The Mental Illness Fight Never Gets Easy

It was a fairly gloomy day last May when my dad and I stood in South Street Seaport with hundreds of other people. It had only been four months since he was released from the hospital, he still wasn’t so sure of himself. But my dad was there, ready to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge with lots of people who wanted to say mental health matters.

A year ago I wrote how my dad is a survivor of two suicide attempts. It’s why I decided to take part in the National Alliance on Mental Illness’ annual walk in New York City, and I encouraged my father to take part.

Dad had told me right away he’d walk with me, but he still wasn’t sure about doing it. He kept asking everyone if he should do it, including his therapy group that he saw three times per week. Everyone told him to do it.

So there he was with me at South Street Seaport getting ready to walk, and walk we did across that bridge. And as we walked back into South Street Seaport, ahead of many of the other walkers, I couldn’t have been more proud of my father. He’s only gotten stronger and better in the months since that day.

In fact, not long after I received the email about this year’s NAMI walk, I got one from my father forwarding me the details. I told him I had already signed up, and he responded that he had as well.

Of course, that’s not the end of the story; it never is.

There’s been lots of bumps and bruises (and tears shed) in the months between the walk and now. My father was released from his group therapy in August, and there was some trouble in the weeks and months that followed. There would be occasional outbursts where he would just yell at me (or my mother or sister), which was upsetting, to put it mildly.

The worst of these episodes for me was the day after Thanksgiving. My sister and I arrived home from running some Black Friday shopping errands, and we were speaking with my mom while Dad sat right there. Within minutes Dad just let loose on me and started yelling at me for things I don’t remember because they were so awful. The wounds cut deep and I realized I had to distance myself a bit from my father for my own good, which was a terrible feeling.

My mother and I, though, cracked a plan, and she went with my dad to his doctor to tell him that his behavior was unacceptable in a safe place. I’m happy to say that in the months since then my dad has been a lot better, a lot less mean and angry with us. I don’t get nervous to be around him, wondering what version of him I would see.

But I also realized that I don’t take care of myself very well. In the last few years I’ve had shit storm after shit storm hit my life. If it wasn’t my father, it was being laid off from work, among other things. I’ve been taking care of other people and not focusing on myself. The worst part of it, to me, is the weight I’ve gained because it doesn’t help how I feel about myself. Not to mention it’s a tough nut to crack when your medication makes you want to eat all the time (I laugh at people who tell me just to eat less and exercise more…like that in itself is the problem).

I made a promise to myself that this year I would focus on taking care of myself: The Year of Self Care. This isn’t an easy one to follow when you look around at your life and think “what the hell do I do?”

The big one for me was to find a psychiatrist. I haven’t had one since I moved from New Jersey, which is a whole problem in itself with my old doctor (I’ve considered reporting her to the correct regulatory boards for abandoning her patient). I have an appointment for later this month, which makes me feel like I’m taking a giant step.

There are lots of other things I want to be doing to take care of myself, like addressing some other health conditions, figuring out how to get my photography out there more and spending more time writing. I have ideas for things I want to do in my life, but I don’t spend enough time actually doing them. My depression pulls me down and makes me want to sleep all the time. I’m just tired, and I need to overcome that fatigue and take back my life.

As I always say, though, I’m lucky that I can think about these things and work on self care. Some people don’t even get the basic care they need to improve their mental health. Some also struggle to maintain their care, which I certainly understand because the system is stacked up against anyone who suffers from a mental illness. That’s why we need organizations like NAMI and why I support their work.

Participating in the NAMI Walk last year not only was a proud moment watching my dad, it was empowering watching all these other people who were walking to help the one in five Americans who suffer from mental illness every year. You can be part of that movement in working to bring better care to people who need it and also in the fight to break the mental health stigmas.

Take a few minutes to consider donating to my efforts to raise at least $1,000 for NAMI’s work in New York City. No amount is too small because every dollar matters.

Last year so many people helped me raise over $2,000, and I cannot thank those people enough for their help. You are making a difference in people’s lives every day.

Are you feeling hopeless and alone? You matter. You are not alone. You can call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273–8255 or the NAMI Helpline at 800–950–6264.