- Friends & Family
- Mental Health
Submitted by: Susanne Johnson
My mental health problems were discovered later in life, but looking back I know today that I have suffered since about age thirteen. It took a long time until I finally got diagnosed and found help, because it is very difficult in the African-American community to find acceptance for a mental health issue. Having a mental health disorder seems not very common in the African-American population and it’s something “you don’t talk about, you can’t share, you have to keep in”.
For many years I felt that I needed help, but I couldn’t come forward and get it. I truly suffered from the stigma associated with seeking mental health treatment. I felt that people would judge me for being weak, not strong enough, or decide that I’m crazy. The only weak or crazy thing I ever did in my life was not to seek treatment early on and instead hide from the stigma. I also went through a period of bulimia during my high school years and I’m lucky that it regulated itself after a while.
Running has helped me to get through my suffering, yet I’m still not happy that I only got better in the past year, and never reached out earlier for help. Sharing my problems and talking about it is what helps me today. I know it helps me and maybe someone else, who might be facing the same problems that I have faced.
My aunt was an alcoholic, my brother is fighting a cocaine addiction, but a mental health disorder is even harder to get through the stigma and judgments of others. I might cry while talking about my story, but I come forward today and like to raise awareness, so others might have it easier in future. It helps to talk about it; every time it gets a little bit easier for me.
I am diagnosed with depression and OCD; at times I feel signs of bipolar disorder coming through. I was always a hyper kid, and may have suffered ADHD from early childhood as well. I can’t sit still and have trouble focusing. My husband does not understand my problems; it’s difficult for others to understand if they didn’t go through it themselves.
But now, finally, I speak up and talk to my husband about it. My husband only sees “I don’t feel good today” and that is his idea of depression. He can’t see or understand that it is way more, that I can’t get out of bed at times, and that I have no energy to do things on certain days. If I were left alone on those days, I would never do anything, never get out of bed, never even comb my hair.
My husband can see it, but since he doesn’t understand where the lows come from, it’s hard to get a feel for it. We have been married for ten years now, and he is a very joyful person. He seems to always be happy.
My OCD just makes me want to have things in a certain way; I like order. It actually helps me in my job today. My problem is that I don’t like change. I have to remind myself often that there is not only one way of doing things and be open to new ways of doing things. I’m also a perfectionist and always want to give my best. I want to give my best for everyone, which makes me often spin around trying to do it all and all perfectly. At this point, I’m getting better about not letting it become a personal failure if I don’t reach my high set goals of perfectionism. Some days I cross of all things off of my to-do-list, other days I only cross off one thing, but I know I gave my best.
Many times I tried to self-medicate my depression. I found myself drinking a lot every time I had a bad day. The feeling of guilt and shame over the drinking made it even worse. It has been an issue for me and I’m working on it. I’m grateful that I never had a problem with drinking so severe that it turned into an addiction.
I spent most of my life in Florida and I only lived in Georgia during my college years. College was a difficult time for me as I was separated from my family and on my own. I compensated for my loneliness and depression during this time by self-medicating with alcohol very often. I became suicidal and even called my friend to say “goodbye” and “don’t be upset with me”. This friend sent someone over to my house and most likely rescued me right there, I was serious and not seeking attention.
Today, I work in a medical office. That job can be very stressful at times, I mean VERY stressful. I have so much anxiety and I’m happy to have a good psychiatrist today to help me. I’m stable with my medication today. I sometimes need to do some medication adjustment, but I would not be able to handle my job and life in general without it. It gives me the stability I need. When my anxiety hits me, it feels like I have a beehive in my chest. I feel all this buzzing going on. At my job, I have not talked about my mental illness. I’m afraid of the stigma. My job is very demanding and I don’t want them to see it as a sign of weakness in me. I know I’m not weak, I know I’m very strong.
Today I am 45 years old, enjoy yoga, and love to meditate, although I don’t do it as often as I should do it. Running is really the thing I enjoy in my spare time. I feel creative and I love to craft as well; it helps me feel comfortable. I can find myself doing this for hours and I really enjoy designing and making t-shirts. The crafting is an excellent outlet for my creative energy and it is relaxing at the same time.
When I’m running, my mind feels free and open, I can let go of everything and just enjoy myself over the 6-7 miles I like to do. If I don’t run for a period of time, I can see the difference in me. I become anxious, irritated and discontent. The running clears my mind. Sometimes I don’t feel like running, then I will walk a race and just enjoy myself being out and with other people.
At night I sleep with the television on. I need to turn it on when I go to bed, as I stop thinking and can just listen. This way my mind slows down and lets me go to sleep. I can also be up all night and read non-stop, as it makes me feel very good.
I hope my story will help someone come forward and get help without being afraid of stigma. We all have a lot to offer to this world. I hope more people would come forward and share about their problems, so we can get out of the belief that a mental health problem is any kind of weakness or craziness. Please share your story here, if you read it. I would love to come back and read yours also. Every person carries his own baggage, mine is maybe different than yours, but we are all the same in this.