A few years back, I spent two weeks in a day treatment psychiatric facility. Admitting this publicly, especially online, feels daunting. My in-laws have no idea, and I’m not supposed to share this with them. Friends have questioned my choice to be so transparent, warning that it might hinder future job prospects or political aspirations. So, here’s the scoop: I’ve been in a mental health institution.
I often ponder how others perceive this revelation. The fear of judgment lingers, especially regarding my aspirations to adopt, although social services assure me that with a letter from my psychiatrist confirming my stability, it won’t be an obstacle. Yet, I refuse to let shame dictate my narrative.
The National Institute of Mental Health reports that 3.5% of women aged 18 to 44 experience “severe psychological distress” each year. That’s a significant number of mothers. Additionally, 5.5% of women face “major depression with severe impairment,” scoring above 7 on a 10-point scale that assesses their ability to manage home, work, relationships, and social life. I fell into that 5.5%, often feeling like I was hitting 9s. Moreover, over a quarter of community hospital admissions in the U.S. involve mental health disorders, including depression and bipolar disorder. So, I am far from alone in seeking psychiatric care.
Interestingly, while 57% of people believe those with mental health issues are treated kindly, only 25% of individuals experiencing mental illness feel the same way. As someone grappling with treatment-resistant depression, probable bipolar disorder, generalized anxiety, and ADHD, I can attest to this disparity.
Most days, medication helps keep the darkness at bay. However, when my dosage is off, my mind spirals into fear—imagining my husband dying on his commute or my children meeting tragic fates. Clutter from my three kids under seven years old heightens my anxiety, and I find myself sleeping excessively. Panic attacks can strike with a debilitating ferocity. When everything unraveled and my doctor recommended a day treatment program, I found myself astonished by the lack of support; this is a common experience for many of us battling mental health issues.
Society lacks the language to express, “I’m struggling, please help.” The American Psychological Association suggests seeking support groups and community services—often, relying on family and friends may not yield the help we need. In the lead-up to my breakdown, my mother visited for five days, and a couple of friends helped with the kids. But offers for meals or more substantial support were scarce.
Upon entering the facility, I encountered kind, albeit somewhat bland, staff. I filled out an avalanche of forms before diving into group therapy. Research indicates that 57% of depressed individuals participating in cognitive-behavioral therapy in group settings show significant improvement, with 40% achieving recovery. The bonding that occurs through shared vulnerabilities fosters a sense of community, complete with hugs and plenty of tissues. However, this process can be lengthy and occasionally tedious. To stay motivated, I kept a photo of my kids on my phone to remind me of what I was fighting for.
Throughout my stay, I had regular appointments with both a psychiatrist and a psychologist. The psychiatrist quickly identified that my issues escalated when I ceased taking a particular atypical antipsychotic that caused severe side effects. After switching my medication, I felt a gradual uplift in my mood. However, I still had to endure another week in the facility.
During my time there, I learned coping strategies and had my medication adjusted. Contrary to stereotypes, the environment didn’t resemble the typical depictions of mental hospitals. My fellow patients were a diverse group, each striving to return to their lives and loved ones.
The stigma surrounding mental illness loomed large, forcing us to choose between suffering in silence or pursuing treatment, which often carries its own shame. It felt like a catch-22.
Today, I’m in a better place. My time in group therapy often revolves around my children, as my psychiatrist and I focus on my primary goal: being a good parent. I share stories about homeschooling and parenting projects to counteract the stereotypes that suggest individuals with mental health issues are unfit caregivers.
I manage my mental health with a regimen of medication—fewer pills than most heart patients, but mine target serotonin levels instead of blood clotting. I care for my kids, write, and my husband trusts me alone with them. If I occasionally experience anxiety about driving or other fears, I recognize it as a normal part of life. The hospital helped me understand that, and my psychiatrist continues to support me in that journey. For that, I refuse to feel ashamed.
In conclusion, understanding mental health stigma and seeking help is vital. It’s essential to speak out and share experiences to foster empathy and support. If you’re interested in learning more about fertility options, visit this link, or check out this resource for in-depth knowledge about birth outcomes. For further guidance on pregnancy week by week, you can refer to this excellent resource.
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