THE CHALLENGES OF MAKING NEW FRIENDS

Making new friends can be hard for anyone. Finding the right person you can talk to, share secrets with, and trust isn't easy. This process is made more difficult when the mind is plagued with mental illness. Often people with mental illness become victims to bad relationships or reach out to people who are scared away by their illness. Those who are ill find it hard to trust, and they struggle with their own inner fears and anguish.

There is a lot of stigma about mental illness, which makes others afraid of people who suffer with it. While I was sick and even during recovery, I found it hard to tell new friends I have a mental illness. I feared they would turn away or judge me. If I were to tell them I had an illness of the mind, would they think I'm dangerous or faking?

When I was doing well for a while after college, I became friends with a woman I worked with. Our friendship went well until I became sick again. She turned away from me. She said she could not handle my illness. Other friends thought I was dangerous, some said I chose to be sad, and others thought I was crazy.

Then there was my own fear that some of the symptoms of my illness might drive my new friends away. What if I become too attached and overstep my boundaries? What if I can't be a good of friend to them as they are to me? What if I become afraid of them abandoning me and I push them away? How do I be a friend? What if I am too needy? What if they don't want to be around someone so sad? What if they hurt me? What if they get to know the real me and they hate me?

These questions swam within my mind. The strong emotions tore at my insides. I struggled with my fears while anguish squeezed and twisted my insides. I avoided making friends because my fear was stronger than I was. When I did make friends, I pushed them away to avoid getting hurt.

Even now while I'm in recovery I struggle with making new friends. Recently I made friends with a woman at work. She understands my illness because she had experiences with it herself, but I still fear I might scare her away. What if I text her too much? What if I overstep my boundaries and she turns away? What if she finds something about me she doesn't like? What if our friendship doesn't work out and I get hurt?

Making new friends is hard, but I learned in therapy to take it step by step. First, take time to get to know the person. Second, be honest about your illness and offer to educate him or her about your illness. If he or she is unwilling to learn, then the person is not the right friend for you. Third, learn your friend's boundaries and work on not overstepping them. Fourth, believe in yourself as a person and that you are worthy of making a good friendship and being a good friend. Fifth, stand up to your fears and learn to rise above them.

It's important to know that in order to be a good friend, you must take care of your illness and yourself first. You cannot have a healthy friendship if you're so caught up in your illness that the only problems you see are your own. The more you work on taking control of your illness, the stronger friend you will become.

Even though I struggle with fears of ruining my new friendship, I know deep inside I am capable of being a good friend. I know by taking my friendship step by step, reassuring myself I am worthy of a good friendship and facing my fears, I can have a healthy friendship and will continue to bathe within the light.

MAKING BAD CHOICES

Everyone makes bad choices at one point or another and does things we often regrets, but when you have mental illness, your judgment is clouded and you make many wrong decisions. Some people choose drugs and alcohol to help deal with their illness. Others pick the wrong friends or boyfriends or do crazy things that get them in trouble with the law. People who are ill become victims of those who take advantage of their illness and steer them in the wrong direction.

I made many bad choices when I was sick. I didn't turn to drugs and alcohol to get relief from my illness; instead I found relief in self-injury. Like alcohol and drugs, self-injury becomes an addiction. It gives you temporary relief from your inner pain and you can't stop. It becomes an illness that takes control of your thoughts, strength, and willpower. Like any other addiction, it takes therapy and determination to stop.

I also chose the wrong friends, and when I realized they were a mistake, I couldn't walk away. When I started working at a grocery store, I became friends with a girl who lived in a bad part of the city and had a boyfriend who did drugs. This friend stole my paycheck and lied about it, but I still hung around her.

My friend often asked to borrow my car and I let her. One time her boyfriend asked to use my car while I was at work and I agreed. He said he'd bring it back before my shift was over. He never brought the car back until the next day. I spent the night with my friend. Later the friend was fired for stealing from her cash drawer.

I made friends with another girl who was nice one moment and mean the next. She helped me set my sister up with a boy and then fooled around with the boy in the back seat of my car. I kicked them out of my car, but continued to be her friend. Years later, I decided to move in with her and her husband. She blamed me for everything, labeled her food, and turned on me when I least expected it. I moved out and went back home a wreck.

A bunch of us from work used to go bowling after work. When I decided to mix alcohol with antidepressants, I became angry and hit a girl I considered a friend. Afterwards I apologized endlessly, but our friendship was never the same.

I went from one bad friendship to the next. I couldn't see past my own inner pain to decipher what was a good or a bad relationship. Making the right choice seemed impossible.

In therapy I learned it's possible to make the right decisions. When I was ill, I couldn't see the consequences of self-injuring, but in therapy I saw that by injuring I was only dragging myself down further into my hole. The relief only led to hiding my injuries, lying, guilt, and self-hate. I learned it was I who could make the choice to stop injuring and I did. It was a struggle, but I did it.

I learned that I'm in control of my choices, and it is I who chose if they are good or bad. My therapist said to weigh the positive and negatives of the decision I was going to make. If the negatives outweighed the positive, I needed to walk away from that decision. She also said to listen to my heart and get others' opinions. I learned I needed to do what was best for me and avoid things and people who would cause me harm.

Now that I have learned how to make good choices, I am stronger than ever and I stand tall within the light.

A MOTHER'S LOVE

While facing mental illness, it's important to have the love and support of your parents. Your parents can be your biggest supporters, they can help you find help, they can listen, and they can be your strength. Some parents are not up to the task of handling mental illness, but parents are not always biological. Sometimes good friends or grandparents can become like mothers and fathers.

For me, my mom was my strength and support throughout my mental illness. Her determination has gotten me through some very rough times. I thought interviewing my mom about her experience with my illness may be helpful to others. Below are the questions I asked my mother and her answers.

I asked my mom, “How did you deal with the heavy load of your daughter's mental illness?”

My mother answered, “I dealt with my daughter's illness through my strong faith in God. My faith has gotten me through many rough times and it kept me strong while my daughter struggled. Also learning about mental illness and how it affects those dealing with it helped me a lot.”

I questioned my mom, “What help did you find to cope with your child's mental illness?”

My mother replied, “Literature I read about her illness helped me understand and cope. I learned it's important to learn what your child is going through. If you don't, you can't help him or her.”

I asked, “How did you go forward without being pulled into the illness?”

My mom answered, “I tried to keep a positive attitude as much as possible even when my daughter was negative. I worked hard at finding her help when she was in need of it. I prayed a lot and turned to God for extra support.”

I questioned, “How did you encourage your child to get help?”

My mother replied, “I talked to my daughter about her feelings and what she was going through. I supported her in finding help. I gave Aimee reading material about mental illness. We decided together to look for a therapist or any type of help we could find.”

I asked, “How did you deal with feelings of guilt for your child having mental illness?”

My mom answered, “I blamed myself for my daughter's illness for the longest time. I thought since my mother was ill, my daughter inherited her sickness through my blood line. I thought I gave her something awful. I learned it wasn't my fault. It's one of those things that can happen to anyone. I prayed about it and worked hard to change my way of thinking.”

I questioned, “What signs do you notice that told you your child needed help?”

My mother replied, “My daughter would get mad about simple things, she tried to hide her symptoms and self-injuries, she had trouble sleeping, she would cry easily and often, she was continually sad, she made a lot of bad choices, and she had a loss of appetite.”

I asked, “How did you find your child help?”

My mom answered, “We went to a nearby hospital and talked to someone from the mental health department and the person gave us a list of places we could go. There are also other mental health organizations and associations that can provide help.”

My mother added, “I was determined to find my daughter help, no matter what it took. I was also determined to help my daughter through her illness one way or another and I was not willing to give up. I am very proud of how far she has come.

“There is more help out there for those who are sick than there is for the families of those who suffer with mental illness. Some families don't want help because of stigma and not understanding. We need to educate families more.”

It's my mother's willingness to learn, try to understand, and stand by me no matter what that has helped me reach for recovery. Without her love and dedication, I would not be dancing within the light.

ANGER'S WAR PATH

Anger is a dangerous emotion that can lead to disaster and can rip at your insides. It can boil within you like tar in the hot sun. Anger can not only hurt you, but also the people around you. It can grow out of control leaving your life in ruins. When you're suffering with mental illness, anger can become very intense and unbearable. It can push you down further into your dark pit, leaving you feeling more alone than ever.

When I was sick, my anger kept building within me. I was angry at myself for not controlling my emotions, I was angry at God for allowing me to suffer, I was mad at the world for going on while it seemed like I was standing still, and I was angry at everyone else for not understanding what I was suffering with.

During my childhood, my anger was directed at my siblings. I got into fights with my older sister, my younger sister, and even more with my brother. My brother's, brotherly teasing set me off into a fit. I'd hit him, and before we knew it, we were in a full blown fight. My anger turned into an emotional episode. I would scream, cry, throw things, and fall to my bed in a hopeless heap.

I took my anger out on the people I love the most. My mom tried to be supportive, but I'd say mean things and accuse her of not caring. She tried very hard to be patient with me, and I'm not sure how she did it. When I went off, I couldn't stop. My anger would spill out of me like lava burning everything in my path. I'd tell her she was a bad mother, she never listened to me, and I hated her. I couldn't just let go. I'd go on to tell her she was the reason I was so miserable. I never meant a word I said, but I couldn't stop the words from parting my lips.

The problem was I wasn't sure when I was just angry, or if I was in an emotional episode form my Borderline Personality Disorder. Sometimes it was both, or the anger led to an episode. The more I turned my anger inward, the more out of control I felt. I'd argue with my dad until we both hit our boiling points. I couldn't let go of the argument. I kept making him madder and madder until we both said things we shouldn't have.

In therapy, I learned to calmly talk out my feelings, to be slow to anger, to journal, to take deep breaths, to punch a pillow instead of throwing things, and other alternatives to release my anger without being destructive. I also had to figure out how to take control of my Borderline. I had to stop being mad at the world, the people I love, and God. I had to find peace with my illness.

Anger is an emotion that isn't meant to be held in until it takes control of you. It can be released in healthy ways. Learning how to handle your anger and to release it without causing harm to the people you love can help you climb out of your hole.

Now that I have learned how to control my anger, the light shines brighter and my relationships with my loved ones and God are stronger.

THE JOY OF LIVING

Once you have reached recovery, a light shines on you. You find a whole new perspective on life. You start finding joy in everything around you and even in the small stuff. The things in your life you couldn't enjoy while you were sick, you now embrace with delight. Suddenly, you know that if the darkness does come around, you are strong enough to rise above it.

Now that I am in recovery, I am looking at my life and myself differently. I am not cured of my mental illness, but I am stronger and in control it. I have found new meaning in my life. My life is no longer hopeless or worthless. I am happy with my husband, my home, and my job. I have a good life and a bright future. A future filled with dreams, goals, and love.

When I was sick, I saw no future for myself and no happiness. Life to me was an endless dark pit and I thought there was no way out, but there is a way out. It's a struggle, but it's worth fighting for. I now see that life is worth living and within it are happiness, beautiful memories, dreams to reach for and hope.

Now that I am in recovery I have found joy in just being alive. Each breath I take is a creation by a higher being that is beautiful. The sun shines brighter than I ever thought it could. The skies are bluer and my days no longer seem mundane. My soul is no longer empty. It's filled with purpose and happiness.

I am much more than I once thought I was. I'm not just a cashier; I'm a friend, a person who listens, a pair of arms to give a hug, a smile to cheer up a sad soul, and much more. I am now a friend who no longer needs extra support, but one who cares, who listens, who supports and gives advice. I am not just a dependent wife, but one who gives back, who takes care of my husband, and offers love and support. I am more than just a person who is struggling with an illness. I am a person who has risen above her illness and reaches out to inspire and support others.

The joy of living isn't just seeing the world around you differently, but also seeing yourself differently. It's taking the negativity of life and turning it into a rainbow of positivity. It's facing the bad days and rising above them. It's fighting those unwanted thoughts and taking control of them. It's falling down only to pull yourself back up. It's knowing I fought an awful illness and won. It's living life to the fullest and taking nothing for granted.

Reach for recovery and find your joy of living. Fighting for recovery has shown me life is worth living and my life is a precious gift from God. For me, each day within the light has a new meaning.

DO YOU LIKE YOURSELF?

An important part of recovery is learning to like yourself inside out. It's easy to find things wrong with yourself. We all have things about our bodies and personalities we would like to change, but while we are sick, we learn to hate ourselves. Our distorted view of the world is turned inward to ourselves. Sometimes others' opinions of us also help destroy our self-esteem. Often when we're sick we don't have the confidence to stand up to others' negativity towards us.

I learned to hate myself at a young age. My classmates and teachers put me down and I began to believe what they were saying was true. I saw myself as the stupid girl in class. Sadness began to fill me and my self-esteem dwindled. I wanted to be normal, but I felt like a worthless outcast. My mother tried to fill me up with confidence, but I couldn't see what she saw in me.

I was always a big-boned girl, who hated dresses and other girly things. My brother teased me like brothers do. He had a nickname for me with the word hog in it and he made pig noises at me. He had nicknames for my sisters too, but I took my nickname personally. It only confirmed my inner belief that I was fat and ugly. In high school teachers tried to help me to be more girly. I changed the way I dressed and it wasn't good enough. Their helpful hints only humiliated me and reinforced my inner dislike.

The more depressed I got, the more I hated everything about myself. I hated my hair, the way I talked, how I looked in my clothes, and how I walked. I picked at myself worse than my own classmates. My self-hate gave me little willpower to fight for myself or even to take care of myself properly.

Even as an adult, I couldn't find anything good about myself. Although I found enough confidence in myself to graduate from high school with honors and later graduate from college, I still thought I was a failure. I looked in the mirror and this over sized, hideous person looked back at me.

In therapy I had to learn to like myself. I had to make a list of ten things I liked about me. My therapist said I had to believe in the things I wrote down; I just couldn't ask others and write what they liked about me. It took me hours to find one thing to write down. I only had a few on my list when I returned to therapy, but my therapist told me to write those down on note cards and read them each day and add to them. I also had to work on changing my way of thinking.

As I started to think positively the brighter the light shined in my life. Slowly I began to see myself differently. In time I filled my list and added a few extra. When I met my husband, and he began treating me like a woman and telling me I was beautiful, this helped bolster my self-esteem. He is the first man who ever complimented me and made me feel special.

Learning to like myself helped me reach out of the darkness into the light. I now know I'm a beautiful and intelligent woman. I now stand in the light glowing with new confidence and self-esteem.

My mother was given an assignment in Sunday School on January 24 to write a poem or song about an experience she had that strengthened her faith in God. I was touched she choose to write a poem about her experience with my illness. Below is the poem my mother shared with her Sunday School class; she gave me permission to share with you. God strengthens faith not only in those who struggle with mental illness, but also in those who face it with you.

MY DEAREST DAUGHTER

BY Julie Eddy

Nights of tears

All I could do

Is hold your hand

God was beside you

He had other plans

After years of fighting

This awful disease

A battle almost won

Finally Victory

I see a smile

In place of a tear

Through your writings

He made you whole

Giving to others by way

Of word

I now see the glory

In God's plan