Where to begin to break the stigma?

It’s December and honestly, it’s a month I mostly hate. My favorite season and I hate it. Especially now. Most people would ask why and I would just grump them until they left me alone.

Now, I don’t think that should be what I do. In fact, it’s essentially the opposite of what I should do As a sufferer of mental illness.

I should help to #breakthestigma of Mental Illness.

Now, I thought my last post was long, this one takes the cake for the longest thing like this I’ve written on a blog or in a public place in a long while.

#breakthestigma of Mental Illness

this won’t be easy. It’s going to be actually pretty rough, but I think I can do this. It’s also going to piss of members of my family, but I find that I no longer care.

Why do I hate the holiday season, especially this year? Well, it stems from a conversation that I had with my mother during the family visit in August. See, this year, I’ve been noticing that I’ve been having more and more trouble getting things accomplished. So we had a conversation about it, and I suggested that I possibly have ADD or ADHD and anxiety as well as depression. What my mother responded with is why I’m not in the best of moods right now. My mother told me that yes, she’d suspected that sort of thing for a while. I asked for a definition of a “while” and her answer made me so mad that I essentially went straight to my room and shut and locked the door, telling everyone that I’d gone to bed. What did she say? She told me that she and my father had suspected that I had mental illness issues while I was in middle school, but they didn’t do anything about it.

A decade that they’d known, and I’d had to work it out on my own – and at a time that I couldn’t even begin to afford treatment. And they wondered why I essentially collapsed out of college? I can’t focus. (this post alone, 7+ hours, at least.) And they’ve given me the impression, for nearly a decade, that they think I’m a failure because I can’t focus. I’m my father’s fourth child, but only the third to live past infancy. I’m my mother’s only child. And I receive the impression from them that I’m a failure because I have a recognizable mental illness. This is distressing, because my mother has been properly diagnosed, and officially has bipolar disorder. My father’s doctors have suggested that he needs to be tested for it himself.

As an added bonus, doctors who know the full family history have been suggesting to my parents since I was in the second grade that I needed to see a therapist, due to certain events that occurred in front of me. So, I’m 27, and doctors have been saying to my family for twenty years that I needed to see a shrink.

And then it became possible to take certain diagnosis tests online and for free. Now, before you bitch me out about that, read the whole rest of the post.

I took several of those tests. Actually, I think I’ve taken every variant available. To formalize a solid diagnosis, I’ll be taking copies of dozens of things to the doctors, when I finally can afford to see them. Roughly, the consensus of dozens of tests online indicate that I have a significant level of anxiety, as well as a measurable amount of ADD(or)ADHD, as well as one of the many forms of depression (with leanings towards bipolar-ism, which doesn’t surprise me as my mother is bipolar).

I’m hoping to be able to see a proper medical professional in the next couple of months. My initial hope was for January, but since my full time job cut two days from me per pay period, it’s going to be rather tight for a while. (And by tight, I can barely afford ramen.) (added fun anxiety inducing bonus: the fridge died in the house.)

Odds are much better that I’ll see someone in 2-6 months instead. My parents also want me to move out of their house. (I’ve been living in it as a sort of guardian since 2011. Paying rent, paying full utilities, Internet, etc.) And of course, the workplace decided to cut hours again. I’m going to have to file for partial unemployment to deal with the sharp cut. So, between the various moments of just disaster, doctors and medicine are going to have to wait for a while. It’s one of the rare moments that I’m actually glad I’m allergic to a lot of things, or react funny to a lot of things. (Vaccines, especially.)



I’ll make a separate post for the things beyond this that I said I was going to talk about in December, mostly to maintain a sorting system in the tags. Also, if you’ve read to here and want to talk to me, my nanowrimo email is open all the time, hglnanodragon(at)gmail.com – mention the added fun. Otherwise, I’ll send your messages to spam.