Mental illness and/or addiction is
something that affects approximately 1 in 5 Canadians in any given year.
Although we are taught to be compassionate towards these individuals, there is
still plenty of prejudice and ignorance in terms of the view of the lives these
people live. Myself, I suffer from OCD. It first made its presence known in
grade 4, making it even harder to understand. The things I had enjoyed became “dirty”. The things that were dirty became an area of avoidance
at all costs.
I remember the first moment I was made
aware something was amiss. It wasn’t my parents or a health care professional,
but a student, the same age as me. She asked me why I kept spitting in my
hands. To me, this was my form of making my hands clean if I had touched
something I perceived to be “dirty”.
Before this moment, I believed nothing was unordinary, but as I sat at my desk,
being asked by a 9 year old for an explanation I could not give, it clicked
that I wasn’t like the rest. My brain fired differently, sending out thoughts
and feelings that the other kids weren’t experiencing. I began to notice more
and more my actions. From jumping around spots on the ground, to avoiding
contact with feathers, to washing my hands until they were red, raw, cracked
and bleeding.
It’s truly a feeling I will never
forget: losing contact and being distanced by misunderstanding. Being made fun
of for something, I wasn’t given the proper tools, in order to manage the
irrationality of it all. I trucked on, with nobody but my parents by my side
and it’s to them I owe my life to. They brought me to the weekly cognitive
behavioural therapy (CBT) sessions and they helped accommodate my needs as I made
progress towards coping with it. They took the negativity I received and made
me feel just like everyone else. Eventually after about 7 years of weekly
sessions, I was symptom free, under control and able to be me again without restrictions.
Years went by and I found myself being
a third year student, in university with a solid support group of friends,
family, girlfriend and extra-curricular activities. Everything was smooth and
then in the matter of a month it all went downhill. OCD sometimes is triggered
through stress, traumatic events or even small things like remembering a
past thought (depending if you've had it before). For me, I was dealing with a
change in family dynamic and the stress of it all began presenting symptoms. I
ignored it is because I was in denial. I wanted to believe that it wasn't
making a return, but because of my negligence it had become 10 times worse than
it was as a child.
I was couch ridden, unable to open
doors and light switches, I was dodging and weaving, showering for extended
periods of time because something that was “dirty” grazed my leg, so I needed to wash my whole body. It
took until I was fully unable to function where I found myself in the emergency room at Credit Valley Hospital. They wanted to evaluate my health and I passed
out from merely taking blood. I was weak, and physically and mentally drained.
They suggested hospitalization until I could regain some strength. I refused
because I was (and still am) very stubborn. Instead, they prescribed some
medications, to take some of the edge off and on my decision, left to the
comfort of my home. It took about a month before the actual results began to
appear. I was much calmer, washing my hands less. I was given back rationality.
Although the improvement, I still wasn’t at a point where I felt I could be in
public. I wasn’t working and decided the stress of school was too much to
handle. I took time to rebuild and regain myself and despite my disinterest to
do so, it helped me more than I could have predicted.
Now, going into 2016, I’m in
school, I’m feeling good and the OCD has lessened. I have my bad days and good
days, but with the help of medication each day makes me stronger, making me push
forward towards becoming symptom free once again. My support system still
remains and what I attribute a lot of my success to. They became a reason to
get better when things seemed so bleak. They provided me with comfort when I felt so
alone, and gave me an outlet to express my thoughts.
The point of all this is not to have
people feel sympathy towards what I went through. It is to show that mental illness is strong and prevalent everywhere we step. It is something that should
be handled more seriously but delicately enough that people will want to
confide in a support system. While you walk down the hallways of the school,
look around. You don't know what people have going on, you don't know what they
are feeling. Individuals are all around, most of us disguising our true
colours. Some others don't have the ability to do so, but we are here and we
are human just like everyone else. Sure, we are a bit different, but who doesn’t
have a quirk or two. To all my fellow people who deal with mental illness and
to all those who don’t, we are all human beings under one roof. Let’s make sure
everyone can have some shelter.
No comments:
Post a Comment