What’s in your head?

I completely stole that title from the Cranberries song “Zombie”. I’ve been talking to mom via text about writing this blog, and now the song is stuck in my head. It works, though. I’ve been tackling issues dealing with physical disability and medical care for that for awhile now. I’ve been avoiding my mental disabilities.

All my life, I’ve thought that living with some kind of mental disability was my worst nightmare. I didn’t understand them at all. When I thought of mental disability, I thought of taking brain damage so bad that I was in a vegetative state. I can’t even handle people joking about it, it still makes me faintly nauseous. I didn’t think of things like bipolar disorder, anxiety disorders, PTSD, schizophrenia, and intense phobias. I didn’t think I knew anyone with those disorders. I didn’t even know that some of them existed. Ironically, I think that some of this ignorance caused the development of a mild phobia. I fear not being in control of my mind to the point that I’ve never even drank more than one alcoholic drink. (There’s not many Navy vets that can say the same thing!) I was slightly tipsy off of a mixed drink once, and hated every second of it. That was 20 years ago.

Life happened. I’m not going to go into the details, but things happened while I was in the Navy that are not combat related. I was attacked and would have been killed, had a friend not saved my life. I was never exactly social to begin with, and very introverted. As a result, I ended up with the mental disorders I knew nothing about. After years of fighting them, I have a name for what I couldn’t explain for so many years. I have depression, general anxiety disorder, social phobia, and PTSD.

There’s such a stigma around having a mental illness that I resisted going to get help for years. I didn’t want to think about it. I thought that if I ignored it, it would go away. The past was in the past and I was completely stupid for living in it. Other people got over it without shrinks, so could I. It got worse as I got older, not better. After 17 years and a ton of encouragement from my husband, I finally consented to get help. I’m stuck in a rut of not getting help again, because I ended up not trusting my therapist. I’m working on getting another therapist currently so I can start graduate school. I dropped out a couple of years ago when my health started failing, and a large part of it was stress causing my RD to go nuts. I’m hoping that opening up, going slowly, and getting a better therapist will help me get through this time. In a way, I have my sister in law to thank. Kelly has always been completely open about her battles with being bipolar. I’ve felt slightly hypocritical not following suit. So here I am, and I’m going to try to explain what happens in my brain when each disorder is triggered, and try to take away some of the stigma of mental illness.

I don’t think I have to describe depression to anyone, except to say “cheer up” is not the answer. All of these are chemical imbalances in my brain, physical problems although they can’t be seen. With the suicides of such celebrities as Robin Williams, Chris Cornell, Kurt Cobain and others, depression is fairly understood now. I would just like to point out that they most likely did not feel selfish in killing themselves, but selfless. I’ve heard from multiple survivors that they honestly felt like they were doing loved ones a favor. Thankfully, I am not suicidal. It has never crossed my mind. General anxiety disorder and social phobia go somewhat hand in hand. I’m not just uncomfortable in a crowd, sometimes I’m completely terrified in them. I’m not sure how I can handle teaching, except that I’ve faced more danger than teenage kids. I see them daily and develop relationships with my kids, so it doesn’t really bother me. (I don’t go in the hallways much between classes. That’s a bit rough for me.) A crowd full of people I don’t know is terrifying to me. I try to tell myself to calm down, but I feel danger all around me. I can’t shake off that feeling of danger, so I can’t really think of anything else. I’ve noticed that being outdoors is not too bad. Perhaps it’s because it’s more open and I can get away easier. Walmart, though? Not so much!

When the anxiety disorder is triggered, though, it’s very hard for me to calm down. There’s a million thoughts jumbled together in my head, and I can’t capture just one to focus on. Everything I need to do starts running through my head, but they are just wisps that I can’t capture long enough to do them. I’ll remember something else, then another thing, then I’m just frozen and can’t do any of the things. I just end up sitting there quietly, and trying to sort out what’s going on in my head. I get cranky and irritable because I can’t get my brain under control. If it’s bad enough, it gets hard to breath, like there’s a band across my chest. At that point, I generally just stuff my head under a blanket until I can calm myself down.

I don’t seem to have the classical PTSD like you see the war veterans in the movies. I don’t have flashbacks. My PTSD takes the form of nightmares and being terrified of angry people. The feeling of danger takes over, and I’m frozen until I can convince my brain that I’m not in danger. This is amplified 100% in a crowd. I don’t trust people easily. I don’t like to be touched unless I’ve figured out that I completely trust you. My biggest pet peeve is the people who you just meet who automatically say “I’m a hugger!” and throw their arms around you. I’m only a hugger if I’m 100% certain of you. Until I’m satisfied with this, I don’t want to be touched. I also have no problem with ducking out of a hug.

What people don’t understand is that these aren’t problem with an easy fix. Some of them are probably not fixable at all, except in learning to cope. In many of them, there is physical issues in the brain that cause these disorders. In other words, we can’t just “calm down” or “get over it” or anything else we are told. They have nothing to do with our relationship with God, nor can they be “prayed away”. Trust me. I believe in my God, and He helps me deal. But that’s just not the way He works. We must deal with it as the physical medical issue that it is. We can’t magically make the symptoms go away at the drop of a hat any more than I can ignore having RD and it melt away.

Just because the problem is in my head doesn’t mean it’s fake. I can’t go back in time and take away what happened to me. I can only move forward and deal with it the best I can, and I think I do a pretty good job. I have the support of a wonderful husband, an amazing family, and the best friends I could ever ask for. Their support is the best thing in my life to help me cope when I have trouble. Be understanding of people who are reacting to things in ways you wouldn’t. You don’t know what’s in their head, or if they can even help their reaction. Be kind.

Zombie is still stuck in my head, by the way. That disorder is called “earworm”.