor sees fit to tell me my physical illness is psychologically based, then I know that their opinion doesn’t remove my symptoms, and therefore my suffering, being real.

My Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) is real.  The Anorexia I struggled with for years was real.  The Depression was real.  The Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) was even real.

They were also ‘all in my head’.  They were all psychologically based, although some of them also affected me physically too.  No one could realistically deny that I was suffering, or that I needed real help to either fight, or manage these conditions.

To add to that, there were very real physical consequences to some of those illnesses.  For example, it is difficult not to accept that Anorexia, as well as being a mental illness, has profound effects on the body which need to be medically treated.  The fact that it is a mental illness does not take away the doctor’s need to treat the patient medically.

If those conditions that I have had or currently still live with, can be identified as psychological but still be treated, then does it really matter whether my fibro is seen as a psychological or a physical illness?  Personally, I don’t think so.  The symptoms are still there, as is my suffering.  Is it ‘all in my head’, or in some other part of my body?  In terms of how it is treated there maybe a considerable difference, but there isn’t a difference in terms of my very real need for help.

My opinion is that the problem with issues addressed by the quote above does not lie with the veterans who are suffering.  The problem is with the medical professional who deem it fit to view that something isn’t real if it is psychological.  Either way the patients with symptoms need help, but it seems too easy for doctors to cast someone aside because their symptoms are from a particular basis.

Even if the doctor wishes to put symptoms down to ‘attention seeking’, my view is that there is still a need for that person to be treated.  Maybe treated differently, but the person still needs help.  Right now it seems that a seeming psychological cause, let alone fake, is simply dismissed often.  That is so wrong.

I actually had a similar issue to this problem a few weeks back with the medical specialist who monitors the auto-immune condition I have called Graves’ Disease.  Graves’ Disease affects a number of parts of the body but primarily the thyroid gland, leading to hyperthyroidism and eventually something called thyrotoxicosis (when levels get toxic and life threatening).

My endocrinologist examined my blood results which indicated that my thyroid levels are currently in a safe range.  The problem for me (and I’d like to think it had been for her too) is that sitting in front of her, I had many of the symptoms of thyrotoxicosis. I can tell you that those symptoms were not pleasant and I was hoping that she would help me to address some of them.  I could accept that the blood tests suggested I wasn’t dying, but I was definitely suffering.

Interestingly she was seemingly interested in helping me to alleviate the symptoms until she went to check my case with her supervisor.  Then she came back and told me that because the blood results were fine, there was nothing that needed to be done.  I was shown the door, and actually later I found she had then formally discharged from the Thyroid specialist service I had been under for several years.

My point is that I was still suffering, but she wasn’t interested.  There’s something wrong when doctors dismiss patients when there is clear evidence of suffering.  Just like the Gulf War veterans.  There is suffering, and whether it is faked, ‘all in the head’, Post-Traumatic stress, or clear sign of physical brain damage (as the fMRI will detect)…  there is a patient who is suffering, who has lost quality of life…  and needs help.

I think it’s sad that the general view is that if something is ‘all in your head’ that somehow the pain and suffering is not real and does not need treatment.  Somehow we need to move away from that view because while it remains, it increases the stigma of mental illness because that too, is seen as not real.  It also increases the likelihood that people won’t seek help when they need it.

But as well as the general population view on this, I am convinced that it is medical professionals that need to lead the way in change.  What they have in front of them is a patient who needs help.  That’s actually what matters.

PS.   There is evidence that the situation with my Graves’ Disease is actually quite common, where the blood results indicate everything is ‘normal’ but the patient reports a very different reality in terms of symptoms.  I’m not aware of a substantiated reason for this though.  Unfortunately many health professionals choose to deny the existence of such an anomaly and so patients end up going without the help they may need.

“Each patient carries his own doctor inside him.” 

―    Norman Cousins,    Anatomy Of An Illness

“A doctor, like anyone else who has to deal with human beings, each of them unique, cannot be a scientist; he is either, like the surgeon, a craftsman, or, like the physician and the psychologist, an artist. This means that in order to be a good doctor a man must also have a good character, that is to say, whatever weaknesses and foibles he may have, he must love his fellow human beings in the concrete and desire their good before his own.”

Auden, W. H.

Not Sissies… Or Paupers

The Little Boy and the Old Man

Said the little boy, “Sometimes I drop my spoon.”
Said the old man, “I do that too.”
The little boy whispered, “I wet my pants.”
I do that too,” laughed the little old man.
Said the little boy, “I often cry.”
The old man nodded, “So do I.”
But worst of all,” said the boy, “it seems
Grown-ups don’t pay attention to me.”
And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.
I know what you mean,” said the little old man.”

― Shel Silverstein

A few days ago the picture below sprung up on my screen, from my friend Sue’s Facebook page.  There could have been no better timing for me, for the issue of old age had been sharply thrown in front of me through my own family relationships.  “Old age ain’t no place for sissies” is so true that I think we are mostly inclined to try to ignore this truth.  Another friend’s elderly (and wise) father later added that “it ain’t no place for paupers too“.

Image credit: FB - Sue Fitzmaurice (used with permission)

Image credit: FB – Sue Fitzmaurice (used with permission)

I couldn’t tell you exactly when it happened, but sometime in the last perhaps five to seven years, my parents aged to a point where their welfare and health became almost more important than my own.  Remember that I don’t have children, and the most I have had to be concerned about someone else was my cat (who passed away last year).  Now I had elderly parents to worry about.

Until some (usually) undefined date on our adulthood I think it is easy for us to exist in our own worlds, and tending our own needs.  Somehow there’s a kind of “they’ll be okay” approach applied to older parents, and we know (in the back of our minds) that sometime in the future, we might have to pay a bit more attention to their needs.

For me, this probably happened for with regard to my mother’s well-being about seven years ago when she started to have a number of falls.  After that I found that if I was walking with her, I was watching the surface she was walking on for her safety.  It just happened.  She didn’t ask.  Actually she would never ask as she has always been fiercely independent.  I simply found myself looking out for her, consciously wanting to avoid another fall for her.

As for Dad, who died nearly two years ago, my change in attitude toward his well-being came at the time of his heart attack, about four years ago.  Dad was in the city one day and got accidentally knocked over by a cyclist on the footpath.  It triggered a heart attack.

Amazingly Dad drove himself to my home (about 10 minutes away), and came in saying he felt a bit off colour.  I assumed, at most, he might need me to drive him home, as I wasn’t aware of the severity of his symptoms.  He looked fine.  When he eventually told me that he thought I should call an ambulance, I admit I thought he was being dramatic and we would be ‘told off for wasting their time’.

It wasn’t a ‘waste of time’ at all, and it was the first of several ambulances that would come to my home, for Dad in the next few years.  Again, like with mum I found myself wanting to check if Dad was okay.  Sometimes he was, and unfortunately other times he wasn’t at all okay.  Dad later died in my home.

It almost felt like I had lost my parents, and that I had become the parent to them.  I said that once to someone and they told me not to be silly because my parents weren’t children.  That’s not what I meant to imply.  What I was feeling was that I now had responsibility for them.  It just happened, as they aged.

My mother is now 85 and widowed.  She is facing some major surgery in the next few weeks.  Because I have been the main family member to provide daily support for her since Dad died, I now find myself dealing with what is ahead for her.

While I am particularly concerned with how she might cope with the surgery, I find myself missing my Dad even more than usual.  Why?  I admit it is because if he were still alive he’d be the one making decisions and arrangements with her.  I’ve ended up the ‘parent’ (or my therapist tells me ‘the spouse’)and while I will do everything I can for her, I seriously wish I didn’t have this responsibility.  I desperately want to go back to when my parents were young, healthy and going to ‘live forever’.  Yet it’s not like that, and it is really hard.

The reality is that my mother is doing pretty well for her age.  Out her dining room window, in the apartment she has at a retirement village near my home, she can often watch residents of the secure dementia unit (across the car park) pacing.  They’re basically walking in circles, within their confined space.  Confined by fences, walls and locked gates.  It’s hard to watch, even at my age, without wondering, ‘is that how I’ll end up?‘  I don’t need to wonder what my mother thinks.  She’s told me, and told me what to do about it.  Another weight I don’t want to bear.

Yesterday I happened to come across a blog by Chris Curry at Healthy Place.com.  I quite like his blog about stigma, and was challenged in my thinking by his title, Remembering the Forgotten: Your Response to Dementia.  It seems that most of the elderly end up with some form of memory loss and/or confusion, on a scale of ‘nothing major’ to ‘residing permanently in a secure dementia unit’.

Who would want this for themselves, or for their parents?  Not me, that’s for sure…  but then off-spring don’t generally get a choice of what they will have to deal with.  No one gets a choice.

In his blog Chris suggests that the stigma associated with dementia is perhaps the greatest of all mental illnesses.  I don’t think I had stopped to consider dementia as a mental illness, but it is an illness of the mind.  And how many jokes do we choose to laugh at about dementia and the memory of the elderly?  It’s easy because no one is going to fight back like we might choose to fight against jokes of say, bipolar for example.

It makes me think.  When I say that mental illness is okay and shouldn’t be the subject of stigma, then I need to include in that dementia and other illnesses related to the degeneration of the mind in the elderly.  If we fight for ourselves, then we fight for those who ain’t sissies too.  I wouldn’t like to have to choose one mental illness over another, but I’m sure getting the feeling that old age ain’t much fun.

Maybe that’s pessimistic, but then I look back at the last say, five year of my parents lives and I wouldn’t have wanted their health for anything.  And actually they’ve got off pretty lightly.  I look at the final years of my grandparents too.  I wouldn’t choose that either.  I think that actually the aging process deserves more respect than we often give it.

“In one thing you have not changed, dear friend,” said Aragorn: “you still speak in riddles.”
“What? In riddles?” said Gandalf. “No! For I was talking aloud to myself. A habit of the old: they choose the wisest person present to speak to; the long explanations needed by the young are wearying.” 

―    J.R.R. Tolkien,    The Two Towers

Blog For Mental Health 2013

blogformentalhealth20131

I am joining the project to Blog for Mental Health 2013, a project speared-headed by the wonderful  A Canvas Of The Minds, where some good friends of mine hang out and come up with brilliant material on mental health issues.  I realise this is the second campaign I’ve joined in a week (the other one you can check out on Still Standing Up To Stigma), but I see them as both being important and want to be part of both.  Also when my good friend Ruby pledged me, I just knew I wanted to get involved.

Blog for Mental Health 2013 is catching on like wildfire.  Everyone wants to be part of it and that’s fantastic to see so many bloggers committed to talking about mental health.  So here’s what you need to know:  This is not an award, but rather an exciting project to get a community of mental health bloggers to show that they are proud of their lives, that they are writing for themselves as well as for those who have not yet found their voices, that they are ensuring no one ever has to feel alone when dealing with mental illness. For me, those are some excellent reasons to be a part of this.

The badge that goes with this project, is designed by Lulu and you’ll see that repeated over on the right of this screen.

The next task is to take the pledge, and therefore:

I pledge my commitment to the Blog For Mental Health 2013 Project.  I will blog about mental health topics not only for myself, but for others.  By displaying this badge, I show my pride, dedication, and acceptance for mental health.  I use this to promote mental health education in the struggle to erase stigma.

Step two is to link back to the person who pledged me, Ruby Tuesday of I Was Just Thinking. . . and also co-owner of A Canvas Of The Minds.

Step three is a short biography about my mental health and what it means to me.

My mental health tends to revolve around labels such as Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) and Depression with frequent visits of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and eating disorders.  That said, labels don’t actually mean much to me apart from a way for me to identify reasons for some of my behaviours, thoughts and feelings.  I am me, I have a mental illness, and to me, that’s what matters.

Mental illness makes achieving mental health harder than usual.  There are extra bridges to cross, there is stigma to face, and there are battles to win.  But it is possible. 

The mental illnesses that I have are with me for life (BPD is part of my personality) but I view myself as having mental health when I can manage the symptoms and live the life that is important to me.  Right now, I’m doing that and it makes me happy.  It doesn’t mean that there are no struggles, but it does mean I can enjoy mental health just as much as the next person down the street.

Am I crazy?  Probably.  Is it ‘all in my head’?  Absolutely, that’s where my brain resides.  Is it easy?  No, it’s damn hard but living this way is so much more fulfilling than the life I barely existed in over years past.

Being part of this project is important to me, because I know how hard it is to live in this society where mental illness is not seen as okay.  I want to do my bit to spread the word that it is totally okay.  I not only want to make life easier for other people who have mental illness, but I also want to contribute a message that prepares our world to be more accepting of mental illness in the future.  May the next generation not have to fight with stigma.  May they be able to find the acceptance and peace they deserve.

Was that short?  Probably not.  Sometimes I just can’t help myself.  The final step is to pledge five bloggers who have “proven their mettle in my eyes as mental health bloggers”.  Hmm.  Actually this is a bit that I find hard.  I know that it is a way to get other bloggers involved, but personally I don’t want bloggers I could pledge to feel somewhat obligated.  I know obligation is not the intention, but I also know how easy it is for some of us to feel obligated.

So I’m not going to pledge any, except to say that if you write about mental health, even just some of the time (like me) then please consider getting on board with this project.  I honestly believe the more we all speak out about mental health, then the better place we create for ourselves and others to live with mental illness.  So check out the initial post – Blog for Mental Health 2013 and get involved.

One final note from A Canvas of the Minds, if you are getting on board…

“we are launching a Blog For Mental Health 2013 Official Blogroll!  So, in addition to linking back to the person who pledged you, please include the link to the original post in your piece.  As this gets passed along, link back or click here and leave a comment containing the link to your pledge, and we will put you on our Blog For Mental Health 2013 Official Blogroll page!”

Show the world our strength, show them our solidarity, show them what we are made of.  Take the Blog for Mental Health pledge and proudly display the badge on your blog!

“Sometimes the world is so much sicker than the inmates
of its institutions.” 

―    Joanne Greenberg,    I Never Promised You a Rose Garden

Still Standing Up To Stigma

Stand up for Mental Health

In doing my research, then writing and keeping up with feedback later, for my post The Black Mark Against Mental Illness I was reminded of just how strong the stigma against mental illness is.  People feel very strongly about being labelled as having a mental illness, and I don’t think that’s so much about the label (or the treatment that might be needed), as the attitude they expect from the general public, as well as the attitude they apply to themselves about having a mental illness.

That post made me realise anew just how hard it is to accept a diagnosis of mental illness, and had me thinking that we have to do something about this because it’s stopping people from getting the help and treatment they need.

So it was timely when I discovered Healthy Place’s Stand Up For Mental Health Campaign, which starts today.  This campaign in about standing up to, and eliminating the stigma against mental illness.  By taking part in this, I am saying:

There is nothing “wrong” with having a mental illness.

People with a mental illness are not alone in what they are dealing with.

People with a mental illness shouldn’t feel ashamed or forced to hide their mental illness symptoms and desire for effective treatment.

Mental health stigma will no longer be tolerated.

One thing I have been reminded of recently is being told their illness or symptoms are ‘all in their head’ is scary for people.  I’ve particularly noticed this amongst fibromyalgia sufferers who, like me, often have a hard job getting doctors  to take their suffering seriously.  When any suffering impedes our daily life, it is serious and I think it is so sad that this is a common attitude struck by people with chronic pain conditions.

As quite rightly pointed out to me the other day it IS ‘all in their head’.  After all, whether it is fibromyalgia, which has it’s grounding in neurological functioning, or a specific mental illness, it does come from the brain… which is found in the head.  Why should something based in the head be something to be feared or ignored?  It shouldn’t be.  It is just as important as if I have a twisted ankle which affects my walking.

When people are suffering, they shouldn’t need to fear the reactions of either medical staff, media, or their friends and family.  Whatever the basis of suffering is, it is real and should be treated as such.

Yet again, I go on about stigma and now I have joined this Campaign.  I think that’s what it’s going to take.  For us to continually chip away against the attitudes that exist.  Every time we contribute to the conversation against stigma, then we are creating an ocean full of acceptance and understanding for everyone who suffers.  Even if we can’t change the attitudes we personally experience, it would be great if we made it easier for those ahead to seek and get the help they need.

“How would your life be different if…you stopped making negative judgmental assumptions about people you encounter? Let today be the day…you look for the good in everyone you meet and respect their journey.”

~Steve Maraboli, Life, The Truth and Being Free

The Black Mark Against Mental Illness

‘DSM-IV’ Image credit: Wikipedia.com

There’s been quite a bit of conversation going on in different places about the upcoming Diagnostic and Statistical Manual 5 (DSM-5), which will finally make itself useful in May 2013.  There’s a lot of controversy over various elements of it and I could take up many posts just discussing those. I must remember to get back to the intended change of name for Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD).

For today though I want to talk about the issue of the stigma against mental illness and how it is making itself seen, and heard in the fibromyalgia world.  At the outset it’s important to point out that fibro is NOT a mental illness, nor is it categorised as one.  But there is a new disorder mentioned in the DSM-5 that has a lot of people with fibro worried.

Under the DSM-5 there is a new diagnostic category called Somatic Symptom Disorder (SSD) which will apparently mislabel some people with medical disorders as have a mental disorder.

A person will meet the criteria for SSD by reporting just one bodily symptom that is distressing and/or disruptive to daily life and having just one of the following three reactions to it that persist for at least six months:

1) ‘disproportionate’ thoughts about the seriousness of their symptom(s); or

2) a high level of anxiety about their health; or,

3) devoting excessive time and energy to symptoms or health concerns   (1.)

The concern of fibro patients I have been reading of in recent days is that their fibro will be re-labelled as SSD if they have this high level of anxiety and thought to their fibro symptoms.  As a fellow sufferer of fibro I know all too well that it is very hard not to be anxious about symptoms.  They are literally new every morning, and there is a constant worry over how to treat, and manage the symptoms as well as getting through daily life.  So I get their concern that they might be labeled with SSD.

Do I want yet another label?  Not particularly, but I fail to see the whole issue with quite the level of dismay I have read recently.  I will still be a fibro sufferer, and therefore a medical patient.  SSD does not take away my fibro.  Regrettably what it does is give me, and no doubt millions of others, an extra label.

I know for many fibro patients, they fight hard against suggestions that fibro is ‘all in their head’ and has a psychological component.  For me though, I am quite happy to accept that there is a psychological element in my fibro, and actually one of the most helpful treatments I have is access to my psychotherapist.

That doesn’t mean my pain and fatigue isn’t real.  I can assure you it is.  But I recognise that my emotional well-being plays a part in how much pain I am in.  Most people though, don’t want to think this way and I suspect that stigma and the general public’s view of mental illness is the reason for this.

What  concerns me is the fear that I have seen fibro patients display as they write about being labelled as having a mental illness.

“WTH! I’m not mental!”

“This is such BS!! I know my pain is real and not in my head and has it made me crazy? Yes!! But I wasn’t before fibro moved in!!”

“this made me want to cry… people already do not believe me so I push myself everyday to prove some one hurting so much everyday can be strong…. so they call us crazy when we just want to know whats wrong with us, be normal, and happy…”

“My doctor told me all fibro patients just need a good psychiatrist !”

“the pain is more than real…its not in our heads!!!”

“I have nightmares about people close to me not believing what I go through with FM and belittling the severity of it. I wake up crying and feel awful for hours afterwards.”

“Please don’t make it harder for all of us than it already is. We are in enough pain as it is.”

“This is not a made up illness. It is real. People are suffering immensely.”

“The pain is REAL.  I have it right this minute in my whole body and it is excrutiating (sic), is that all in my head.”

If you are led to believe that your medical illness will disappear, and be replaced by a mental illness that takes no account of the level of pain and suffering you experience on a daily basis, then I can understand people being concerned.  But I don’t think that is exactly what is happening.

What does concern me is that when I read the comments above, I see how fearful people are of being labelled with a mental illness.  From this range of comments is suggests that people see mental illnesses as made up, not real, all in our head and of no significance.

And while I know first-hand that the pain of fibro is very real I know that the pain of mental illness is just as real, if taking a slightly different form.

All I can take from this is that while fibro sufferers have a shared fear of not being taken seriously, more worrying to me is the sheer size of stigma which makes people fearful of having a mental illness.  If everyone shares this fear, then they are likely to not seek treatment if they think they have any sort of mental illness.

Actually mental illness is real, but it is also survivable.  If the SDD diagnosis can be used carefully and appropriately then maybe people with overwhelming and disabling worries about their illness, whatever it is, can be helped.  That doesn’t need to stop people with fibro getting the treatment we need.

I am inclined to think there is a little scare mongering going on.  A little information is blown out of proportion.  And then the masses get scared.  Maybe I’ll be proven wrong.  But then I’m so used to mental illness, another label really won’t worry me.  I’ve got plenty already.  It does seem though, that stigma is alive and kicking and it’s not at all helped by scare tactics.