19 May 2013
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Written by: Dave
“Well, I’ve been afraid of changing – ‘Cause I’ve built my life around you” ~ Landslide – Stevie Nicks
Even before the collapse of my marriage, this line carried some weight for me. In the past several months it has become both a trigger and a resounding call to truth.
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21 Apr 2013
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Interview with Anthony by Trish
“I want to tell my story” Anthony said.
I had just finished my presentation about storytelling and he was the first person to show an interest. We tried to figure out a time to meet when it was suggested we meet now. I was taken aback but did my best to let go of wanting to control my schedule because when someone wants to tell their story, you need to seize the moment.
Anthony and I went to the back of the centre and sat so I could look directly at him as we talked. He appeared to be quite relaxed in his seat as I was trying frantically to find some kind of writing instrument in my oversized hippy purse.
Without warning, he started his story.
“I’ve experienced all kinds of abuse” he said. “Sexual, neglect, verbal…”
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10 Mar 2013
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superheroes
I know what it is like to feel heartache, to feel alone, and to wonder why God has given you life. Wanting to curse God that He made a mistake giving you life where there are people around dying and want to live. I know what it is like to wake up in the morning with no physical or mental energy and wondering how you are going to get through the day. To feel sadness that lasts for days, weeks, and sometimes months without end. I understand the feeling of discontent, no matter how hard you try to change your mood- there still is that underlying feeling of numb and that something is missing. To feel ambivalent about everything, I get it. I totally get that sometimes self injury makes a person feel something compared to feeling nothing. Yes, I understand why people feel they have to punish themselves with this method- because you feel you are not good enough and never will be. I know what it is like to be tormented by voices that are not there- telling you to do things you do not want to do… hurt yourself or perhaps others. I also get that sometimes it’s hard to communicate with the outside world for days or weeks at a time because you are scared to go out or talk to people for one reason or another. I also empathize with you that it seems no one has stood by you in this time and you feel something must be wrong with you. I get that you may feel as if you are going crazy and you feel alone in this process. That dying seems better then living and suicide seems like an option more so now than ever before. How could I sincerely understand you ask? It’s because I too have been there where you have been or might have been… rock bottom. I have lived in the shadows of this world for a long time- more in than out of them it seems.
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20 Jan 2013
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Schiz Life
Written by: Jared
I’m so appreciative of MHT, because it gives us all a platform to openly share our experiences without fear of shame or judgment. I want to share my own experiences with schizophrenia so that others who may be experiencing the same thing can read it and find comfort knowing they are not alone, and possibly hope and faith in knowing that things will get better!
I’m going to fast-forward through much of the beginning of my life. We know schizophrenia has genetic and environmental factors. It goes to say that while neither of my parents is schizophrenic, one is very obsessive in the sense that she’s just over the threshold of being a hoarder. She is a very kind and compassionate woman. My father, however, did contribute genetic and environmental problems. He is very anxious, very impulsive, and very compulsive. He tends to be domineering and oppressive, frightening everyone into agreeing with him or at least cowering beneath him. This, in addition to some episodes of sexual abuse, laid a horrible foundation for a youngster. I learned how to communicate all of my emotions through one: anger. I also learned how to think like my father, which meant “black and white” authoritative thinking.
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30 Dec 2012
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superheroes
In the first week of November, I walked into a drug store and was horrified to hear Christmas music piped in from all sides. A stranger in front of me stopped in his tracks and voiced out loud, “Oh for C***t’s sake! Give it a rest! There should be a law against playing Christmas music before December!” I chuckled, louder than I intended. The man turned and looked at me. Then we both laughed. For a moment, my horror and his anger went away. The laughter shifted my perspective and briefly connected me to another person. It wasn’t the Christmas spirit I was feeling mind you, it was way too early for that!
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02 Dec 2012
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superheroes
Written by: Veva
I view the journey I’ve been on through the lens of Persephone or Inanna’s myth – the story of a young girl who descends into the darkest corners of the underworld to confront her most vicious, unrelenting demons and emerges from that hell changed, resurrected, and a woman in every sense of the word.
My descent started in high school. Like many young girls, I began to worry about my appearance. It wasn’t vanity – it was an obsession. It got to the point where it took me three hours to get dressed. I would wake up at 4 AM to do my hair and tear my closet apart looking for clothes that never satisfied me. I became very depressed. My father, a family physician, started prescribing me anti-depressants at 14.
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25 Nov 2012
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Written by: Suzie Grogan
I was always an anxious child. I had a loving family – mum, dad and two siblings, a sister and a brother both younger than me; but my mum was dad’s second wife – he was a widower following the death of his first wife and unborn second child. They had lost their first to a fatal asthma attack. He was a quiet man, who didn’t show his emotions readily but when he nearly lost my mum whilst she was expecting me he must have thought his life was on rewind. He had a tendency to assume the worst would always happen and when he developed early onset Parkinson’s in his 40s shortly after my younger brother was born, our lives were then never far from illness or worry. I became desperate to ensure my mum was happy, entertaining my siblings and worrying myself to death if she was late to meet me from school or to come back from the shops. I look back now and believe that my dad, subconsciously and quite openly as he became more seriously ill, passed on responsibility for my mum’s safety to me and I took it, willingly.
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