Getting a Bed, Living My Life
When I think back on my experience with mental illness, I think of the many ways things could have been different. I was diagnosed at a young age, in a very different time, when public opinion on mental illness diverged greatly from where it is today. Because I lived with paranoid schizophrenia and major depression, I was taken from my family at a young age and moved through the mental health system over and over again, only finding stability once I was able to access treatment and an inpatient bed.
When I was five years old, I set my family's Minnesota home on fire while experiencing delusions. I was sent to a psychiatric hospital, where I grew up away from my family with little contact with those I loved. My father had had schizophrenia, but my mother was not in touch with him, and said she left me in the institution because she needed to focus on raising my siblings. At 13, I was still hearing voices, but the hospital released me back to my family.
“My childhood was spent in and out of psychiatric hospitals, feeling alone, but taken care of.”
My childhood was spent in and out of hospitals, feeling alone, but taken care of. My early adult life was a much harsher reality. The system treated me like a wild animal, and I was thrown into jail or boarding facilities with little actual care. I was behind bars, I was shackled – I would have taken padded walls and straitjackets over that any day. I was constantly waiting for a bed or seeking help in the ER, only to be sent back out to the streets. The centers I visited couldn't handle all of us cycling through the system again and again, and the root causes of our issues were never addressed. When I was able to secure space in a "board and care" facility, I witnessed too many incidences of abuse, including sexual abuse, to count.
I wish there had been resources for me and for my family. When I was young, there was no organization to help families dealing with a loved one's mental illness. I recently saw my sister for the first time in 20 years, and it was such a wonderful visit. I don't hold it against my siblings that they didn't understand what was happening to me. They were intentionally sheltered from what I was going through.
As for me, I'm currently functioning well and feeling good. I have housing that I share with a supportive partner who helps me stay on track. I make sure I take my medication and see my therapist and doctor regularly, because I know my life could be much different if I don't. I can tell the difference – and so can others – when I miss my medication, so I work hard to keep up with all of my prescriptions. While I still struggle, I know I'm successfully managing my mental illness because of the support I received and because I was able to access an inpatient bed. Because of this, I'm a vocal advocate for legislation that increases others' chances of getting a bed. State and Federal authorities need to cooperate to provide dedicated hospitals that offer inpatient care where people can get on the right medication, stabilize and learn what it's like to feel better.