"The Badger Goes Mental" or "There Will Be Jello" Day 1 in Hospital

Hello everyone, some of you already know that last night I checked myself into hospital for depression associated with my Bipolar Disorder. The choice to seek help when sick is never an easy or flipant one. it comes with a bucketful of fear, shame, anixty and my hatred of Jello or any Jello based food stuffs.

  I am a very self aware person in regards to my illness and I knew it was the right time to seek some help. I am also blessed to have friends who support me and care for me without judgement and that too makes this much easier to deal with. I really need to thank Airdrie and Derek for all their support and to Airdrie for driving me to hospital and tonight for bringing me bacon cheeseburger therapy. Good friends are to be cherished and they are greatly appreciated.

 I will try and blog every day from here in Holiday Inn for Nuts in order to share and shine light on what a mental health hospital stay is like. So here we go with day one's breakdown;

  I spent the night on a stretcher in the Emerg because there was no room in the Inn for the loopy badger, and was blessed with robes of blue cotton assless gowns and socks with rubber nubs on them. I also recived my hospital jewelery two lovely bracelets. I told my story to no less than 6 different people so much so that I was beginning to feel like "RainMan". The gave me some nice sedatives as I have not been sleeping much of late and I passed out to a family argument over laxatives in Italian.

 This morning I was moved to the IPU ( Inpatient Psych Unit) and settled in my little bed with it's delightful plastic piss proof pillow, eat your hearts out Four Seasons. The food is a kind of gruel so far and no salt or pepper |I may need to sneak in some hot sauce. I had my first visit with my Dr. who ladies and some men would find quiet attractive and went over out plans for my stay at "Spa Du Kookoo".

 Burnaby General in my opinion has the best Mental Health Care around they make you part of the conversation about your care which is so very important and here is a brief breakdown;

• Meds will not change, but I will be taking sedatives to help me sleep and deal with anxiety.
• I will be getting some maintenance ECT (Electro Convulsive Therapy) you can read about my previous ECT experience here. 
• I am currently commited but still am allowed to leave the ward to wander, smoke and blog
• My roommates mum looks like a meth head Cher.
• It seems there was a douchebag special on beds as we have alot of young douchey ed hardy types.
• One spot smells like pee and it is near the food, ewww
• I will probably be here for 3 weeks or so but will get to stay at home some nights

 I am hoping to blog everyday and hope it to be insightful, funny and honest. Thank you everyone for all your suppport it makes this experience so much easier to handle. You can also visit me if you like I am at Burnaby General Hospital in the booby hatchery.

"Diagnosis Bingo! and How I was eventually Bipolar"

  My journey through my own personal crazy made a lot of stops as if my brain did not want to take the psychiatric express train but instead preferred buying a Eur-Rail pass to Fruit Cake Land instead.

  For many people the path to mental health diagnosis comes after they discover they are suffering and or are so ill that there is no denying they have something going on upstairs. It may be depression, or paranoia, simple traits for a professional to see and diagnose. In some cases and in mine it was not so easy.

 I always knew that I was different from a early age, a sense of just not quite being right but how was I to know it was a harbinger of things to come. When I was young and I know this will come to shock to whoever knows me, I was painfully shy. I avoided talking to strangers or meeting new people, and would have full on panic attacks if pushed into social situations. I also acted out and was unable to focus on things at one moment and obsessed on things as well. I was unpredictable and frankly and pain in the ass for my parents, family and teachers.  Not knowing what was going on in my own head my parents sent me to child shrink when I was 12. This shrink just watched me play games, draw, and listened to me talk and here was his diagnosis which was the first square in my diagnosis bingo.
 "Steven shows an above average intelligence but also shows impulse control issues, I think in my bearded opinion he is mildly autistic"


 Ah now my folks had a label and ran with it, reading every book on autism they could find. Along with lots more money spend for me to play with lego in creepy beard kid shrink's office.

 Soon I was a teen and along with my acne, fear of girls, hours of self touching to dirty magazines came my first depression. But no one knew it was a depression and my brains bingo card was played once again this time by a team of players. I was first called into my guidance counselor's office because I was not going to school much if at all. He was concerned what a Jr. HS kid was doing when not in grade 8 typing class.  So what was I doing you ask? Shoplifting like a madman is what, I was stealing everything including a bike I stole from a store and used said bike to steal and getaway from other merchants. But to my parents, school officials and others I was a shy, clean cut preppy kid, not a urban version of a Somali pirate. They never knew how bad I really was but my new shrink said I had depression and gave me depressants, now that is really fucked up.

 A few years later in when I was 15 I really went off the mental health rails when I had my first manic episode. That year I was 78 days illegally absent from HS, ran away from home 6 times once stealing my dads Mercedes, credit card and drove from NYC to Disneyland in California. this went on for 2 years until I was given a proper diagnosis. One doc hit it on the head and said it looked like I was bipolar but was vetoed by others who said, "teens do not get bipolar" and diagnosed me with the most socially destructive diagnosis ever, I was now a borderline personality disorder.  A diagnosis that to this day hangs like some horrible scarlet letter of "Stay Clear".

  I was a BPD til in june of my 17th year I locked myself in my room and took 40 valium. I almost died and to this day a lot of people do not know that story.  Enter the professional Diagnosis Bingo Hall the psych ward. There a good doctor diagnosed me bipolar and put me on lithium and soon I knew what it was like to be healthy or should I say healthier.

 In the years since I have been downgraded to "Depressed" was told I was a "Alcoholic" ( which if you really know me is kinda funny. I may drink heavy when I drink but I do not drink that often.) Upgraded to "Bipolar 2" again then back to "depression with social anxiety disorder". This went on for years and years til I went off the reservation again when I was married, tried to off myself again , bought two 80 grand cars in one day and was generally fucking nuts. Once again into the Professional Bingo Hall of brain shrinkery and was diagnosed "Bipolar 1 with C-PTSD and general anxiety disorder". This is the one that has stuck and with it treatment that have been for the most part very successful.

 Still when you come into contact with a new shrink, who does not know you he or she may have different ideas of what you are. They may attempt to play bingo with your mind. In all forms of healthcare we are entitled to a second opinion, if you need surgery you have the right to ask another physician if said surgery is what you need. But in crazy care not so much, we are expected to take our diagnosis like a good boy or girl and never question a psychiatrist, like they are some brain deity.

 Mis diagnosis is a common fact in Mental Healthcare, as it is a subjective field there are no biological tests to say what kind of nuts we have. So we must question our doctors, if you are not sure of your diagnosis ask for and demand a second opinion, it is your mind and your life at stake, and that is too valuable for a game of bingo...................

"Mad Pride!!! Bringing Mental Health Out of The Darkness"

photo courtesy of a crazy person and big pharma

 I watched my Father a Gay Rights pioneer fight homophobia in NYC in the years after the Stonewall riots. The Stonewall is still a bar I still frequent in NYC and find as a safe harbour in my life. These riots where the incubator of what we know as the Modern "Gay Pride" movement.  Years of fighting for equal rights and end to homophobia still have not ending the hate or reversed laws but there have been amazing changes in the views and acceptance of the gay community.

 I am mentally ill, I suffer from as alot of you know Bipolar disorder. I am vocal and self "Outed" years ago. I use my blog, facebook and twitter to openly discuss mental illness and it's world view.

 For years and still people who live with, or have a family member living with mental illness have suffered mostly in silence, out of fear of being shunned, loosing employment, mocked, mistrusted and generally thought of as less than. This stigma is not just from lay people but also from medical professionals. That is why the time for "Mad Pride" has arrived.

"Mad Pride" is a movement quite like Gay Pride, it started from a need for a stigmatized segment of our community to be given respect and equal rights. The movement started in late 1990s in the UK as a way to re educate the public and healthcare professionals about living with mental health. There are parades in many cities already even Toronto has a Mad Pride week. But we do not here in Vancouver and we need one.

 Vancouver has a very high per capita mental illness rate, we see it all around us almost everyday. So what do we do? How do we evoke a pivotal change in the public and professional views of crazy?

  My plan is simple, I will continue to speak out on Mad Pride and my mental illness. I intend to also use social media, like twitter, facebook, and blogging to create a Vancouver Mad Pride movement. My goal in the short  term is a parade, and festival. Just one day for now with a dream of it being a week long event.

The time has come.... We need to join the Crazy  the Sane, the lay person and professional to come together to break down the walls of hate, fear, stigma, and blindness and stand up for Mad Pride.. Because we are all a little mad!

"The Stigma of Crazy or No I Do Not Bark at Squirrels"

Nuts, Crazy, Insane, Shitzo, Bonkers, Not Quite Right, these are a few of the terms people use to describe people living with mental illness and by no means the only ones there are hundreds if not thousands. No other illness has so many adjectives, don't believe me just try and find other names for Diabetics. So why this? why my condition? Why is there such a stigma on Mental Illness?

 I have felt the sting of the stigma of mental illness, have felt the nervous disconnect the mistrust people have with someone who is living with Mental Illness. It comes in many flavors kinda like a Baskin Robins of Stigmata. We have all seen the severely schizophrenic homeless who wear tattered clothing and have conversations in with the voices that their brains produce in their heads. Some will laugh at them, a lot of people do, others will cross the street to avoid them. Most never try and talk to them like the humans they are.

 Part of the stigma of Mental Illness is that we are all bad people, who are delusional, manipulating not to be trusted. Why is this, I feel it comes from many places so I will list a few for you;

1. Lack of Knowledge: Most people just plain do not understand Mental Illness and have a problem connecting chemicals in the brain with behavior / mood. There is little info or attention given to crazy, we do not have ribbons, or runs few to no celebrity faces, so we are a unknown and what we do not know scares us.
2. Media: The media does a poor job of portraying people living with Mental Illness, we are more times than not seen as Murders, Abusive, Thieves, drunks, addicts and general well crazy folk. Show me one character in the media who is living with Mental Illness in a positive way.
3. Past Experiences; There are lots of us who had a Bipolar parent, spouse or sibling that may have harmed us physically or mentally. The so-called family black sheep who is looked at with pity and or scorn. These folks have a axe to grind with everyone who lives with a mental illness and generally puts everyone in the same straight jacket.

I am very open in my life about my living with Bipolar, I generally tell anyone whom I am getting to know that I am. This is a double edged sword or should I say maybe triple edged because I get three usual responses. the nope stay away, the ok I will let you in but you are still crazy and that scares me, and finally the who cares I like you anyway it is part of who you are.

 There is even  a "Caste System" of socially ok crazy folk and the really sad thing is this caste system is also followed by other mental health patients and professionals . The people who suffer from anxiety disorders or low level OCD and manageable depression are at the top. They are the safe, the harmless, we all feel for someone who has anxiety or depression. Then we move on to the Major Depression & Major anxiety-OCD they make the world a little more uncomfortable. Next on the stigma plate are the scary ones, Bipolar ooooh it is like a boogyman, to some real fucking crazy and they walk among us almost invisible ready to pounce. Then the bottom of the caste system  are the people living with schizophrenia or anti-social disorder they are seen as less than human by both the general public and alot of professionals.

 How do we change this Stigma? I blog about my crazy as personal way to beat it down. I speak about Mental Illness in public and my openness or self outing of my mental illness is also a way of breaking this stigma. But more needs to be done, we need a run or two maybe a walk. we need a ribbon and celebrities to come out of the Crazy Closet and profess their "Mad Pride". Because we are not less then, we are not deserving of discrimination, or to be treated as criminals because we are ill. Would you put a diabetic in dirty hospital ward because he or he stopped taking their insulin? Would you cross the street to avoid someone with MS? Or maybe you would not be friends with someone who had Hypothyroidism. I know these sound silly but it is no different. No one with Mental Illness did anything to contract or bring on their disease it just happened.

  Please join me in working to lessen the Stigma of Mental Illness because it is the right thing to do.