The 3rd grade to the 7th grade was one of the most dreadful times of my life. It all started when my 3rd grade teacher took me to a room where my parents were sitting in. She started talking to them about how I was always looking distracted or confused during test’s and assignments. She suggested that we go see a doctor about me having ADD or ADHD but at the time I had no idea what ADD was or if it would affect my life in the slightest. When we arrived at the doctors he started asking me many question about my day to day life.
Hey Priya as you know i was gone for week and missed a hefty amount of work which in turn made my grades drop significantly however what you don 't know (probably unless my guardians told you) that week i was gone i was actually placed into a psychiatric ward (heritage oaks) for that week due to my self harm i was deemed a danger to myself and i had to go to heritage oaks there i was put on anti-depressant because apparently i am depressed and i have been feeling this way for a while,ironically however since the anti depressants I 've been having a lot more suicidal thoughts and it makes it hard to work when your questioning whether i should live anymore and why should i do anything were all gonna end up dead, now i don 't really like to use
A - The Stressor Event My daughter Jade is twenty three years old and has been in a common-law relationship for over two years. The man she is involved with is DJ and he has a three year old girl that lives in Ontario, that my daughter loves very much, from a previous relationship. In the recent past DJ had found a good job in Calgary Alberta and had decided to move for this opportunity even though it would be difficult for him to see his daughter. My daughter was committed to their relationship so she had moved to Calgary Alberta to be with him. In Calgary she had found a job at Walmart and quickly advanced to customer service representative.
I followed CP’s case over the course of her week in hospital and I feel it is one that will shape my approach to patients and families dealing with chronic illness. Up until this point in my clinical attachment, the diabetic patients that I had met had all been diagnosed for a longer period of time and were familiar with their management routine. CP and her family were all understandably overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events. Her mother stated that “on Monday my little girl had never even been in a hospital before; the next day she was giving herself insulin injections”. In the first few days of CP’s stay in hospital, her mum would become quite teary when I was talking to her.
I fully believe our struggles define who we are and what we will become. My anxiety disorder has been a factor in my life ever since I was a child but it was always unknown, just something I believed to be normal. I knew I was anxious but I never knew why. As a child, I was always the kid that just “didn’t come out of her shell yet” and then during middle school, I realized something was wrong when I couldn’t get to school in the morning and panic attacks came daily.
I wake up every morning, feeling like a force of pressure is going to crush me. I feel overwhelmed everyday by every little thing,I sense everyone judging me. I can feel their eyes piercing my heart, but I stand tall, and brave because I choose for Anxiety not to control my life. Living with Anxiety is like being scared and tired at the same time. It's the fear of failure,failing at everything you do but no urge to be productive.
When I was thirteen years old, I found out that my dad had PTSD. Me being a little girl I did not understand what PTSD was. My dad has been in the Army for twenty-two years and has seen a lot of traumatic things which has caused him to have PTSD. PTSD is a Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) which is a type of anxiety disorder. It can occur after you have gone through an extreme emotional trauma that involved the threat of injury or death.
INTRODUCTION I was 43, when I finally decided to try with all my heart to face the demons inside of me. I had been diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and my physical health was suffering from incredible fear, anxiety, and migraines. The migraines were so severe that I was visiting the doctor once a week and had been sent to the hospital several times for relief. My entire body ached, flashbacks wouldn’t cease and I was falling apart.
DUE TO MY SECOND HAND EXPERIENCE WITH PARANOID SCHIZOPHRENIA I NOT ONLY BECAME INTERESTED IN MENTAL HEALTH, BUT ALSO GREW AS A PERSON. I fell asleep next to my best friend as usual. However, this time it wasn't so peaceful. My brother kept tossing and turning. He kept changing positions from lying down to sitting up, again and again.
My heart would palpitate while my skin flushed. I could feel myself getting hotter and more nervous as thoughts raced through my head. They weren’t connected, but they felt tied together, stuck. I felt as if my life was on a video reel but the sounds were distorted, and the film was held together by a shaky hand. My teacher looked at me, saying something but all I heard was unintelligible speech, the other students were staring at me while I prayed silently for a sinkhole to open up and remove me from the situation entirely.
At one point in my life my anxiety was a monster that controlled me, and a battle that I honestly believed that I had already lost. It began with the “crawlies on my skin,” feeling I would get as child. These random fits would occur anytime I was brought into an uncomfortable situation. My skin would tingle as though my body was being invaded by thousands of microscopic bugs. My body would tense, and while curled up on the ground, and I’d cry until I started to hyperventilate.
What defines us? Is it the thickness of our hair, the size of our nose, or the length of our legs? Is it how smart we are, how athletic, or how beautiful? Our popularity, how charismatic we are, or the number of likes we get on Instagram, does that define us? Is it the size of our heart, the supply of generosity we possess, or the amount of compassion we show for others that makes us distinct?
Overworked. That’s the closest word that I could use to describe this week. I feel like this journal is going to be about me just bickering, yet there is some stuff you might want to read about. First of all, I have been sleeping three hours this week because of upcoming midterms, quizzes, and assignments due. I am sleep deprived and mentally drained and as my second year in college I have never had my life drained out of my body like a passing shadow.
If there was a way for me to share every detail of my mental health journey, people wouldn’t believe me. They would think I’m exaggerating. I’ve been to countless numbers of doctors in all different states and I’ve been admitted to hospital after hospital which insurance wouldn’t always cover. When I was eight, doctors diagnosed me with a severe case of Tourette Syndrome and OCD. There was no way they could prepare me for what was ahead, there wasn’t even much they could do for me besides prescribe pills.
“Here is the tragedy: when you are the victim of depression, not only do you feel utterly helpless and abandoned by the world, you also know that very few people can understand, or even begin to believe, that life can be this painful. There is nothing I can think of that is quite as isolating as this” (Andreae). I began to struggle with depression when I was in my second year of middle school. People always assume a major life event is what caused it, but nothing had changed: my dad moved out of state when I was in the fourth grade, I was friends with the same people I had been friends with the previous year, and I had never been very close with my step-father. But none of this was new to me, so what had caused this change in my mentality?
