Mental illness, social disorders, treatment and recovery

[Ronja]

It's almost been three years now. I've not had a major depressive episode. A few minor ones, but manageable and short lived. If I survive the next 14 days, my depression could be declared as in remission

. Dries - that's great!

[Dries van Tonder]

It's almost been three years now. I've not had a major depressive episode. A few minor ones, but manageable and short lived. If I survive the next 14 days, my depression could be declared as in remission

. Dries - that's great!

Thanks Ronja: I try to hide it, but actually: I'm on top of the world!!!!!

[hadespussercats]

Congratulations, Dries! This is wonderful news! You've worked so hard for this.

Be well.

[Callan]

It's almost been three years now. I've not had a major depressive episode. A few minor ones, but manageable and short lived. If I survive the next 14 days, my depression could be declared as in remission

That's an amazing achievement, Dries.

[Gallstones]

I'm happy for you Dries.
No brandy on hand but I will have a chocolate vodka in honor of your improved circumstances.

[charlou]

It's almost been three years now. I've not had a major depressive episode. A few minor ones, but manageable and short lived. If I survive the next 14 days, my depression could be declared as in remission

. Dries - that's great!

Thanks Ronja: I try to hide it, but actually: I'm on top of the world!!!!!

I'd never have guessed.

Dries

[JimC]

Cheers, mate!

[apophenia]

I'm sorry, was there a question in there somewhere?


Social anxiety disorder is a hidden epidemic in our midst. It is estimated to be the third most prevalent psychiatric disorder behind depression and alcohol dependence, but is marginilized by the stigma and reluctance of patients to seek treatment. I've got modest social anxiety -- I'm very shy, not bashful, but shy. People who have not lived with an anxiety disorder can't imagine the suffering. I had panic attacks for most of a decade, but fortunately had ready access to Xanax most of the time. (But boy, when I didn't.... I remember one of my early ones, I had my sister drive me to the hospital and we sat together in the ER, me white knuckled gripping her hand, bawling my eyes out. Thank God that's behind me.)

You need to take what doctors and therapists say with a grain of salt. They're just as guilty of subscribing to old wives tales and psychological myths as anybody (the book I just read, "Mistakes Were Made (but not by me)" by a couple of social psychologist really takes the habits of clinicians out to the shed and takes the wood to them).

I'm glad to hear your successes. The good news is, the older you get, the more psychiatric problems tend to plateau and smooth themselves out so they aren't as traumatic (for many disorders -- the prognosis for schizophrenia isn't as comforting, and I'm right behind them with schizo-affective disorder).

My psychiatric symptoms began as early as four or five years old. I started having major depressions at 17, and they basically sunk my nascent dreams of an academic career with repeated failure after failure. Oddly enough, I knew I was a bit odd in high school, but when I asked my mother to help me see a psychologist, she refused to help unless I first told her what was wrong. Given I loathed and despised her, that being part of the problem, I couldn't oblige. This book I'm reading, focusing on the way people manage cognitive dissonance, argues convincingly that the habits of victims hanging on to their anger and resentment, is as much a distorting and unnecessarily damaging process as that which results in perpetrators creating victims, and that I should find some way to resolve those feelings. I guess it's my "survivor story" and in some twisted way I'm proud of it. I don't know what to do. My mother passed away quite a few years ago, and the last two years of her life, I made every effort I reasonably could to spend as much time with her as I could -- and no, I didn't know she was going to die that early. So ultimately, even with her passing, I was at peace; no unfinished business, no regrets about time not spent. But still I have this, I don't know, stain, I don't know how to put it into words.

And there are other points like that. A few years ago, a nurse practitioner took over my case when the old one retired. And she was just collecting a paycheck. Doing whatever to minimize her case load. If you weren't bleeding to death, your case wasn't important. And if you were, well she'd look the other way or minimize you. So when I explained to her that I had delusions, she laughed at me and told me I didn't know what I was talking about. Later that winter, on the strength of my conviction in my delusions, I took two bottles of sleeping pills and walked out into 20 below weather to hide in a snowbank and die. Sadly, I either didn't hide well or something, and somebody found me. I lost nine fingers, but otherwise was unharmed. Oddly enough, I don't really resent her, so much as it just makes me sad that there are people like that in the system, making life and death decision, based solely on whether they can find some excuse to take your chart out of their inbox. Again, the feelings are somewhat fuzzy and undefined.

And now I have my father to deal with. He's in his late 80s, so he's not going to be around much longer, and I try to summon the emotion to care, but mostly it's just a blank emptiness I feel. I resented him (victim behaviors, awesome) from my childhood and youth for twofold reasons. First, because while I knew my mother couldn't help herself -- the behaviors of hers which caused me such anguish, were clearly out of her control. My father was perfectly healthy. And he did nothing. (Or worse.) Second, my twin sisters, four years older than me, could do no wrong. He favored them, clearly, and that perception -- justified or no -- festered in my bosom, and continues to grow, even to this day. I will likely spend the rest of my life (however short) struggling with these vindictive, hateful feelings, while he, likely, will go to his final rest with a clear conscience and a contented heart. God life is so funny.

[Rum]

Sorry to read about the anguish you have and maybe still are experiencing Ap. that little box that has evolved on the top of our necks sometimes has a lot to answer for. Look after yourself.

[Ronja]

apophenia, so much that you write is familiar and yet so much is also new. You touched something in me - thank you. Be kind to yourself when and how you can (can anyone of us do more than that?).

If you wish to accept: (I'm maybe a bit overly careful/conscious with virtual hugs, as I hate uninvited touch so much myself)

[Hermit]

If you wish to accept: (I'm maybe a bit overly careful/conscious with virtual hugs, as I hate uninvited touch so much myself)

http://rationalia.com/forum/search.php? ... mit=Search http://rationalia.com/forum/search.php? ... mit=Search

[Jonesboy]

Here's something I posted on RatSkep, on a similar thread. I edited it somewhat, substituting the word regression with remission. (Was a bit intoxicated at the time, couldn't find the right word). Interesting topic though

I've suffered from depression since childhood. I can remember those dark periods, sometimes lasting two to three years quite well. At that stage, the doctors merely told my parents that my "system" was off balance (whatever that meant). I never got treatment for it. As an adult, I sought help many times and was put on on anti-depressants periodically for most of my adult life. I remember my doctor telling me that I had to go for more intensive treatment, otherwise I will reach a breaking point where I will totally collapse, psychologically as well as physically. I dismissed his warnings to my detriment. About two years ago, the total collapse happened. My mind had shut down completely, and my body followed suit. I couldn't walk more than a couple of paces without collapsing. At that point, I was seriously considering suicide as an option. Fortunately, I had a long time aquaintance who's a psychologist, and went to see her. She immediately arranged for me to be admitted admitted to a step-down (treatment only) hospital where they specialize in treating depression. I can remember arriving there, barely able to walk.

I stayed there for two and a half weeks. The treatment program consisted of two weeks of lectures, sessions with psychiatrists, psychologists and occupational therapists. They cover everything from physical causes, such as hormone imbalances to psychological causes, and personality type related causes; and teach you how to deal with it.

However, the prognosis from my psychiatrist was not good. In his first meeting with me he was astounded, saying that I had suffered from complete psychiatric neglect for all of my life. As I've had more than two major depressive episodes, the likelyhood of me ever recovering was exceedingly slim. He would only be able to declare after three years, if I hadn't slipped back into depression, that my depression was in "remission". It's been two years now, and I've only suffered about three or four shortlived episodes (6 - 12 hours) of depression. I am on medication for both depression and anxiety, and it seems to work, without side-effects (i'm not in la-la land, however ). And I'm confident that I'll make a complete recovery.

Which brings me to something else: Social anxiety disorder. I find social interaction with even close friends exhausting. I'm not able to handle it, except for short periods of time, maximum two hours, else it leaves me drained. It started when I was an adolescent, about sixteen years of age. At that stage, I craved the acceptance of my father, to validate me as a human being (the background to this needs another post alltogether). Unfortunately, it didn't happen. Instead, at a family meeting to discuss problems, my father declared that he couldn't stand me. It devestated me.I decided however that I would prove to him that I was worthy by entering the same branch of the army as he did, and become an officer. At that stage we had compulsory military service, so gaining entrance was easy. However, I failed miserably and attempted suicide three times, with various methods. That reinforced the feeling of being unworthy as a human being. The whole issue was clinched when I went to university, and found that the same auhoritarian approach that ruled the military was also present in civil society (this was South Africa in the early 1980's).

The result of this was debilitating. I was unable to speak fluently. As soon as I started to say something, the muscles in my jaw would malfunction, twitching uncontrollably.I learned, recently, that this is called oromandibular dystonia. Whilst there is treatment for it, it seems to be effective rarely. It's also a condition that waxes and wanes; stress increases it, as do illness. One or two times per year it gets so bad that I can hardly speak at all.

I've realised though, that the trigger for this condition lies in the "unworthyness" aspect. I think that the moment I think about anything that could validate my worth as a human being, my brain cuts out and shuts of anything that might represent me as worthy or intelligent to the rest of society. Realising the problem though, does not present the solution. I think it will take a lot of time, patience and excercise to overcome it, taking into acount that it's been with me for the last thirty years. But I'm confident that I will overcome it

Fictions. Look at me everyone. I've got a condition. Aint it intriguing. Aint it clever.
Like fuck.

Stay off the pills. Keep your toungue out of the psychiatrist pimps arse.

[Pensioner]

Here's something I posted on RatSkep, on a similar thread. I edited it somewhat, substituting the word regression with remission. (Was a bit intoxicated at the time, couldn't find the right word). Interesting topic though

I've suffered from depression since childhood. I can remember those dark periods, sometimes lasting two to three years quite well. At that stage, the doctors merely told my parents that my "system" was off balance (whatever that meant). I never got treatment for it. As an adult, I sought help many times and was put on on anti-depressants periodically for most of my adult life. I remember my doctor telling me that I had to go for more intensive treatment, otherwise I will reach a breaking point where I will totally collapse, psychologically as well as physically. I dismissed his warnings to my detriment. About two years ago, the total collapse happened. My mind had shut down completely, and my body followed suit. I couldn't walk more than a couple of paces without collapsing. At that point, I was seriously considering suicide as an option. Fortunately, I had a long time aquaintance who's a psychologist, and went to see her. She immediately arranged for me to be admitted admitted to a step-down (treatment only) hospital where they specialize in treating depression. I can remember arriving there, barely able to walk.

I stayed there for two and a half weeks. The treatment program consisted of two weeks of lectures, sessions with psychiatrists, psychologists and occupational therapists. They cover everything from physical causes, such as hormone imbalances to psychological causes, and personality type related causes; and teach you how to deal with it.

However, the prognosis from my psychiatrist was not good. In his first meeting with me he was astounded, saying that I had suffered from complete psychiatric neglect for all of my life. As I've had more than two major depressive episodes, the likelyhood of me ever recovering was exceedingly slim. He would only be able to declare after three years, if I hadn't slipped back into depression, that my depression was in "remission". It's been two years now, and I've only suffered about three or four shortlived episodes (6 - 12 hours) of depression. I am on medication for both depression and anxiety, and it seems to work, without side-effects (i'm not in la-la land, however ). And I'm confident that I'll make a complete recovery.

Which brings me to something else: Social anxiety disorder. I find social interaction with even close friends exhausting. I'm not able to handle it, except for short periods of time, maximum two hours, else it leaves me drained. It started when I was an adolescent, about sixteen years of age. At that stage, I craved the acceptance of my father, to validate me as a human being (the background to this needs another post alltogether). Unfortunately, it didn't happen. Instead, at a family meeting to discuss problems, my father declared that he couldn't stand me. It devestated me.I decided however that I would prove to him that I was worthy by entering the same branch of the army as he did, and become an officer. At that stage we had compulsory military service, so gaining entrance was easy. However, I failed miserably and attempted suicide three times, with various methods. That reinforced the feeling of being unworthy as a human being. The whole issue was clinched when I went to university, and found that the same auhoritarian approach that ruled the military was also present in civil society (this was South Africa in the early 1980's).

The result of this was debilitating. I was unable to speak fluently. As soon as I started to say something, the muscles in my jaw would malfunction, twitching uncontrollably.I learned, recently, that this is called oromandibular dystonia. Whilst there is treatment for it, it seems to be effective rarely. It's also a condition that waxes and wanes; stress increases it, as do illness. One or two times per year it gets so bad that I can hardly speak at all.

I've realised though, that the trigger for this condition lies in the "unworthyness" aspect. I think that the moment I think about anything that could validate my worth as a human being, my brain cuts out and shuts of anything that might represent me as worthy or intelligent to the rest of society. Realising the problem though, does not present the solution. I think it will take a lot of time, patience and excercise to overcome it, taking into acount that it's been with me for the last thirty years. But I'm confident that I will overcome it

Fictions. Look at me everyone. I've got a condition. Aint it intriguing. Aint it clever.
Like fuck.

Stay off the pills. Keep your toungue out of the psychiatrist pimps arse.

WANKER

[Jonesboy]

Brain cult whores and pharmo-drugpushers selling your creed. how many more must die because of sycophantic crap like this?

[Gallstones]

Brain cult whores and pharmo-drugpushers selling your creed. how many more must die because of sycophantic crap like this?

Actually, some conditions have an increased risk of causing death if affected person doesn't treat with meds.

I am rather jaded and discouraged and disappointed and cynical with regards to psychiatry and psychology myself, but I am at least informed and would never advocate any affected person refuse treatment if they want and need it. Many people benefit enormously and their risk of self termination is enormously reduced.

Can you, like, give us a background Jonesboy so we know where you are coming from?