Funny how people react to your personal truth when it has to do with a mental illness. In a presentation I give I end with my dream: "My dream is of a stigma free world where I can freely discuss my experiences of the past 29 years and not be laughed at, stared at blankly or ostracized." I don't know how people can take issue with my personal truth. It is what it is.
I want to encourage others to tell their personal truth about their illnesses. Only then can we transcend this thing called stigma. I also write to persuade those without mental illnesses to think about how it feels to lose your faculties and your dreams.
If my truth was another calamitous disease, even another brain disease, there would be no controversy. But, I do not apologize for my views on my personal truth. I am very proud of the fact that with my God and my family I have fought my way through this disease, at least till now. Sometimes, without the competent guidance of a mental health professional. I have been privy to many an unempathetic and/or incompetent professional. And, I will not be intimidated to say otherwise. How can anyone tell me what my truth is?
In reality, there is really nothing anyone can do to me but laugh at me, stare at me blankly or ostracize me. I have been alienated for so long by some, this no longer upsets me. But, I have also been alienated from myself; having to hide from my truth. This is the worst type of alienation. I am enjoying the freedom of embracing myself wholeheartedly, warts and all.
You gotta love me (smile).
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Monday, September 26, 2011
to remind myself (humor is my best friend)
So, I'll be turning 50 on October 16th. I'm going to be a very young, vibrant 50. Having spent half my life in psychosis and looking like I'm in my thirties anyway, I feel I owe it to myself.
I also owe myself a "mini" mid-life crisis; just a little one. Since I've had enough drama in my head to last 5 lifetimes, this is all I want. I know who I am.
I told my father who thinks that red hair (my "mini" mid life indulgence) would not become me this:
Like one of my friends who has known me since before my break, found it very funny that on one hospital stay, I told her that they refused to let us watch "One flew over the cuckoo's nest" She always remembers this and we laugh. She is the first one to laugh with me about my condition. But then, we always had the same sense of humor, that's why we've been friends more than thirty years.
I enlisted my father to drive the "getaway car", when on one hospital stay I decided to break out. (I was extremely manic and they couldn't seem to get it under control.). I told my father that they had released me and where to pick me up. But, my father, being the astute gentleman that he is, checked with the hospital first. They said I was over an hour due to be back in the "ward."
This was when they still gave "priveleges" to go off the ward by yourself. You could check your self out for an hour at a time.
My father told them I was in the gift shop. They sent the "white coats" to come and get me. for the rest of my stay I had someone trailing me.
My father never let's me forget this and when I was writing my memoir he said, "Jacques, are you going to tell them about the getaway car story?" We still laugh about it.
I won't bore you with any more of my stories, but you get the gest. Whenever I'm really down on this disease I try to think on some of the things that made me laugh.
I also owe myself a "mini" mid-life crisis; just a little one. Since I've had enough drama in my head to last 5 lifetimes, this is all I want. I know who I am.
I told my father who thinks that red hair (my "mini" mid life indulgence) would not become me this:
- I don't have money to buy a sports car.
- I don't have a husband to leave.
- I don't smoke anymore.
- I don't drink.
- I don't ge high.
- I'm not promiscuous.
Like one of my friends who has known me since before my break, found it very funny that on one hospital stay, I told her that they refused to let us watch "One flew over the cuckoo's nest" She always remembers this and we laugh. She is the first one to laugh with me about my condition. But then, we always had the same sense of humor, that's why we've been friends more than thirty years.
I enlisted my father to drive the "getaway car", when on one hospital stay I decided to break out. (I was extremely manic and they couldn't seem to get it under control.). I told my father that they had released me and where to pick me up. But, my father, being the astute gentleman that he is, checked with the hospital first. They said I was over an hour due to be back in the "ward."
This was when they still gave "priveleges" to go off the ward by yourself. You could check your self out for an hour at a time.
My father told them I was in the gift shop. They sent the "white coats" to come and get me. for the rest of my stay I had someone trailing me.
My father never let's me forget this and when I was writing my memoir he said, "Jacques, are you going to tell them about the getaway car story?" We still laugh about it.
I won't bore you with any more of my stories, but you get the gest. Whenever I'm really down on this disease I try to think on some of the things that made me laugh.
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