Mental Disorders I Have Known

music by Florence & the Machine

Because it is the last Sunday of Mental Health Awareness month I’ve written a short piece on mental illness. You might consider this a content warning if you aren’t up for the deep dive, haven’t yet had your breakfast, or if you are my mother.

A brief trip through the DSM-V until I spill off its pages

OCD: Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. The first illness but not the first diagnosis. Scene: I’m a child and I have to turn the lights on in every room. If there is a light off, I have to turn it on. If I leave a room, I have to turn the light off and then on. My dad, who pays the light bill, wants to know who the hell keeps turning all the lights on. I pray to Jesus to help me stop turning on the lights. Jesus answers my prayer and the next day instead of turning the lights on in every room I have to turn them off in every room. My dad starts wanting to know who the hell is turning the lights off all the time.

Generalized Anxiety, Suicidal Ideation and Substance Use Disorder: These happen in drug treatment when I’m twenty years old. Scene: I am in a chair curled into the fetal position but still somehow sitting up. My knees are up to my chin. There is a rip in my jeans and I can feel the tiny hairs on my knee with the tip of my nose. Someone is asking me to share about my experience, strength and hope. I can’t speak yet so I “pass” by shaking my head. I start to cry silently. A tear falls onto my bare knee and I lick it off.

Post-partum Depression: My child was already a year old when I got diagnosed. Scene: My baby only sleeps when I am rocking him in a sling or when he is in the backseat of the CRV with the engine rumbling. I live on an island that is five miles wide and ten miles long. I take to driving around the island for hours at a time, north to south, west to east and back again. I only stop when I hit water and then I turn around. When I tell my doctor about sleepless nights and colic and insomnia she tells me that all I need is three hours of sleep a night to stay sane. I lie to her and tell her that I am getting three hours at least, of course. I decide that going insane will be fun and I dye my hair red to coordinate.

Depressive Disorder: When everything looks great on the outside but inside you feel like garbage. Scene: It is my 36th birthday. I tell my friend I am too depressed to celebrate but she convinces me to go out for lunch, her treat. She has a surprise for me. Over chips and dips and non-alcoholic margaritas she asks me if I have ever considered going into business for myself. I have always been an old school DIY sort of person, I tell her. Maybe that’s a good idea. She gets very excited, grabs her purse, pulls out a pamphlet and slaps it on the table. JOIN MARY KAY COSMETICS. We’ve got such a great deal this month on starter kits! Before the end of the lunch, I’ve written her a check. My depression gets worse, but my skin looks incredible.

Secondary Trauma: After serving as chaplain in a trauma hospital. Scene: I have one overnight a week at the trauma hospital. I sleep in a tiny windowless room with a pager next to my head. I pray for peace, sleep, and that the pager doesn’t go off. At 2am it buzzes. It’s from the psychiatric unit on the fifth floor. I accidentally take the wrong elevator and end up in the side of the building under construction. It is dark and there are shapes moving in the shadows. I’m pretty sure I’m having a nightmare. The woman I visit tells me stories from the Book of Revelation and then describes her own apocalyptic visions. I want to ask her if she’s seen the spooky deserted construction site on the other end of the hallway. I have a feeling she has.

Complex Post-traumatic Stress Disorder: The diagnosis to end all diagnoses and it doesn’t even appear in the DSM-V. Scene: When I finally agree to take medication I spend three months adjusting to the fatigue-inducing side effects and sleep sixteen hours a day. At first, it feels like I am poisoning myself. During my wakeful hours I obsessively scroll Reddit for any sign that this medication has worked for someone. During sleep, I have dreams so vivid I can feel my brain resetting itself. And then it happens. I wake up in the morning and I feel grateful. Grateful for my comfy couch and my blanket and all the rest I’m getting. Grateful for sleep. Grateful for healing. There are still moments of anxiety and overwhelm and frustration, but there is breath and life and hope. There are friends who have the same phone number after all this time and they answer the phone when I call.