Mental Health

Ever since I was sixteen, I've been the black sheep of the family. Seems like I've been the first to do many bad things. I was the first to be found out having sex outside of marriage. I was the first to publicly not be a Christian anymore. And I was the first to have a mental breakdown.

Homeschoolers Anonymous did a series about mental health awhile back. Honestly, I have not read many of the articles posted. I actually don't read many of the articles about mental health in homeschooling circles. Like my painful story that I shared last week about some of the sexual abuse as a child, mental health issues has not been a topic that I cannot fully face.

Like many fundamentalist families, mental health was never discussed in our family. Mental health was a word almost as bad as sex. Psychiatrist and the devil belonged in the same group. Mental health medications were something to be avoided at all cost. Mental health problems were often addressed as "demon possession." Going to a psychiatrist opened you up to demons and you were most definitely going to get taken over by demons if you even dared to think about taking medications. Despite the strong aversion to talking about mental health, my Mother had severe mental health problems. I will save those stories for another post, but for now I will just say that they were debilitating for her at times and often led to much of the abuse growing up.

Another thing that we had in common with many fundamentalist families is that the children were discouraged from forming any personality. Growing up my Mother always said that I was a tomboy or at least not a girly-girl. That was why my sister could have pink and baby blue dresses but I always had to have the brown, green, or dark blue. My Mother always said that I did not like pink. My Mother always said that I loved dark brown. I don't know if what she said is true. Growing up, I generally took what she said as being true. Although there were many time that I was very jealous of my sisters because they could wear the pretty colors because they were girly-girls. I don't know if I was a girly-girl on the inside growin up because I did not have any opinions of my own. I did not know what I liked or did not like. I had no personality. That was how we were raised. Despite not knowing what kind of style I liked as a child, I love pink now. My shoes are pink. My coffee mugs are pink. My phone case is pink. My towels are pink. My bed is pink. Almost half of all my shirts are pink. My purse is pink. Everything that isn't pink is some pastel girly color. I wear more make-up and jewelry than anyone in my family. I won't leave the house without make-up on. Given how I am now, I think that if I was allowed to express myself as a child, I would have been a very girly-girl.

By the time I reached adulthood, I had no opinions. I did not know who I was. I did not know how to tell if I was doing ok or not doing ok. Emotional and mental well-being was never taught. Church never taught it. It was never a book that Mother gave for us to read as part of our homeschooling curriculum. And it was definitely never mentioned around the dinner table at night. We were not supposed to have emotions. We could not cry. We could not laugh too much either. We could not feel anger. We could not even question why. With all of the suppression I knew nothing about listening to my own body and emotions.

It may seem harmless to never teach a child about mental health and taking care of your mental health. Surely, everyone knows when they have reached their limits. The problem is, I did not know. I did not know when I was doling ok and when I was not. I was always taught to just do as I was told and to not have any emotions about it.

That is how I found myself several years later in a new state, at a new job and in a new apartment without any friends or family around. I hated my job and was receiving the proper training or mentoring. I hated my living situation as I was renting a room from strangers that had lied about having live-in boyfriends. I was so uncomfortable in that house that I never went out of my room when they were there. I hated the state. It was cold and snowy and my car was having problems, including being without heat. Plus just everything was so different in that state. I was homesick for the mountains and the mountain people. I was hating my job. Plus, I was head-over-heals for my boyfriend whom I discovered was not so sure about me and did not want to move to that state with me. We broke up at least two times per week. To try to save my relationship, I would drive every weekend for at least six hours one way to spend the weekend with him. I would make the long cold drive back home either late Sunday night or early Monday morning. Sometimes I would start work on Monday without having slept the day before.

I was pushed beyond my limits. I was unhappy. I was hurting because of my relationship with my boyfriend. I was stressed at work and I was stressed at home. Then one day I hit a breaking point. I remember that day. It was a Thursday. My boyfriend had taken the week off and he was there with me, looking for jobs and apartments. Since my roommate said that my boyfriend could not stay there, we were staying in a hotel room. That Thursday, my boyfriend told me that he would not be moving up there with me because he was scared of the financial situation. I was devastated. Sure I did not love my job, but at least I was finally working in my career and was earning more money than I had ever had before. My mind told me that staying with the job was the right thing to do. I was never taught how to be happy so not being happy at my job did not seem like a big deal to me.

That dark Thursday, I completely shut down. My boyfriend did not love me enough to move to another state with me. We fought and were probably going to break up. The next day was a day from hell at working. Everything that could go wrong did go wrong. Because of all the problems that happened at my job on Friday, it was mandatory for everyone to work Saturday. However, my boyfriend had to get back home that Saturday and we had only driven one car. My boss said that I could not have the Saturday off because it was a mandatory work day.

That Friday, my roommate also frantically called me because she had just come out of her drug-induced haze long enough to realize that I had not been home all week. She completely forgot that she had told me that my boyfriend could not stay there that week so I had told her that I would not be there all week. I was super annoyed by her repeated calls and texts that I turned my phone off and headed to bed. The next morning, we got up and headed back to my boyfriend's home. I did not go to work and I did not turn my phone back on. I didn't turn my phone back on until that Tuesday. I was battling severe depression. I was a failure because I could not keep my job. I was depressed about the decision my boyfriend had made without any regard for my feelings.

When I turned my phone back on that Tuesday, I had  dozens of voicemails and texts. When unable to contact me, my crazy roommates had called my parents. When my parents could not contact me, they called the police for a missings persons. Because I had distanced myself from my family, my family did not even know for sure if I had a boyfriend, much less where he lived. By that time, there had been a missing persons case open for me for a couple days. The police were calling me. Friends I hadn't heard from in years were calling me. Everyone was saying that they would "love me no matter what." I was too scared to contact anyone. I did not want to explain to my parents. I did not want to talk to my crazy roommates. I just tried to hide. I did finally contact to police to cancel the missing person case. I then submitted myself in a psych ward. That turned out not being very good for me because of my severe anxiety. By the time I was released from the hospital, I was a nervous wreck with anxiety through the roof.

My mental breakdown was caused by many factors. One factor I know is that I was not listening to my own body. I was not taking care of my mental health. I did not even realize that my mental health was important. Mental health was for week, demon inhabited people. I was strong and smart. I did not need mental health.

This week has been extremely painful for me because I am watching my younger sister going through a similar mental breakdown. I don't know all of the details and I don't want to post them all here for her sake. However, I know the feeling all too well. She had a rough start to her young family but finally she and her husband had a good-paying job. However, once again, they did not enjoy the new state, they did not have any friends there, and they did not enjoy the job at all. It came to a breaking point. Unfortunately, she had a whole lot more to lose than just a career. Now my Mother has made an emergency visit to help her pick up the pieces of her life. I hurt so badly for her. She was following the formula our parents had given for her. She was working hard and ignoring her emotions, just like she was always taught. And she doesn't understand why this all has happened.

I am angry once again at our parents. Their teachings are still continuing to destroy our lives and cause us so much pain. Their teachings are still preventing us from living full, happy lives. I just wish I and all my siblings could break free of everything that is dragging us down. It's been a long, painful road, and I don't think it will be over any time soon. I just hope I can help guide my sister through it as she starts her own journey down the long, painful road.

I'm breaking inside for her.