My mental health.

 

In 1990, at the age of 17, I had my first experience with the Department of Mental Health. My stepfather, at the time, went to court and somehow had me committed to a 30-day stay in a mental health unit.

My stepfather was determined to remove me from our home and had me committed a second time, this time to a treatment facility. I admit that I was drinking a little and had started smoking marijuana; I believe I was still 17. A judge committed me to a 30-day inpatient program that I was required to complete. The truth is, I was there because I was unwanted. However, I did take advantage of the educational opportunities offered and learned a great deal.

It was also in 1990 that I received my first mental health diagnosis: major depressive disorder. Throughout my life, I would be diagnosed with many different disorders.

Every time I found myself in a psychiatric unit or a treatment facility, it was either through commitment or by my own choice because I felt safe there. I was genuinely learning a lot about these facilities.

I tried as hard as I could to gather the courage to tell a psychiatrist where my true pain was hidden. However, due to past negative reactions, I was too afraid to disclose the exact nature of what I knew about myself.

Even though I was learning a significant amount, I didn't feel that I deserved to apply myself to the available treatments. I simply never believed that I deserved a chance at life.

As I got older, I began drinking alcohol heavily. There were multiple occasions when the police department would place me on a 96-hour hold in a psychiatric unit.

I have probably been in a psychiatric unit approximately twelve times for 96-hour holds and twice for 30-day stays. Additionally, I've been to agreement facilities twice for 30 days each time.

When intoxicated, I would intentionally do things knowing the police would take me to a psychiatric unit. Each time, I hoped I would finally find the courage to disclose my true self to professionals, but I never felt comfortable enough to do so.

Throughout all the years of being committed or voluntarily entering psychiatric or treatment facilities, I received numerous diagnoses, including:

* Treatment-resistant major depressive disorder, recurrent

* PTSD (Post-traumatic stress disorder)

* CPTSD (Complex post-traumatic stress disorder)

* Insomnia

* Paranoia

* Social anxiety disorder

* Substance use disorder

* Unspecified severe trauma due to childhood sexual and physical abuse

* ADHD (Attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder)

Just as I hid my homelessness, I developed various ways to conceal my clinical diagnoses from those around me. I never truly began mental health treatment for myself because of my trauma.

In front of others, I wore a mask that took years to develop and master. I appeared to everyone as a happy, lovable, and sober individual, while the truth was I was completely miserable and in agony. Behind that mask was pure hell.