In the spirit of Mental Health Awareness Month I am revealing my struggles with mental illness.
Lately I have been thinking about what got my blog started. I decided to go back and read the very first post I ever wrote, almost five years ago.
“First post as I try to learn WordPress… You gotta start somewhere, folks.”
The body is a whopping 23 words long:
“So I was thinking… Most of the information I process and concepts I learn in life seem so obvious after I learn them.”
(Wow, I was like SO smart back then. And, damn I have gotten long-winded since then).
Over the last year I have had pain in my right forearm in wrist. I’ve put off going to an orthopedic doctor because I feared I had an injury that would require me to stop writing and stop doing yoga until it healed. As a writer and someone who enjoys exercise, those orders would not mesh well with my commitment to practicing them regularly. Even worse — as a person living with mental illness, those orders would be part of a death sentence because writing and exercise are an integral part of my treatment plan.
I started this blog in July 2011, three months after I had my first psychotic episode that led to being diagnosed with a bipolar disorder and an anxiety disorder. I was deeply embarrassed and ashamed of the complete loss of control I felt during the paranoia, hallucinations, delusions of grandeur, insomnia, mania, and intrusive thoughts. I completely lost my grip on reality and was involuntarily hospitalized. The racing and incoherent thoughts, sleepless nights, impulsively, agitation, and reckless behaviors were not a pretty sight.