***Fur babies are children too!!
“Happy Mother’s Day (on Sunday)” 5.7.21
lose the stigma
“The Tail of A Dragon and His Girl” 4.16.21
This is a story about the importance of emotional support animals to their people. It is a fairy tale based on reality, a guide to adolescents discovering their new relationships with “Berman” and how to handle him with help from our furry family members. This book is in the process of being published and will be available soon! Stay tuned!
—SJB
“Recognition” 4.9.21
The mind is a powerful entity. Much of it is still a mystery. What causes us to dream, to remember, to recognize the people in our lives, and to comprehend the situations happening around us? I don’t have these answers, but I am no stranger to memory loss and lack of recognition.
When we are children, we are taught basic table manners. We learn how to use napkins, utensils, and to keep our elbows off the table. I never imagined that one day I would not recognize the relationship between the utensils and the food. The key to starving is forgetting how to eat.
I tell this story many times over because this is something I will never forget and letting it out helps with the pain of remembering. While I was in the psychiatric hospital in 2013, I didn’t realize that the medication the doctors were trying to force down my throat was for my benefit. I couldn’t recognize that the doctors weren’t “bad guys.” I had horrible dreams that felt so much like reality. They clouded my judgment and caused me to believe my delusions. It was nearly impossible to talk me down.
Worse than mania, depression, psychosis, memory loss, or delusions, was not recognizing my parents and loved ones. I understand now how much harder that was for them than it was for me. I have been reminiscing today and some terrible memories have come to light. I am sure that during our sheltering in place we have all had time to think about things we wanted to bury. Memories can be repressed, but they are always in the back of our minds, waiting to be remembered.
Sit down. Write down what you are remembering, good or bad. It may help you to release some of your emotions. While it is more fun to drown our sorrows by binge watching television, we have to do the real work of recognizing our deepest traumas if we are to put our bad memories behind us. Talk to someone you trust. Release your emotions. Recognize your feelings. Cry. Laugh. Heal.
—SJB
“Triggers” 3.19.21
Triggers are events or reminders of past trauma which can send a person over the edge into mania or depression.
Triggers can be big ordeals, or small details that open up a part of the brain and reintroduce the trauma a person has experienced. My triggers began with apple juice.
My dad is an Episcopal priest. When I was in the eighth grade, I was told that we were moving away from the town I grew up in. I was feeling uprooted. When you are the daughter of a priest, you are not supposed to tell anyone if, when, or where you are relocating until the whole church is informed. I wasn’t even allowed to tell my best friend. Unfortunately, it took her a while to forgive me for keeping such a secret from her, but it was my duty.
Once reality set in and the move was impending, I got very sick and stayed at home from school for a week. I laid in my parents’ bed and didn’t eat or drink much other than apple juice. It was the beginning of my worst depression. To this day, I cannot drink apple juice without being reminded of that depression and once reminded, I start to sink.
Another of my triggers is oatmeal with butter and brown sugar. It reminds me of the days when I was literally starving, in a hospital that couldn’t take care of my needs. Trying to fatten me up, the women serving breakfast always gave me an extra bowl of oatmeal. I remember a man in line behind me ask, “Hey! Why does she get two bowls?” To which the woman replied, “Look at her!”
Now, when I eat oatmeal with butter and brown sugar I cannot help but think of that time. It reminds me of sick days spent in bed as an adult skipping work. I stayed away, depression enveloping me. I burrowed into my blankets and felt the guilty aches of anxiety deep within my core.
Anxiety is the trigger that has the biggest effect on my life. I cannot work, because I cannot handle the stress. I have been unable to keep a steady job because of my disability. I cannot even handle a part-time job.
As my illness progressed, I began to recognize running as one of my most heartbreaking triggers. It was always my favorite activity and my greatest escape. I have ruined my knees due to years on my feet. I no longer run, but it is not solely due to my injury. When I run, the occurrence of an ocular gyro crisis is highly likely. An ocular gyro crisis is involuntary rapid eye movement. I lose control of my eyes. It is an extremely rare side effect I inherited from one of the many medications I was prescribed in the past. Running also invites the voices into my head; one voice is encouraging and the other is reckless. Although I realize these consequences, my desire to run is high and my loss of running is emotionally painful.
Even if you don’t have a mental illness, everyone has triggers. Sit down and write a list of the things in your life that make you “tick.” Once you have named them, they will be easier to circumvent.
–SJB
“Procrastination” 3.5.21
Waiting until the last minute gives some of us extra motivation to finish work when the deadline is impending. For others, dread fills us to the brim. Often, the work doesn’t ever happen at all.
Procrastinators are often characterized as “lazy.” For many years, I accepted that as my own character flaw. My views on the matter were altered when I entered therapy.
I didn’t work with a therapist until five years into my illness. I had a psychiatrist, medication, and lots of problems. I had no idea how much I needed to talk to someone.
I began seeing a psychologist in 2009. It changed me forever. I released my emotions, worked through several problems with her guidance, and would not be the same without her help.
I was in college studying art. I started skipping my drawing class. It was too difficult for me. I have always had trouble with perspective and realism, beginning in my Thursday afternoon art lessons in elementary school. Trying to depict reality has always been so frustrating for me. I was in the dark until the fifth grade, when I realized that there are other techniques and areas of art to explore. I didn’t have to make things look real in order to express myself!
In that college drawing class, though, it was vital in order to pass and the teacher was ruthless. He was especially stern with me because I wasn’t improving despite his suggestions. So I skipped one of his drawing classes.
Then I skipped another, and another. I skipped a week of his drawing classes. Then I stopped going entirely.
With a stomach full of dread and my anxiety level through the roof, it seemed that the more classes I missed, the harder it would be to catch up. Therefore; I never returned. Procrastination as I have never seen the like.
I suffered through every day of college, unstable because of my mental illness. I didn’t seek help from the Disability Resources Department because I didn’t know it existed.
It wasn’t until years later that I learned a fact of utmost importance from my therapist. My “laziness” and procrastination were tied to my mood disorder. Sometimes I was literally “not in the mood.” And it wasn’t my fault!
Try not to punish or misunderstand the procrastinators in our midst. Truly, sometimes there is an underlying reason for appearing “lazy.”
Next time you feel “lazy,” or continue to spiral into procrastination, look it in the face and ask yourself where it comes from. It could be a characteristic of a mood disorder, and entirely no fault of your own.
It is something to ponder, whenever you’re in the mood.
—SJB
Article Three: Origin
I have been working on my book for thirteen years. I am a bit superstitious, but only for fun. I was born on the 13th of January, and black cats with green eyes only bring me good luck. If I see a penny on heads, no matter where I am, I have to pick it up. I just can’t pass it by. Friday the thirteenth is always a good day for me. I also paid quite a bit of money in the Museum of Modern Art on a four-leaf clover encased in glass that I “found.”
When I was a very little girl, I loved to read, write, and draw. On career day at my elementary school, I dressed as an “Author and Illustrator.” I was only wrong about the attire of an author and illustrator. I can’t speak for all of us, but I wear pajamas to work.
When I was in first grade, I won a writing contest with a short story about a cat named Fred (I’m sure he was a black cat with green eyes). In second grade, I kept a wild journal! My teacher, Mrs. Sanders, seemed to have fun reading it because she always left funny comments in the margins and predicted that one day I would write a book. So, I did. Twenty-five years later.
It’s not every day you grow up to be an astronaut, but my dreams were just as important and a little more attainable. I am an author and an illustrator; one of those kids who grows up to live their dream. I feel so fortunate, but it has nothing to do with good luck. Some might even say it has to do with putting a spin on bad luck. This book would not be possible if my whole life consisted of good fortune.
I dreamed of being a writer of words people wanted to read. I think a higher being, God if you will, heard me. Let’s just say he gave me a lot of material to work with!
For the first few years of this project, I had a hard time deciding exactly what form my book would take. My first attempt was an unfinished forty-page, single-spaced, twelve-point font autobiography. It was boring. It was heavy. It was not entertaining, and there were no illustrations. It was cold, and dark. So I steered it in a different direction. No one needs all the details, though I plan to share many of them here.
My next attempt was a series of funny short stories, but when I had finished those, it seemed I was making light of the situation, and I didn’t want to give readers the impression that mental illness is not a serious issue. That project was then squashed.
Finally, after much pondering and many more years, I started writing and illustrating fairy tales with underlying messages about mental illness. I wrote so many that I had to decide which to publish first! I got a little carried away. Writers are supposed to write about what they know, right? I have seen and experienced my share of mental illness, so the truth came out.
It has been clear to me for a very long time that my purpose here is to take a stand against societal stigma and make waves in the field of mental health. I want to speak for those who have difficulty speaking for themselves, and help broken families heal.
In eighth grade, I had a writing assignment about my dreams for the future. One of my dreams was “to write something people wanted to read.”
I hope you want to read my book, hear what I have to say, and pass it on.
—SJB