Tag Archives: Milestones

Milestones in My Mental Health Recovery

This week #theprompt celebrates its 100th edition. I was guessing at the prompt for this week, as I often do, and this time, I was right: milestone. There are many milestones in one’s life. Birthdays, particularly important ones like eighteen or thirty. Graduations, be it from preschool, high school or college. Getting married, the birth of a child or grandchild, and the list goes on. When I thought of the word “milestone”, however, I thought of the milestones in my recovery from mental health problems. I am going to share them here. I include steps I’ve taken in my journey with autism here too.

1. Realizing I have a problem. In a way, I was always aware of my being different, but I didn’t realize there might be somethng really, clinically “wrong” with me till I was fifteen. Then I realized I may be autstic. Or something else. I quickly developed quite the obession with about half of the DSM-IV. Then, when I was seventeen, my parents talked me out of thinking I was autistic or otherwise anything other than blind and extremely intelligent and oh maybe a hypochondraic. Never mind that hypochondriasis is a real mental illness.

2. Admitting I need help. I first admitted this the day after I decided I might be autistic, so when I was still fifteen. Then again, I was too shy to tell my parents or my teacher or basically anyone that I really needed more than a teacher with a social skills checklist telling me all that I was lacking in terms of social skills. I remained too shy to directly ask for help for years. They were other people asking for help for me. First, it was the teachr with the social skills checklist calling the blindness rehabilitation center for me. Then it was my staff at independence training calling mental health services. Then it was the police calling the crisis service after I’d made a suicidal threat in public. I still have a problem asking for help directly.

3. Starting counseling. My first experience with counseling was at the blindness rehabilitation center I went to after high school. That wasn’t all that successful. Then, at the mental health agency where I was diagnosed with autism in 2007, I started sessions with a community psychiatric nurse. This was quite helpful. It was probably my most successful counseling experience so far.

4. Starting medication. I first started medication in the summer of 2007. That wasn’t a success. I hadn’t expected the psychiatrist I saw to suggest I go on an antipsychotic, because the nurse I mentioned above was suggesting a benzodiazepine on an as-needed basis. I did end up taking said antipsychotic, but stopped taking it again several months later. The second time I went on medication, another antipsychotic this time, I was extensively educated and got plenty of time to think it through and make a decision. I consciously decided I wanted this medication and it’s been a great help (with an antidepressant and several PRN meds added later on).

5. Checking myself into a mental hospital. Of course, it wasn’t literally that I checked myself in. I didn’t take the initiative to call the crisis service or my treatment provider, which I didn’t even have at the time. After all, I’d moved a few months prior and the new mental health agency was doing the diagnostic testing all over again. Nonetheless, I consider it a major milestone that I agreed to be admitted into the psychiatric hospital.

6. Moving to a resocialization unit. I spent sixteen months on a locked unit, largely because my meltdowns and emotional outbursts were too severe for any less restrictive unit to want me. Finally, however, the resocialization unit did want me after I half lied myself into being accepted. I think this was a major step, as I got much better care on the resocalization unit than on the locked unit. After spending over four years there, I moved to my current unit, which is also rehabilitaiton-oriented but doesn’t have as strict guidelines on how long you can be here. Not that they were followed by the other unit either. I really went here to be closer to my husband, whicch I currently am not anymore since the move, but oh well.

7. Discharge. This milestone is to come this summer. I’m going to move out of the psychiatric instituttion and live with my husband. I’ll continue to get some form of psychiatric treatment, but of course this is a step towards recovery of a “normal” life.

mumturnedmom
You Baby Me Mummy
Advertisements

Age Is But a Number?

Age is but a number, we so often hear. There are many, usually older people who say they never grew beyond age twenty-nine (or whatever age they like the most). Some people even say they remain children at heart.

I can relate to this, and yet I can’t. I can relate in the sense that I strongly embrace my inner children and teens and the fewer and fewer selves who are older than me. Right now, only my crafty self identifies as older than my chronological age.

Yet I am also very much aware that certain developmental expectations are tied to certain ages. I was made aware before I was nine-years-old that, by age eighteen, I’d be leaving the house. My father jokes that the family cat should earn his high school diploma if he ever turns nineteen. The cat is only thirteen, but you get the idea. Even cats need to conform to developmental milestones, so people certainly.

Of course, in the privacy of my own room or even with my husband present, I can be childish all I want. I for example bought a Barbie doll when one of my inner children was particularly active. Nothing’s wrong with that. On the other hand, the only reason I can go on forums that are commonly visited by teens, is that I’m female. Had I been male, I would’ve been seen as a pedophile. (For clarity’s sake: I don’t go on forums that have a clear age limit or ever lie about my age, and I have absolutely no intention of exploiting anyone.)

My age is not only significant in highlighting the inappropriateness of my embracing childlike roles, but also in making clear that I’m missing out on adult milestones. I never spent much time in college, let alone graduating it, though I’m hardly technically a yooung adult anymore. I never held a job, even a summer job. I am not pregnant, let alone a mother. I hardly ever lived independently, which even on sites for people with autism is seen as a rite of passage into adulthood.

I have written about many of these issues before. I grieve the loss of my child identity (and an inner child is no excuse). I also grieve having missed out on adult milestones and likely missing out on even more as time goes by. Age is but a number, but you can’t just act whatever age you feel, at least not in public. That’s with good reason, of course, but it is still somewhat hard to deal with sometimes.

mumturnedmom