Author

Personal Introduction:

I’m originally from NYC, born and raised, though I don’t have much of an accent. I moved to Chicago in the Spring of 2009 with my husband in order to find a more easy-going pace of life. He chose to quit his well-paying job to do so, because he felt that the high-pressure culture of midtown Manhattan was not the environment he wanted to work in. We had also planned to live in different cities over time, and Chicago would be the start.

My interest in mental health and stigma stems from personal experience. While it took until age 23 to be diagnosed with and properly treated for Major Depression and Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD), I had been experiencing symptoms of depression since age 11 and OCD shortly thereafter.

I knew I was different from other people and hoped that I was just “weird.” I sought out others that I felt were similar to myself and became familiar with peers and teachers that had various forms of Major Depression, Bipolar Disorder, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Social Anxiety Disorder, Anorexia, and other possible DSM-IV illnesses. Through them I witnessed angry outbursts, violence, extreme sadness, uncontrollable crying, cutting and self-mutilation, poor school performance, truancy, trouble with law enforcement, self-medication with illegal drugs, alcohol, and junk food, date rape, suicidal ideation, hospitalization, and other related problems. It was only after I had graduated from college that I really started to acknowledge the problems I and others I knew had as mental illness rather than just “weirdness,” despite having studied abnormal psychology in college.

For myself, it was a combination of a lack of education and perhaps a simultaneous unwillingness to recognize that something was categorically wrong and that something concrete could be done about it. Because I felt I didn’t match the descriptions and case studies in my class materials, I really didn’t have depression. I suppose I was scared that a diagnosis of depression would mean I would always have problems with extreme sadness. At the same time, I knew I would since it had been going on for so long. When I finally identified myself as having depression and got a concrete diagnosis from a therapist, I was at long last able to begin true recovery. No more was I being counseled on “smiling more” or “being friendlier,” but on what was actually the root cause.

I also avoided psychiatric medication until age 23, though I had seen several inadequate therapists. This was in large part due to miseducation. I can blame others all I want, but in this case, I didn’t do enough research. I firmly believe that each mental health consumer should be educated about the cause and treatment of his or her illness as much as I believe medication should be a component of that treatment. While it took several tries to find the right combination of medications, when I found ones that worked, the difference was remarkable in a matter of weeks. The cost and risk of side effects are worth the possibility of success and gaining back the ability to function, even if it means being able to brush one’s hair or take a shower with ease. Today, lack of health insurance prohibits better medication management, though thankfully I am enrolled in virtually free counseling.

The ultimate goal of this blog is to help others affected by mental illness, either with themselves or someone close to them, by furthering my education and ultimately through my career.