CHRONIC TONIC posts on Thursdays at 9 p.m. EST. It is a place to share stories, advice, and information and to connect with others with chronic health conditions and those who care for them. Our diarists will report on research, alternative treatments, clinical trials, and health insurance issues through personal stories. You are invited to share in comments (and note if you'd like to be a future diarist).
Tonight's diary by: paradox
Good Evening, Gentle People--
I am mentally ill, yes, but I am not broken. A quick way to get past the uneasy stigma when looking at it is to think of a knee with a slightly torn ACL, it didn’t get diagnosed and always gives the owner a “bum knee,” physically the person is not broken—is completely functional, in fact—but has that ding in the knee for some limitations. To a great extent that’s mental illness, a ding many owners get around or compensate for.
When at ease my brain jerks back in horror or revulsion at perhaps 40-50 memories that occurred in one 9-month span 25 years ago. That’s post traumatic stress syndrome, I’ve been in treatment 3 years. I had it untreated for six years, it faded and then came roaring back in 2008. With a lot of patient work the process is much better to go through than before, but I still have my days.
My stupid brain inflicts me with cyclical vomiting syndrome, a condition similar to migraines that makes me vomit on a remarkably consistent calendar cycle, or if I get upset enough. I’m in another “skip,” like many migraine sufferers after a decade the condition is fading out, I should have been sick last month but was not.
I’ve been having a blast with life with the new century, eh? Yeah. Given a choice I would instantly take the cyclical vomiting syndrome over ptsd, bummer I got both. Both are fading, both may flare back some, I’m still fucking here.
I’m employable, I work some, looking earnestly for more, I’m taking this meditation class, something I thought I’d never do. Most people with mental illness are dinged, there’s nothing to be ashamed of in getting help to get along in life. I work out well, hell I look good like always, just got my stuff.
I used to be ashamed and embarrassed to have some dents and dings but I really don’t why, hell I could care less who knows since New Year’s. I have a path before me, the truth won’t stop me, so think what ya’ll will. It took a while to get there.
I’m subbing on the fly for Ms. Grin so this is spit-out quick, but the only other thing I would add so fast is that mental dings are unfortunately uniquely personal. If you’ve got the mumps the virus or bacteria or whatever the mumps are will show you empirically with pathology, see those blobs in the microscope? Boom.
But a ptsd path and diagnosis is not like that at all, as are many mental issues. One can certainly get to a recognizable place that is classic ptsd, but the circumstances of it will make it uniquely yours, and only your own path of therapy or medication or whatever will bring you out of it. There’s no ptsd pill, but there is a personal path out if you take it. I think to a great extent—not all—the same could be said of depression.
Hell don’t think of me as some authority, I am a long way from being free of my ptsd torments completely. They don’t even have a clue as to why I usually puke every 30 days, Jesus Christ. But I’ve kept trying and I’m better, I can tell. So can my body.
Well, my ten minutes are up and it’s time to log in. Many times I am quiet in the comments, but for almost every Chronic Tonic I am here, reading and watching patiently, you know. No precise goal at all, just a quiet little comfort from folks who show up. In my little world in it can mean quite a lot some days.