Mental Health and Illness

by Christin Lucero September 27, 2022

Can you tell me what all the pictures above have in common? In every single one of them I am struggling severely with mental illness. "Fake it till you make it" has become a way of life for me. I can put on a smile and the world will never know the things I am battling internally, every. single. day.

For as long as I can remember, I have been battling mental illness. When I was a young child, I battled depression and anxiety and never even knew that's what was happening. Most kids come home from school and want to play with their friends, I wanted to sleep. I, and everyone in my family, just assumed I was lazy. What I couldn't articulate was that I wasn't lazy, I WAS EXHAUSTED. Like the kind of exhausted where you can't think or breathe. Most days it took everything in me just to get through the school day without crying, raging or being physically sick. Yep! Physical illness... did you know that stomachaches and headaches are a symptom of anxiety in children? Yeah, I didn't either. Neither did my mother. Kids who are "sick" all the time with no actual illness are just called hypochondriacs or drama queens and sometimes that's the case. But often times, its a manifestation of anxiety or depression. So, as a kid, my stomach and head hurt often. I was exhausted. I was overloaded by my own thoughts and emotions. And because I was a child, I had no idea how to tell my grown ups what was happening.

Fast forward a few years to middle school. The summer between 5th and 6th grade was a ROUGH one. My family bought some land in Milton, FL (about an hour from where we had been living for years) and we moved. I had gone to school with the same kids since kindergarten! I was 11 and obviously this was the end of the world as I knew it. I rebelled hardcore. I was ANGRY! I was sad and mostly I was, again, exhausted with living. It got a little better over months of dragging my ass out of the hole I wanted so badly to crawl into. Eventually, I made friends and started to develop a new "normal". Then, the night before my first day of 7th grade, my life changed forever. I will save the details for another post but, we got the call that my father had been killed. I was 12 years old and my dad was killed. The night before my first day of 7th grade! This began a spiral that took years to unravel.

But wait... it gets better! The week after my dad's funeral, we moved again. This time, we moved back home to Pensacola. This was something I wanted since we left. I should've been ecstatic, right? Nope. I was deeply depressed and couldn't even be excited to be home. I was changing schools again and this time to a school 3 times the size of my current one! But, as usual, I rallied and put my happy face on and tried to drag myself into the light. I got to school, semi-excited to see all of my old friends again, and I went to my first class where we did the pledge. I sobbed. For some reason, saying the pledge of allegiance was too much for me. So I sat down and sobbed. My teacher, horrible bitch, was angry that I didn't stay standing and, without checking in with me, she sent me to the office. So, I packed my shit and went to the office to call my mother to come pick me up. I just couldn't do this. As I was sitting in the office, I watched as the first plane flew into the world trade center. It was 9/11. Now, I had ZERO idea what I was watching but I could tell by the looks on the administrator's faces that this was bad. Another tragedy.

This isn't a story about my trauma, that's another post altogether! But, I wanted to tell you about that time because it set the tone for how my mental illness was treated for years to come. Everyone assumed my "anxiety and depression" was situational. I just wasn't "dealing well". UMMMMM no shit! But it wasn't that I couldn't deal with the situations. Ask anyone who knows me, I always deal. Mostly by pretending its not happening... that's healthy, right?!

I started on medication to help with my depression, at the suggestion of my therapist. I tried Zoloft, Wellbutrin, Prozac, Paxil, Lexapro, Effexor, Cymbalta, Celexa....... literally all of them! Nothing worked for me. They made me sick, sleepy or crazy. At this point in my life, we were just treating the depression symptoms and I truly believe that's why none of these medications every really worked. I eventually took myself off of everything. I refused to keep trying medications. I continued with therapy until I was 17 and then I stopped that also.

From 12-18 my life was one traumatic event after another and I started to believe that I really just couldn't deal. I needed coping skills. I somehow had missed a life course that should've taught me how to deal with "life". I had no idea that my life was far from normal. I thought everyone went through these things. I thought this was just how people were supposed to feel. BOY WAS I WRONG!

17 years old was the first time anyone offered another reason as to why I was struggling so bad, despite all efforts. Bipolar 2, generalized anxiety, and PTSD. That was my new diagnosis. What the heck is Bipolar 2? Well, it's a lot like Bipolar 1 with the mood cycles but, the "up" should never reach full blown mania. So that's good, I suppose. At least I knew I wouldn't ever be "too crazy". You're probably thinking "PTSD, really? You were 17 and not like you'd ever been to a war zone." Let me tell ya friends, yes the hell I had. No, I wasn't in the military fighting a war. No, I wasn't a victim of some terrible crimes. However, sexual abuse, physical abuse, several traumatic events and untreated mental illness is what led to the PTSD. It isn't just a veteran's diagnosis. I tried medication (more antidepressants) and again, no help. But, I had a "real" diagnosis. It wasn't in my head. I wasn't just weak.

A few years later, I was married, had my first son, and was going through a lot with them. This sparked another fun "episode" and I began sinking into my hole again. This time was different. I felt different. I was tired, but I couldn't sleep. I was sad, but I couldn't cry. I rarely felt happiness. I mostly felt rage. That wasn't an emotion I had dealt with much in the past. I began to take that rage out on my family. My sister started to hate me (I was a terrible TERRIBLE sister), my mother couldn't deal with me, my husband... well he just pretended it wasn't happening. But the worst part was that I was taking it out on my baby. I was so depressed and angry and I found that I was not being a good mother. This was the first time I had to use my son to pull myself out. I had to do this for him. In the past, I didn't have a reason to WANT to pull myself out of the bed. Now, I had to live for him. I have said so many times over the last 13 years that Lane saved my life, more than once. I began to rely on my love for him to keep me going every day. When I felt like I couldn't go on.... I looked at that little face and reminded myself that he needed me. I had to be better for him! Isn't it funny how we don't see ourselves as important enough to live for? But we will keep going for the people we love? I find that interesting.

When my little sister started college she was taking psychology courses. She learned so much and shared with me a ton of tricks and she became my in house therapist! I started to lean on her to help me through the rough days. I used to be ashamed and I hid the really bad days from my family. My sister and I got really close and I finally had a safe place. Yes, she is my little sister. Yes, I should be her leaning post. Welp.... one more thing I did wrong l0l My sister has literally had to sit with me in the shower. She has had to lay with me in bed, completely silent while I scream and cry because I can't do it anymore. She has had to physically pull my ass out of my bed and MAKE me get dressed and eat. She has had to yell at me to suck it the fuck up and pull myself out of it! She has seen me at my absolute worst and darkest moments. But ya know what..... she never judged me. She never made me feel crazy. She always validated my emotions. She made me feel safe. This is where I started to learn empathy. This is where I FINALLY started to heal.

So here I am in my mid 20's and I think I have a pretty good handle on my mental illness. No medications, no therapy... just introspection and a sister who was my backbone most days. But I was doing it. I went MONTHS without a depressive episode. I didn't have any suicidal thoughts. I was learning to be patient and kind again. PLOT TWIST.... I went into a full blown manic episode. Wait... WHAT?! But I thought Bipolar 2 was never going to end up here. This can't be mania... it has to be something else. Well.... let me give you a little list of symptoms.

ability to function with 1-2 hours of sleep a day
excessive spending
risky behaviors (wont go into detail just yet)
excessive drinking
starting a new project almost daily (rarely finishing)
suddenly had TONS of energy
I talked 90 miles per hour (I like to call it crack chat)

Yep... that sounds a whole lot like a manic episode. The worst part is that I LOVED IT! I loved this feeling. I was invincible! For the first time in my entire life, I felt like I could genuinely take on the world! I didn't know it was mania for a while. It happened suddenly and no one in my life had ever dealt with this. So, by the time someone suggested this was a manic episode, I had done a lot of damage. Thus started the depressive episode. You see, when you are someone who is suffering from Bipolar Disorder, the "wake up" moment where you start to see the damage your mania caused, the people you hurt, the financial hole you have to now dig yourself out of.... it's too much to handle. At least for me, my brain has two choices... ignore it and force myself to stay manic so that I don't have to deal with the consequences, OR allow myself to fall into an incredibly deep depression because my brain and my heart simply cannot handle the pain. So how do you choose? No, it isn't an actual choice. I don't get to say "oh yep I'm manic today". But my brain chooses. Without my input. Either way it's going to end badly and either way I have to eventually deal with the depressive episode. It's never fun. It's never a "good time". Actually, these episodes almost always fall at the most inconvenient times. But, after the depression comes some stability. For a little while I have "calm". I don't feel much of anything. Not happy. Not sad. Just..... nothingness. Which some would say is better than the mania and depression. Jury is still out on that one! l0l

Well after that first episode, my diagnosis changed to Bipolar 1. I also got diagnosed with ADHD. I don't know if I would call ADHD a "mental illness" but it definitely contributes to the battle. For a while, I cycled often... manic for a few weeks... depressed for a few weeks... level for a few months. I still had no idea how to handle this and no one around me knew anything about Bipolar Disorder. BUT they learned! My sister decided she had to learn how to help me. She studied it. She studied me! She started to see a pattern in my behavior that even I couldn't see. She educated herself so that she could educate me. I wasn't always receptive to her "help" though. Like I said earlier, I loved the mania. It was my "happy place". So I didn't always want to stop it. THAT IS NOT OK! Just a little friendly advice.... STAYING MANIC OR FORCING MANIC EPISODES IS NOT OK OR HEALTHY! I had to come to the realization that I was miserable and not taking care of my mental health. It wasn't just about the Bipolar Disorder, or the anxiety/panic attacks, or the PTSD. It was about not making myself, my happiness, a priority. Taking time to reflect on your life and REALLY see what makes you happy is so important, ESPECIALLY if you are someone who is battling mental illness. So I had to. I reevaluated my entire life. I put myself back into therapy, I got myself back on mood stabilizers, I started anxiety medication and I started to really look at the underlying issues. I had, and still have, a lot of baggage that I need to unpack. But once I started unpacking, my head got clearer. My battle became less overwhelming.

Growing up in the 90's and early 2000's, mental health wasn't something people talked about much. It was still very much a taboo subject. My family was better than some because we have a long family history of mental illness. But with kids, it wasn't something people really thought about. So it just didn't get talked about. No was was "gentle parenting". No one was teaching kids how to articulate what they were feeling and not just react. I am incredibly grateful that the world has changed! People are so much more aware. People are more compassionate (sometimes). Having people who know the good, bad and ugly is important. If you are struggling with any kind of mental illness, you need a safe person. Yes, being that person can be A LOT! It can be overwhelming and it can trigger your own mental health issues. But it is CRUCIAL for the person who needs to lean on you. Without my sister, I don't know who or where I would be. But I do know, I would not be here! Also, learning to be honest with yourself about how you're feeling is vital to recovery. If you can't be honest with yourself, how the hell can you be honest enough with someone else for it to be helpful?!

I'm not finished healing. I am definitely not finished unpacking the trauma but, I am so much closer than I was 10 years ago. I know how to set boundaries. I know how to say "I need help!". That whole needing help part was probably the biggest hurdle for me. I come from a line of seemingly strong independent women and needing help for ANYTHING made me feel weak. That is absurd, I know. We all need help. Asking for help, in my opinion, makes you much stronger than standing by and letting your health go to shit. Part of my healing was forgiving myself. I had to let myself be ok with all the mistakes I made while I was in a warzone. I had to make apologies.... A LOT! I had to learn to look at the world, and the people in it, just a little differently. EMPATHY is not something that comes naturally to me. But I am learning and I am becoming a better version of me every day. I burned a ton of bridges. I lost a lot of friends. I hurt so many people. I was awful.... really. And today, I can honestly say that I forgive her. I am not that person anymore. Yes, medication, therapy, meditation... that stuff is important for getting a handle on your mental health. But, for me, the most important piece of that puzzle was figuring out who I am, what makes me happy, what doesn't make me happy, forgiveness, empathy, and just trying to be the best version of me that I can be.

I will sum this post up with some advice. If you have a friend who is pulling away, doesn't answer your texts/calls, declines invites constantly.... show up at their house with some food and ready to hold them while they cry. If you have a friend who suddenly seems reckless, is partying A LOT, starts a random new business that they've never even mentioned.... talk to the people they love. Come up with a non-confrontational plan to sit down and talk to them about their behavior. If your partner is acting in a way that seems completely out of character or they seem to be experiencing emotions you haven't seen from them, reach out to their family. Educate yourself. If you know they have a mental illness, EDUCATE YOURSELF. DO NOT be the person who chooses to ignore it because you don't know how or because it's inconvenient. Be the person who calls her sister and says "I don't know what to do and I need your help. Can you please come over?". If you have a friend who can't force themselves out of it... HELP THEM! Be their accountability partner. Facetime them every morning and watch them take their medication. Text them regularly to check in. SHOW UP. Sometimes showing up is all it takes. I am no expert on mental illness or how to help everyone but, I know for sure that support and love can go a long way in their recovery!

Never be ashamed of who you are. Never let society make you feel weak. Take control of your life. That is an invaluable lesson!

If you or someone you love is struggling with thoughts of suicide, call 800-273-8255.

If you need an accountability partner, CALL ME!

If you need someone to listen without judgement, CALL ME!

Tell someone.

Hope you enjoyed the intro to the shit show that is my life!

XOXO-That One Bish