Author: Keith Anderson

Worth Living Ambassador Natalie Volpicelli

Hi! I am Natalie Volpicelli, a rising third year studying Psychology and Economics and minoring in Entrepreneurship at the University of Virginia. All my life I have struggled with anxiety and OCD whether that was paranoia, insomnia, germaphobic, etc. However, five years ago my anxiety, OCD and unattainable strive for perfection manifested in a more physically damaging way: anorexia. Since then, I have had many ups and downs. I needed to come days away from death to realize my worth, but I hope that by sharing my story and new found confidence and strength with others they can use my experiences to see why life is “worth living.”

“It’s Not Me, It’s You”

On the anniversary of FOUR YEARS since I was released from being hospitalized, I decided to share a letter I wrote while there. The prompt was a “letter to my eating disorder.” At the time, a love letter would have been much easier, but I mustered up the courage to write a break up letter (wasn’t quite brave enough to do a face to face one yet… that one happened just about a month ago – better late than never?) While writing this, it was quite hard to believe my words, but I knew that one-day I would. I told myself to read it everyday since it was written to remind myself why I fight.

That didn’t happen.

In fact I got quite lost, while my letter hid away. Rather than taking up the healthy habits I dreamed of, I added depression, bulimia, and self-harm to my repertoire.

Then I found the letter again.

I did not physically hold it in my hand, but mentally the mind frame came back. I found why I fought so hard in the hospital to beat my eating disorder again. I saw all that was lost and dreamed of all I could gain if I just gave up my eating disorder.
And no, that wasn’t just pounds.

It was moments: moments with my family enjoying dinners and holidays together because fighting about one more bite of the famous Volpicelli pasta sauce, rigatoni and meatballs or 1200 Christmas cookies that we spent 3 days making really isn’t worth ruining my favourite holiday or moments with my friends drinking and eating late night snacks while trying to forget the exam we may have failed but still laughing and enjoying every moment because a B really IS NOT the death of me. All the moments began consuming my life rather than my eating disorder.

Finally, I re-joined cheer. I shouldn’t have made the team. It was a highly competitive university squad and I was nowhere near where I was pre-ED…but the coach heard my story and found something in me she liked. If someone I just met believed in me this much to take a girl who falls to her head trying to do a backhand spring now because her arms are now no muscle, no fat, just bone, then why shouldn’t I believe in me? Why shouldn’t I want to prove her right and prove that I am worthy of this spot? And that started with eating. So now, 15 pounds and three months later I am PAST my goal weight and actually revisited this letter, for real.

I can share this and mean it. I can read it and believe it.

So please enjoy this now maybe too highly anticipated break up story…

Dear NED (Natalie’s Eating Disorder),

It’s been a year since you have come into my life. As I look back at this year, I can see all the comfort you have provided me. I was lost when you came and I used you as guidance. I was alone when you came and I used you as a friend. I was confused when you came and I used you as an answer. I was stressed when you came and I used you as relief. And now here we are a year later and you want to celebrate a one-year anniversary. Celebrate a year of artificial peace and a hope for many more years together. But you are wrong. Because here I am, a year later, and I am not the weak girl you met then. I am not “little Natalie,” I am grown up. I never would have believed I could say goodbye to you or my “perfect, ideal” image, but I am ready.

I know you are a creation of my anxiety and perfectionism, but at times you felt so real. All of your promises of “being the best” athlete, student, or person because of your rules seemed so attainable. But in fact, you were like a parasite feeding off me at my most vulnerable point in order to keep yourself alive. You sucked the life out of me. My social life, my concentration, my sanity, my health: all gone within months. Because of you I went from happy and healthy to living a life of paranoia, 16 hour workouts a day with little nutrition, and shivering in ninety-degree weather.

For a year you tricked me into thinking I was nothing and the only way I could be worth love was by listening to you, and suddenly it turned into only wanting to be worth your love, but you never gave it to me. Instead you gave me nothing but lies and hatred. Every time I saw my weight drop 100…90…80…70… you made me feel like I was accomplishing something, making all of my discomfort and health issues seem insignificant. You pushed me around, and fogged the pain with a false hope of happiness. You took advantage of my need to please and longing to be perfect and set the bar to an impossible standard waiting, wishing, and hoping for every failure so you could degrade me. And a year later you want me to sit passively so you can take advantage of me once again. You want me to forget the people who really love me and forget the things that really make me happy and replace true peace with your false sense of sanity and happiness. But I will not let you trick me like that anymore.

Why must you insist on contaminating me? And it is not only me. I see you tearing down my friends and tormenting all of the over-achievers and girls with perfectionism and high-expectations running in their blood…just like me. Everywhere I am, I hear your influence. Every conversation, every commercial, every show is all about being perfect. I have never been one to worry about other’s opinions, but you made me think twice. How did you break through my wall? How did you consume me and turn me into nothing? You made my thoughts seem normal, even “healthy.” Was that your twisted way of controlling me?

You tried to take my talents away from me, ruining everything I get joy out of. School became difficult: instead of studying, I was exercising; instead of focusing on notes, I was focusing on you. Sports were taken away from me. I went from a powerful high-level gymnast to barely able to walk up stairs…an all star cheer captain to a no-muscle, purple-skinned piece of glass, breaking with every hit. You took me away from my friends, and tried to force me to only befriend you. You turned me against my family and mutated my home into endless fights, tears, and shame.

I bet you were upset when I learned how to reach out to others for help, seeking comfort in shared ice creams and laughter rather than the empty stomach and tears you offer. And when I have that extra snack so I can finally cheer again, how betrayed will you feel? Or when I skip a workout to study my way into UVA? I know how furious this will make you, but it will make me finally feel…free.

To be honest, you can try to tear me down and try to keep making your way into my life, but there is no longer room for you.

I am stronger.

I work harder.

I am more than an eating disorder.

I deserve much better than you.

Yes, I was lost and used you for guidance, but now I have my rationality leading the way. Yes, I was alone and used you as a friend, but I have friends and family who love me unconditionally. Yes, I was confused and used you as an answer, but now I have answers that do not cause me physical or emotional damage. Yes, I was stressed and used you as relief, but now I have new ways to find relief. And yes it is a year later and I was attached to you for that whole year, but not anymore. Thank you for helping me see everything I have and everything that makes life worth living, but your purpose was served and it is time for me to move on. I know who loves me, I know what makes me happy, and I know I do not need you.

Goodbye and So Long, Natalie

Worth Living Ambassador Taylor Collins

My name is Taylor, I’m 23 years old and a mother, living with Schizoaffective Disorder. If you don’t know what that is, it means I have extreme hallucinations and delusions caused by Schizophrenia and a mood disorder with uncontrollable episodes of mania and depression caused by Rapid Cycling Bipolar Disorder.

It’s Never Too Late for Recovery

I’ve been Schizoaffective since I was younger than five years old but I wasn’t diagnosed until I was 22. I’ve been living with the disorder untreated for over 17 years. Therefore, it has progressed immensely over time. I’m constantly hallucinating and always on the borderline of being present with reality and being stuck on multiple planes of existence that, apparently, only exist in my mind. I often feel like I’m losing my mind. The older I get the darker the illness becomes, even now that I’m on medication and attending therapy weekly.

Schizoaffective Disorder is a daily struggle for me and I know it is for many others as well, which is why I choose to advocate for people with mental illnesses and be open about mine and how it affects my life daily. I stand along with many others who strive to end the stigma against mental illness. I hope that I can help others living with this disorder to know that they’re not alone and that anyone reading this can identify these symptoms in themselves or a loved one so they can seek out the psychiatric help they need before the disorder progresses.

I always wonder what my life could have been like if I got the psychiatric help I needed as a child. Would I have graduated from college on time? Would I have a successful career? I never got the help I needed early on because everyone around me believed and supported my delusions.

When I was a child, I told my family and friends that I thought I could see and hear dead people. I would hear voices whispering to me, I would see shadow figures, faces looking through the windows, people chasing me, objects in the house move by themselves, doors and cabinets would open and close violently. I used to think I was haunted. I was a medium and spirits from the other side would come to me because they knew I could see and hear them. I would also tell people that I’m psychic and that I could see the past, present, and future. I could think of a person and look into their lives as if I was seeing it from their very eyes. Most people believed me, others thought I had a vivid imagination. My family thought I really was a psychic medium, so they told me to never tell doctors about my experiences because they’ll put me on medication that would ruin my mind and my organs. This was why I went so many years without treatment.

I even experienced episodes of paranoia, mania, and depression as a child. At times I would become extremely fearful of my hallucinations; it wasn’t the type of fear that most children feel, I was literally in fear for my life. I used to think ghosts or aliens were out to get me. I would cover all of the mirrors and TV’s with blankets so I couldn’t see the monsters. At some periods of time, I barely slept at night. I’d stay awake doing puzzles, building websites, drawing or watching music videos on MTV. For weeks at a time, I would stay awake the whole night then get ready for school in the morning only to fall asleep at my desk in class where I felt safe. I was productive with my school work and sociable with friends. Other times, I stopped doing my school work completely and became very withdrawn and unresponsive to other people. After school I would go to my room and isolate myself from the rest of the world, often sleeping for extended periods of time.

I had this delusion that I was “special” until I was 22 years old. I didn’t believe I had a chemical imbalance in my brain causing me to hallucinate all of these years. Things began to change after I started college and lived on my own.

I was once a very productive, smart, hardworking girl. I graduated high school a year early and as Valedictorian. At one point I went to college while working three part-time jobs. My ultimate goal was to attend the University of Michigan and be the first person in my entire family to graduate from college. I wanted to be an entrepreneur and start up several businesses, boosting the economy and creating jobs for people, as well as continue my education and later go into medical researching as a career. However, when my illness began to peak all of my hopes and aspirations came crashing down all around me, causing me to slip deep into a depressive state that lasted for years. Devastatingly to me, during my Junior year of college at an Ivy League school, I lost my scholarship due to what I now realize were psychotic breaks. My heart is still broken as I write this from my unattained goals. Graduation time is especially hard for me to handle, as I watch my friends go on to graduate school without me.

Even after being forced to quit school, I still had no idea I was living with Schizoaffective Disorder. I thought I had failed at life. I was very hard on myself, maybe, I still am.

During college, I was bouncing back and forth between manic and depressive episodes. I stopped putting on makeup, showering, and brushing my hair and teeth. I would spend days, weeks even, lying in bed lacking the motivation to go to class for no apparent reason. I thought I was too smart and that it was a waste of my time, that I was going to pass with straight A’s no matter what. I would go on shopping sprees, buying things like ten shampoo bottles at once thinking I was being smart and saving money. I would go days without sleeping or eating. This uncontrollable, erratic behavior is what caused me to fail out of college. I became very depressed thinking that my life was over and that I would never accomplish any of my goals.

Out of my depression, I began partying all day and night. Inviting strangers over to my house, drinking and popping any pill I could get my hands on to cover up what I was really feeling inside. This lasted about a month until I became pregnant. I ended all of that destructive behavior as soon as I found out I was about to be a mother. I had to get my life together.

While pregnant, I tried to go back to school at a community college. I was feeling extremely happy and strangely uplifted and euphoric. At one point during my pregnancy, I had the delusion that God was speaking to me telling me that the world needed my son to stop the Anti-Christ so I had to make sure I was the perfect mother. I completed one semester with a perfect 4.0 GPA; YES! I thought, I’m back and I can do this. Oh boy, was I wrong.

The first week after I had my son I started hallucinating again. I was giving him his first bath at home when I saw a shadow figure with red eyes and a top hat standing in the water. It scared me to death. I screamed and I immediately got my son right out of the bath. My family still thought I was seeing spirits; those evil entities were trying to attach themselves to our new baby. I didn’t give my son a bath for a few months after that, I would always ask family members to bathe him. I felt like I wasn’t a good mother, I couldn’t do a simple task like bathing my son because I was so fearful of my hallucinations.

I became pregnant a second time and decided to put school on hold again. After I had my second child, a girl this time, the whispers came back to me. They were telling me to do violent things to myself, my property, and other people. I was a single mother at this time and living alone, so I refused to believe that evil spirits had been following me all my life like my family led me to believe. This was when I started to realize that there was possibly something wrong with my brain chemistry. I still didn’t believe it was psychosis, I thought maybe it was post-partum depression causing me to have these intrusive thoughts.

Eventually, my symptoms subsided so I believed my “depression” was fading away. Now that I was starting to feel better again, school still wasn’t an option because I needed to support my two children on my own. I decided it was time for me to go back to work, but it didn’t go as smoothly as I had hoped.

I wasn’t able to hold a job for longer than a month. I was fired or forced to quit because I was suffering from hallucinations and delusions which caused severe distress and panic amongst my coworkers and customers. I believed that my boss and my coworkers were out to get me and playing tricks on me every day when in reality this wasn’t true at all. I often held management positions, and on several different accounts hundreds of dollars came up missing during my shifts. I thought someone was plotting against me and blaming me for stealing money. At one particular job as a waitress, I would have  hallucinations of  customers sitting down and wanting to order food. I was taking orders for non-existent people. When my coworkers noticed, they asked me what I was doing.

“There’s no one there, Taylor. Are you sure you’re okay?”

I became very embarrassed and angry. I started yelling at my coworkers in front of customers. When my coworkers gave me this reality check I would have meltdowns where I used to sob endlessly for hours. Obviously, these meltdowns and psychotic breaks hindered my job performance. I was a mess. I slipped back into depression after repeating that embarrassing cycle, job after job after job. I wondered- how am I going to support my family if I can’t keep a job?

I started to give in to the demands of the voices. Destroying my property, harming myself, but I was mentally strong enough to be able to refuse their demands to hurt anyone else. Eventually, I couldn’t handle the mental torture anymore. I became very suicidal and attempted to end my life on several different occasions. I felt like I was truly crazy, that I was a terrible mother and that my children would be better off without me. Thank God I didn’t succeed and I have the strength to share my story openly today.

One day I realized I was living in the wrong mindset and I finally decided to get help. Thanks to my medication and CBT (Cognitive Behavioral Therapy) I am working on changing harmful beliefs and behaviors and starting the recovery process. This illness has been extremely debilitating, still today I have dark moments and lose all hope to continue on with my life. But I have not given up. If you are feeling any type of darkness; DO NOT GIVE UP. It’s up to you to take the first steps towards recovery.

Worth Living Ambbassador and Official DJ Scratchley Q

Worth Living Top 10 Countdown – Reaching Out for Help Anthems

Here is this week’s Worth Living top 10 countdown. This week most of the music on this list raises awareness about mental health or has been created to encourage people to reach out and ask for help. Enjoy – Scratchley Q
10. Why – Rascal Flatts

9. Make It Stop (September’s Children) -Rise Against

 8. This Song Saved My Life – Simple Plan

7. Give It All -Train

6. Beautiful Pain- Eminem ft. Sia

5. Hope -Natasha Bedingfield

4. Try Again – Seein

3. There is Hope -Hope for Mental Health

2. Praying -Kesha

1. 1-800-273-8255 -Logic ft. Alessia Cara & Khalid

Bonus video… Logic breaks down the lyrics and meaning of his song 1-800-273-8255

Worth Living Ambassador Felicia Singh

Hello, my name is Felicia. I am a 25 year old healthcare professional and
counseling/psychology student with anxiety. As well as someone with an unexplainable
yearning to understand mental health disorders. The who, what, where, when, and whys of it all.

Caution: Felicia discusses Self-harm and Suicide

Cutting

So it’s a usual Sunday morning for me. I’m easing into the second half of my weekend morning
routine which is to sit down coffee in hand with a book, magazine, blog post, you get the jist.

I come across this article in WebMD called the perils of cutting. At first I wasn’t going to
read it. But then I thought this is definitely mental health related so I probably should. I’m
always interested in learning about different aspects of mental related illnesses.

The article was informative. It gave the following numbers of people that cut, scratch, burn, or
bring other bodily harm to themselves. With more than 13% of the adolescents in the U.S that
suffer from this problem and 6% of adults in the U.S that also suffer from this issue. Now I have
only known one individual that has dealt with and overcame this issue. It was a long road of
therapy, medication, expressive outlets, and a great support system.

Control is something we all want on some level or another. We want to be in control of
ourselves and our lives. Those that cut themselves will tell you that the act is not about
mutilating themselves but instead it’s about control. When you inflict physical pain on yourself it
takes your mind off of other things. It creates a mental distraction if you will. This may be a lot
for some of us to wrap our mind around. I personally had a hard time understanding this
concept as our issues don’t simply go away because we don’t think about them. I do understand
that not all of us think in practical terms especially when we are hurting and struggling to find
coping mechanisms and even more so when dealing with any mental health related illness the
word practical belongs no where near that discussion. However, this is definitely not a healthy or productive way to deal with emotions. Based on the numbers I realize that this is a more common issue among adolescents than adults. Which makes sense as teens are in the halfwaypoint between childhood and adulthood. They are still trying to find themselves and are building the necessary skills to be able to deal with the trials of the world.

I don’t have children so I can’t speak on the whole parenting topic in extent. But I will say that
during the adolescent years support and understanding is very crucial for the developing mind.
Therapy and support groups would be beneficial for both younger people and adults that deal
with this problem. Inflicting physical pain on oneself is never the answer. It doesn’t solve
anything and in fact it creates more of an issue. Studies show that people that cut themselves
are seven times more likely to attempt suicide than those that do not. Numbing the pain is not
healing.

We must learn to view our lives as something worth living. Working through our issues
brings peace to our lives. Things will never be perfect but I do believe we all have the ability to
live happy fulfilling lives.

Worth Living Ambassador Chloe Shadbolt

I created my blog  Anxiety, Depression, and Me (www.anxietydepressionandme.com) with the aim of raising awareness for mental health. I focus on sharing a positive outlook on the subject in addition to sharing my personal story alongside the mental health journeys of others.

Is Social Media Bad for Our Mental Health?

Social media is a huge part of a majority of our lives. But is this having a negative effect on our mental health?
A poll of 1500 14-24 year olds recently revealed that social media sites (such as Instagram, Facebook, Snapchat and Twitter) have increased their feelings of inadequacy and anxiety.

Poll – https://www.theguardian.com/society/2017/may/19/popular-social-media-sites-harm-young-peoples-mental-health

Out of all of these, Instagram has been deemed the worst social media platform for this (probably because it’s predominately image focused). The poll revealed that social media poses body image worries, worsens bullying, promotes sleep problems and increases the likelihood of obtaining anxiety, depression and loneliness. On the other hand, the poll also praised social media for the following reasons: self-expression, self-identity, and emotional support.
So let’s divide this post into positives and negatives and look at the question in further detail. We’ll start with the negatives so that we can end on a positive note.

The negatives…

1. Firstly, it is not unknown for social media to be perceived as a filtered sense of reality. We usually only show the most positive aspects of our lives. And this is okay – it’s great to post the positives. However, it does sometimes mean that it leads to people critically comparing their own life with others which gives them a false measure of successes and failures. This is where it can get dangerous.

2. With a false sense of complete reality out there, insecurities lead to low self-esteem particularly with image focused accounts such as Instagram and Snapchat.

3. Expectations of what the ‘perfect’ body looks like (if there is such a thing) can lead to insecurities, body dysmorphia, and depression particularly with the opportunity to edit photos alongside the list of ever growing filters – insecurities are only on the rise.

4. Sleep problems are also heavily influenced by social media. We’ve all heard the stories, perhaps even guilty of them ourselves – where we’ve stayed up until 3am watching YouTube videos and browsing Facebook and Instagram before realising the time.

5. Cyber-bullying is unfortunately a negative element of social media and is something that cannot be ignored.

The positives…

1. Social media isn’t all negative. In fact it’s a very powerful tool which can enable us to reach more people. For me, this is great as it allows me to raise more awareness for mental health. For others, it has helped them raise awareness and money for charity projects on which  they may be working.

2. There is also an opportunity to reach people who are also passionate in the same areas as you. For example, I have connected with other mental health ambassadors and also those who are on the road to recovery. This is great as you can be (almost!) in a world where stigma doesn’t exist.

3. There’s also the benefit of tailoring your online community to those you want to follow and those you don’t. You can also block unwanted negativity from your pages (which proves more difficult to do within the real world).

4. Through social media, I have found that myself and others have used it to display their journey but also to begin the road to recovery. The first step of recovery is acceptance and social media can actually help you to do that – whether you want to share your personal story or not. So in a way, social media can actually help those with mental health conditions.

To summarise…

Are we more comfortable online than we are in the ‘real’ world?

I think this is the question we need to consider. From here we can decide as individuals whether social media has a positive or negative impact on our lives. Social media can be great, but like many things it does carry negatives along with it. It’s important to get the balance right. Although social media can be a great way to communicate in the modern world, it is not healthy to invest too much time into it. Real life friendships and communication are incredibly important and should not be overlooked.

Mentalhealth.org recently posted a blog post (https://www.mentalhealth.org.uk/blog/social-media-and-young-peoples-mental-health) which shares signs to help you identify whether you are being adversely affected by social media. I have posted them below so that you can make a personal judgement as to whether you think social media may be affecting you in a negative way.

Personal review…

• Do you have low self-esteem?
• Do you feel low when you see other people’s images and lifestyle?
• Do you envy other people’s lives/wish your life was like someone else’s?
• Do you consider social media as your first and only choice of activity done for enjoyment?
• Recently feel disconnected and don’t have as many face-to-face conversations with your relatives and friends?
• Being unable to do anything without feeling you need to share it online?

Worth Living Ambassador Felicia Singh

Hello, my name is Felicia. I am a 25 year old healthcare professional and
counseling/psychology student with anxiety. As well as someone with an unexplainable
yearning to understand mental health disorders. The who, what, where, when, and whys of it all.

My Mind

A creative playing ground

A safe space

A scary place

A faceless face

A machine

An opaline

Forever changing

But always engaging

The key to connectivity & proclivity

Untapped potentials

Overt yet covert

A game player

Conscious vs unconscious

Intricate yet delicate

Connected but disconnected

Beautifully created

Never outdated

Slated by society

Shaped by propriety

Memories stowed away for a later day

Thoughts that run wild and want to play

Always in control

The lifelong hold

Worth Living Ambassador Cat Davis

Hello. My name is Cat, and I am a 20-year-old diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Reading and writing became my solace during the darkest times in my life: the times when my journal seemed to be my only friend, the times when my jaw forgot how to make sounds, and my mind failed to form relationships with others. I decided to post my journals on a personal blog, both as a way of releasing my emotions and as a way to continue the mental illness conversation. Through writing out my experiences, I hope to provide hope—even the teeniest tiniest amount, even to only one person—because one cannot survive without hope. Hope is the genesis of recovery. Hope inspires hope. Thank you.

Who Am I If I’m Not Manic

Before sharing my story, I want to make sure everyone is on the same page. So let’s talk a bit about this mysterious illness called “bipolar disorder.”

A person with bipolar disorder fluctuates between two extreme mood states: depression and mania.

I assume most of you know what depression is: feelings of sadness, hopelessness, thoughts of suicide, you know, the stuff you see on antidepressant commercials. I do not mean to write off the severity of depression; it is a debilitating disorder that affects about 7% of the US population, including me. I just mean to say that I believe more people know what depression is than what mania is. I sure did before my bipolar diagnosis.

Mania is a whole different monster. Mania involves grandiose thinking, feelings of euphoria, racing thoughts, high energy, impulsivity, irritability, and other inappropriate social behaviors. A manic episode may feel like the most exhilarating time of a patient’s life, or it may feel like the scariest. I think of my episodes as either “good mania” or “bad mania.”

Bipolar 1 disorder differs from bipolar 2 in that the patient experiences at least one manic episode that results in hospitalization. A person with bipolar 2 instead experiences “hypomanic episodes” (hypo- meaning less, as in less severe) without hospitalization. I am bipolar 1.

Okay, now that we’re all together, on to the main act.

I experienced both manic and depressive symptoms for six years before being diagnosed with bipolar 1 disorder at the ripe age of 20.

But before I was diagnosed with bipolar, I was diagnosed with unipolar depression.

Why?

Because my mania was considered my normal. By everyone. My mania was me. No disorder. No craziness. Just me.

When I didn’t sleep or eat for days, I was me. Because sleeping and eating got in the way of more important tasks, like studying and partying.

When I spent hundreds of dollars on an impulsive shopping spree, I was me.

When my mind buzzed with one million thoughts per hour without pause, I was me. I started up so many projects, too many projects, truly believing I would accomplish all of them, but never did.

When I laughed and yelled and leapt and ran and couldn’t shut up and couldn’t calm down, I was me.

The symptoms I describe above characterize my “good mania.” The mania that was me.

I was perfectly fine being manic.

Until I discovered my “bad mania.”

Bad mania involves screaming and crying and panic attacking and sitting in a bathtub for hours and refusing to get out until someone drags me out out by my wrists and ankles. And begging God to kill me. And trying to kill me.

I sat across from a therapist, and another therapist, and a psychiatrist, who all decided that my bad mania was not mania at all but a symptom of “Major Depressive Disorder.”

They put me on an antidepressant. On this antidepressant, my brain switched between mania and depression faster than ever before, up and down and up and down and up and down. When a bipolar person experiences abnormally fast changes in mood, the professionals call it “rapid cycling.” I call it crazy. The antidepressants made me crazy.

But I hid my crazy well. Too well. I only showed my good mania. The professionals thought I was getting better.

Until I couldn’t hide my crazy any longer, and I wound up in a psychiatric hospital.

And then I wound up in another psychiatric hospital.

And then I was diagnosed with bipolar 1.

And then I found out my mania isn’t my normal.

And then everyone found out my mania isn’t my normal.

And then I found myself engulfed in a total and complete identity crisis. If my mania isn’t my normal, what is?

After I was diagnosed with bipolar, I impatiently waited six months to become “stable.” I didn’t believe in stable. I didn’t believe drugs could make me stable, especially not after my horrific experience on antidepressants.

I woke up one morning.

And I wrote down in my journal that I felt stable.

And I continued writing “stable” in my journal every day for three weeks.

And then I believed in stable.

Stability shone light on who I am if I’m not manic.

Here is a generalized list of my personality traits when I am stable, when I am really me, and not manic me:

I have high self-esteem. I take care of myself by sleeping 9-10 hours most nights, eating healthy (most of the time), and exercising regularly. I listen to what my body needs. I do not race through life at full speed until I collapse.

I am an extrovert. I enjoy partying as a way to meet new friends and mingle with old ones. I allow myself time to be around others without overstaying my welcome.

But I am also an intellectual. I enjoy learning, and thus I enjoy studying (as much as a college student can realistically enjoy studying, of course). My mind knows how to focus on one thought at a time.

I am spontaneous. I love planning random weekend trips with my friends. I love buying presents for others, just because the gifts remind me of them. If I need a bubble bath instead of another long night in the library, I take a bubble bath. I am spontaneous, but I am not impulsive. My spontaneity makes sense. It is for a purpose. My manic impulsivity does not make sense. There is no purpose.

I am creative. I come up with ideas faster than I can write them down. I dream big. But I distinguish between goals I can or cannot accomplish at the given time. Writing a memoir became my big dream six months ago, right after I was discharged from my second psychiatric facility. That’s a prime example of the difference between manic me and stable me: I’ve followed through with my idea to write about my disorder. Manic me would have given up months ago.

I am passionate. I love speaking about anything and everything that fascinates me. I love arguing, but when I’m stable, I keep my head cool. When I’m manic, I explode.

Bipolar is all about extremes. Thus my bipolar exacerbates many of my personality traits. It turns my high self-esteem into grandiosity. It turns my spontaneity into impulsivity. But it is not who I am in and of itself. I am sometimes manic me. I am sometimes depressed me. But my realest, truest self is stable me.

Please visit my personal blog at www.highrisk1.wordpress.com/

Worth Living Official DJ Scratchley Q

Happy Canada 150! Canada has so much to celebrate! Why not celebrate with some of Canada’s amazing musical talent. The list of Canadian musicians is long but here are just 50 artists/ songs that truly represent Canada! Enjoy EH! -DJ Scratchley Q

50. Western Skies – Blue Rodeo

49. The Canadian Dream – Sam Roberts Band

48. Home for a Rest- Spirit of the West

47. NorthWest Passage- Stan Rogers

46. I’m Like A Bird- Nelly Furtado

45. You Could Have Been a Lady- April Wine

44. Highway of Heroes- Trews

43. Working Man- Rita MacNeil

42. Sweet City Woman- Stampeders

41. Put Your Head On My Shoulder- Paul Anka

40. I Don’t Know- Sheepdogs

39. Heart Of Gold- Neil Young

38. If I Had A Million Dollars- Barenaked Ladies

37. The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald- Gordon Lightfoot

36. If A Tree Falls- Bruce Cockburn

35. Life Is A Highway- Tom Cochrane

34. You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet- Bachman Turner Overdrive

33. You Oughta Know- Alanis Morissette

32. We’re Here For A Good Time- Trooper

31. Tom Sawyer- Rush

30. Love YourSelf- Justin Bieber

29. Secrets- The Weeknd

28.4 3 2 1-  K-os

27. Take A Minute- K’naan

26. Who Do You Love- Marianas Trench

25. Innocent- Our Lady Peace

24. Run Away With Me- Carly Rae Jepsen

23. O Canada- Classified

22. Hallelujah- Leonard Cohen

21. Started From The Bottom- Drake

20. Believe In You-  Michael Buble

19. Bungalow- Scott Helman

18. Good Mother- Jann Arden

17. Mercy- Shawn Mendes

16. Running- Jully Black

15. You Can’t Let Go- Crystal Shawanda

14. Ho wFar I’ll Go- Alessia Cara

13. You Got To Run- Buffy Sainte- Marie

12. Comin’ Home- City In Colour

11. C Jam Blues- Oscar Peterson

10. That Don’t Impress Me Much- Shania Twain

9. The Power of Love- Celine Dion

8.Northern Touch- Rascalz

7. Four Strong Winds – Ian Tyson

6. Summer of ’69- Bryan Adams

5. Snowbird- Anne Murray

4. Running Back to Saskatoon- The Guess Who

3. Let Your Backbone Slide- Maestro Fresh Wes

2. Wheat Kings- The Tragically Hip

1. The Hockey Song- Stompin’ Tom Connors

Bonus Track… When I’m Up- Great Big Sea

DJ Scratchley Q

Worth Living Ambassador Thomas Morgan

My name is Thomas Morgan. I am a 21-year-old Sociology student at Acadia University in Wolfville, Nova Scotia. I am a brother to a younger sister, an older sister, and an older brother. I am a son to two wonderful parents. I have Bipolar Disorder and I am a suicide survivor, but I am so much more than either of those things. I’m just trying to figure out the specifics of who that is.

Caution: Thomas discusses Suicide with graphic language

Coming Out of My Fog

This is a fairly long article, and before I begin I just wanted to clarify that I am in a good head space right now. I have great friends, I have been seeing a nice girl, I am beginning to get a regular schedule back in my life, and my family just found out that I have another older sibling on my dad’s side! I haven’t felt this good in a couple months.

In April,  I went on my first vacation outside of Canada with my best friends to celebrate some of them graduating. I managed to keep up with my medications, as well as maintain the proper diet to go along with them. I could not name a single bad experience or thought I had on that trip. The entire experience was something out of a dream.

The problem with dreams is that, eventually, you wake up. Within a week of coming back, I began to have this mixture of feelings between dread and numbness. You see, one of the things I had never taken into account was that stability with Bipolar Disorder requires a solid routine. I had become so accustomed to my friends constantly being around and always having something to do. When I returned, I had nothing to do but play video games. I had my friends, but as I got deeper into the episode the less I saw that. Then my car broke down and when I called to inform my parents of this I found out my Mom had been extremely sick since I went to Cuba. Thankfully, she is doing much better now.

All of these things threw me into a deep depression. It felt as if it was just a tiny snowball rolling down a mountain and within minutes it hit the bottom and was 300 pounds. The few problems that started the descent had ended up being just small parts of the entire episode. They compounded with countless other thoughts, events, and voices.

I would only leave my room to use the washroom. I didn’t eat for three days. When I did, I ordered a family meal for pizza delivery. It was gone within less than 12 hours. My dad, who knew I was feeling depressed, would call me between three to four times a day. I can honestly say that the only time I had felt this down was back in 2013 in the weeks leading up to my suicide attempt. That voice, the screaming, came back one night. It had me on the floor crying. I needed to feel something, I needed to show myself that I was not out yet. I kept telling myself I was not going to make another attempt. I wasn’t strong enough alone, but I had people behind me who loved me who I had to keep going for. Like I said though, I needed to feel something. Anything that would make me feel alive.

I wasn’t myself when I thought this plan through. I got up and grabbed one of my knives. I sat down and stabbed myself in the leg about six inches below my waist. I nearly did it right above my anniversary tattoo on my forearm, but I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want to look at the scar in a few months and be reminded. At least with this positioning the wound is constantly covered. It may be unsurprising looking back at it, but that didn’t help the situation in the slightest. Now I was just a depressed mess with a bloody leg. Who would have guessed?

Anyways, I began drowning out the voice with music on my computer. I made sure to start accomplishing what some may consider little things, like actually getting out of bed, brushing my teeth, and cleaning my desk. I slowly began feeling better. Little victories were soon followed by big ones such as showering, cleaning my room, and leaving the house. I tried to give the impression I was stable much sooner then I actually was, but each day was a little bit easier.

Once I actually began to feel stable again, I began writing more spoken word poetry. When I opened the book containing my poems, I found something I had clearly wrote during the depressive episode. I was in such a fog at the time that I hardly remember writing it. Originally, I was going to tear it up and throw it away, but I decided to keep it. It is my way of describing what I conquered this time, similar to my tattoos.

DNR

My life is filled with nothing but long nights and short meaning.
There are days where I hold my hand over the fire
and no matter how hard I try I can’t make that beautiful.
It isn’t poetic.
It just burns. It burns and burns
and I can’t…
I won’t take my hand off that flame.
It’s the only warmth I feel.

In my first article for Worth Living, I stated that I accepted my mental illness, that it made me a better person. I still believe that. However, that doesn’t mean that I don’t have days where I feel like the entire world is falling down around me and it’s my fault. I do. Often. But, everyone has their struggles, and there are people who have it far worse than I.

I debated sharing this information with anybody, but eventually I decided that it was what would be best for me. I don’t like things going unsaid. If I have thoughts about anything I tend to make the message loud and clear. Some have told me I share too much when it comes to my illness, suicide attempt, or depression. Fuck them. I share the stories I share because talking about my problems is what I have found to help my mental health more than any medication or exercise. I encourage anybody reading this to try having a similar outlook, do what helps your mental health the most and forget about those people that make judgements. There is no “magic pill” that works on everybody. What works for one may not work for another. It is entirely dependent on the person.

Please, if your own life or someone else’s is in danger, dial emergency immediately. Don’t hesitate. There are also various help lines you can contact to talk to somebody, or even to get some information. You are not alone.

Kids Help Phone (Ages 20 and Under): 1-800-668-6868
First Nations and Inuit Hope for Wellness: 1-855-242-3310
Canadian Indian Residential Schools Crisis Line: 1-866-925-4419
Trans LifeLine (All Ages): 1-877-330-6366

Worth Living Ambassador Precious A. Emodamori

Precious A. Emodamori is one of Nigeria’s Mental Health Advocates, blogger at www.idaretoblossom.org  , Content Manager and a seasoned Marketer who combines digital and traditional marketing skills to create brand awareness, promote public representation and boost businesses.

Her insight and passion for creating positive mental health awareness stems from her everyday life experiences and being diagnosed with bipolar disorder in 2003, following a nervous breakdown that resulted into a psychotic episode.

Will I Ever Be Okay?

The first thought that came to my mind when the doctor diagnosed me with Bipolar Disorder was, ‘will I ever be okay?’

The fear of the unknown was real. I was scared that life would never be the way it used to be prior to when I experienced a nervous breakdown in 2003. One major characteristic of living with Bipolar Disorder is the constant battle to live a balanced life. I had to develop coping skills to avoid living at any extreme ‘pole’ of life.

Developing coping skills at 20 while recovering from a major psychotic episode meant that I had to come to terms with myself and confront my limiting beliefs. I had to remind myself that life is a gift – a beautiful gift that deserves to be lived purposefully. I did a mental audit of the things I could do and the things that made me happy. Then I made the decision to live intentionally and keep going, regardless of the glary limitations.

For me, every day is an opportunity to live life to the fullest in all I do.

From my experience, anyone managing Bipolar Disorder may feel like a victim of the changes that accompany the diagnosis and treatment. There will be days you will feel so sad for no reason and you will be so excited on other days!
So far, living with Bipolar Disorder has taught me that everyone has the chance to be the best version of themselves if they unlearn helplessness, quit the victim mentality and follow a step-by-step process to live a purposeful life.

Every day, it’s becoming clearer to me that the answer to ‘will I ever be okay?’ is YES. A “yes” that is directly proportional to how I improve my mental wellbeing. How do I do this? By seeking professional help, taking my prescribed medication and making a commitment to myself to live life to the fullest. I recognise that even though I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder, I am not the diagnosis.

This is why I often say: ‘my name is Precious, I was Bipolar and I live a full life’ – a life that is Worth Living!