Intro to Memoirs

Mental Illness. The words stick to my tongue like rancid honey. The thought of a mentally ill person makes my blood run cold as little beads of sweat form all over my body. I do not want to be associated with some sick freak that has lost his grip on reality. This is how I used to feel. To me, mental illness meant someone in the corner with an aluminum foil hat and wicked body odor talking to an imaginary friend. What I didn't realize is that mental illness affects 1 in 4 people around the world. This means that in all likeliness you know at least one person, if not more, with mental illness. It is a disease no one talks about because of the stigma attached to it. So when my PTSD gave me nightmares every night, I didn't tell anyone. When I was diagnosed with anxiety disorder, I went to a trusted family physician under the guise of some other medical disorder. Finally, when I couldn't take it anymore and sought psychiatric treatment for my BiPolar disorder, I was humiliated and didn't even tell my family. I was so wrapped up in what everyone would think about me once I was diagnosed that I spent more time trying to hide my afflictions than I did trying to treat them. This ultimately led me down a dark path of self loathing and destruction. It wasn't until I lost everything that I decided to share my story. I want to reach others with similar issues, in the hopes that they can get the help they need before it's too late. My mental health issues started in high school, but I was too ashamed to get help until my twenties. With earlier treatment, I may have made fewer mistakes in my life or caused myself less pain.