A few years ago, I spent two weeks in a day treatment psychiatric facility. Admitting this may seem uncomfortable, especially in an open forum like the internet. In fact, my relatives are unaware of this chapter in my life, and I’ve been advised against sharing it. Friends have cautioned me that revealing this experience could hinder future job opportunities or even aspirations for public office. Yet, if anyone seeks to uncover my past, here it is: I sought help for my mental health.
I often ponder how this disclosure might be perceived. The fear of stigma looms large, particularly regarding my aspirations to adopt a child, though I’ve been reassured by social services that a letter from my psychiatrist will suffice. Nevertheless, I refuse to live in shame.
According to the National Institute of Mental Health, approximately 3.5% of women aged 18 to 44—an important demographic for childbearing—experience “severe psychological distress” annually. That accounts for a significant number of mothers. Simultaneously, around 5.5% of women contend with “major depression with severe impairment,” indicating a significant struggle in areas such as home management, work, and social life. I fall into that 5.5%, with my experiences reflecting ratings closer to 9 on a 10-point scale. Furthermore, over a quarter of all community hospital admissions in the U.S. are related to mental health disorders. Thus, my journey through psychiatric care is far from unique.
Interestingly, while 57% of people believe those with mental health challenges are treated with compassion, only 25% of individuals actually experiencing these issues share that sentiment. As someone grappling with severe treatment-resistant depression, suspected bipolar disorder, generalized anxiety disorder, and ADHD, I can attest to this disparity.
Generally, medication helps manage my symptoms, but during periods of imbalance, intrusive thoughts take over—I worry about my loved ones’ safety and imagine catastrophic scenarios. Clutter, a natural byproduct of raising three children under the age of 7, can provoke intense frustration. Fatigue often sets in, accompanied by panic attacks that disrupt my daily life. When my condition spiraled to a breaking point, my doctor encouraged me to enter a day treatment program. Unfortunately, this is a common experience among those battling mental illness; support is often scarce when it is most needed.
The societal stigma surrounding mental health makes it challenging to express, “I am struggling and need help.” Recommendations from the American Psychological Association suggest seeking community support because friends and family may not always provide the assistance we hope for. During my darkest days, I received minimal help; my mother visited for five days, a friend watched my children occasionally, but offers of meals or additional support were few and far between.
Upon entering the facility, I encountered a mix of kindness and neutrality. I completed extensive paperwork before participating in group therapy. Research indicates that 57% of individuals with depression show significant improvement through cognitive-behavioral therapy in group settings. Bonds develop through shared vulnerabilities and triumphs, punctuated by tears and support. Yet, group therapy requires patience and commitment. I often turned to a photo of my children on my phone for motivation.
Throughout my stay, I attended individual sessions with psychiatrists and psychologists who worked to recalibrate my medication. Thankfully, my symptoms improved rapidly, and I soon returned to a more stable state of mind, although I still had to remain in the facility for a full week.
During my time there, I engaged in therapy and learned coping mechanisms, but the primary focus was medication adjustment. Contrary to popular belief, the environment was not intimidating, and my fellow patients were simply seeking to regain stability in their lives, much like myself.
The stigma surrounding mental health struggles remained a significant concern for many of us. We faced a choice between suffering silently or taking the necessary, albeit shame-filled, step of seeking treatment. It can feel like a no-win situation.
Today, I am managing well. My primary goal remains to be a good parent, and I actively discuss my children in therapy. My psychiatrist and I work together to ensure my treatment aligns with this goal. I often share my interests in homeschooling and parenting within my therapy groups, striving to demonstrate my capability as a parent, given the stereotypes surrounding mental illness.
While I rely on a range of medications to maintain my health, it’s worth noting that the quantity is no greater than that of many heart patients. My treatment focuses on serotonin reuptake rather than blood clotting. I care for my children, pursue writing, and my husband trusts me with their care. Although I still experience occasional anxiety, it is manageable, thanks to the support from the facility and my psychiatrist. I refuse to be ashamed of my journey.
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In conclusion, my experience in a psychiatric facility equipped me with vital coping skills and a deeper understanding of mental health challenges. It underscored the importance of seeking help and building a supportive community. While stigma persists, it is essential to prioritize mental wellness and advocate for oneself without shame.