Amazing. Just amazing.
"I think many people are afraid that if they take medication or even agree to see a therapist that they are in some way admitting failure or defeat. Or they have been told by their boyfriend or their mother or their best friend that they should buck up and get over it, and that asking for help is a sign of weakness. Well then, let me be weak. Let me be a failure. Because being over here on this side, where I see and think clearly, where I'm happy to greet my child in the morning, where I can logically maneuver my way over tiny obstacles that would have previously been the end of the world, over here being a failure is a hell of a lot more enjoyable than the constant misery of suffering alone..." [more]
"To the people out there who denigrate mental health awareness and treatment, I say this: You aren’t helping. You are making it worse. Stop being an arrogant know-it-all. You aren’t right. You are wrong. If someone tells you they need help, your opinion means less than that of professionals. Stop being ignorant. Stop being obstinate. Stop insisting that your loved one, partner, child or co-worker “get over it”. They won’t get over it until you let it go and encourage them to seek help. There are many different approaches and ways to treat mental diseases and conditions. The first step is letting go. You could probably use some time talking it out yourself..." [more]
I started reading Dooce in January of 2004. She had a new baby, and I really enjoyed the glimpses into those early days of having a newborn. I watched as Leta grew older, and as Heather grew sadder, more frustrated. I was watching her depression spiral out of control.
In May 2004, I experienced depression for the first time. I didn't give it that name; I didn't recognize it for what it was. In June 2004, I experienced hypomania for the first time. I didn't give it that name. I didn't recognize it for what it was.
Summer 2004--While sitting on the couch in my living room, watching the Olympics on TV, I read about Heather's treatment at a mental health facility. The facility into which she entered to stabilize her medication, the facility she says saved her life.
Heather's openness about her mental illness is one of the most positive forces we have going for us. Her willingness to talk about her depression is one of the driving forces that gives me willingness to talk about my bipolar disorder. She has helped to forge a path, one that makes it easier for me to follow. Her sense of humor about her disease, her honesty about it--the way she shows that mental illness is all at once heartbreaking, absurd, humorous, and sorrowful--these are the things that helped me find my words, my voice, my ability to show the same things in so many different ways.
Today, her husband Jon wrote a wonderful piece about loving someone with a mental illness. Again, his strength and honesty about their life together is much appreciated. It's something that I--and Joey--live with every day. Reading Jon's post, I was constantly reminded of how difficult my illness is on Joey, how he must constantly check to make sure I'm taking my medicine, how he must constantly make sure I'm doing ok, that I'm thriving. It makes me remember how much of a sacrifice he makes each and every day--and how I sometimes remember that he's making a sacrifice, because he takes it in stride, because he does it without complaining, because he does it so perfectly.
Heather and Jon are two of my most important heroes, because they continue to show me that it can be done. That life with mental illness, that marriage with mental illness, that success and raising a family and keeping it all together--it can be done. It may not always be graceful, and it can never be perfect, but it can be done.
"To the people out there who denigrate mental health awareness and treatment, I say this: You aren’t helping. You are making it worse. Stop being an arrogant know-it-all. You aren’t right. You are wrong. If someone tells you they need help, your opinion means less than that of professionals. Stop being ignorant. Stop being obstinate. Stop insisting that your loved one, partner, child or co-worker “get over it”. They won’t get over it until you let it go and encourage them to seek help. There are many different approaches and ways to treat mental diseases and conditions. The first step is letting go. You could probably use some time talking it out yourself..." [more]
I started reading Dooce in January of 2004. She had a new baby, and I really enjoyed the glimpses into those early days of having a newborn. I watched as Leta grew older, and as Heather grew sadder, more frustrated. I was watching her depression spiral out of control.
In May 2004, I experienced depression for the first time. I didn't give it that name; I didn't recognize it for what it was. In June 2004, I experienced hypomania for the first time. I didn't give it that name. I didn't recognize it for what it was.
Summer 2004--While sitting on the couch in my living room, watching the Olympics on TV, I read about Heather's treatment at a mental health facility. The facility into which she entered to stabilize her medication, the facility she says saved her life.
Heather's openness about her mental illness is one of the most positive forces we have going for us. Her willingness to talk about her depression is one of the driving forces that gives me willingness to talk about my bipolar disorder. She has helped to forge a path, one that makes it easier for me to follow. Her sense of humor about her disease, her honesty about it--the way she shows that mental illness is all at once heartbreaking, absurd, humorous, and sorrowful--these are the things that helped me find my words, my voice, my ability to show the same things in so many different ways.
Today, her husband Jon wrote a wonderful piece about loving someone with a mental illness. Again, his strength and honesty about their life together is much appreciated. It's something that I--and Joey--live with every day. Reading Jon's post, I was constantly reminded of how difficult my illness is on Joey, how he must constantly check to make sure I'm taking my medicine, how he must constantly make sure I'm doing ok, that I'm thriving. It makes me remember how much of a sacrifice he makes each and every day--and how I sometimes remember that he's making a sacrifice, because he takes it in stride, because he does it without complaining, because he does it so perfectly.
Heather and Jon are two of my most important heroes, because they continue to show me that it can be done. That life with mental illness, that marriage with mental illness, that success and raising a family and keeping it all together--it can be done. It may not always be graceful, and it can never be perfect, but it can be done.
posted by Another Chance to Get It Right at
5:21 PM
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