Alone at Midnight.

By ROBBIE DEE

Over the past 25 years I have taken a lot of prescribed medications because of my mental health situation. In my twenties I felt like a guinea pig. The kicker was that most of them didn't work in the long term. I was constantly going through periods of not being well. I was continually hospitalized to adjust my medications. I would tell close friends that I was in the hospital for an 'oil change'. Like a lot of people I am very 'med sensitive' and had some adverse reactions. In 2006, I learned that the medication Ativan used to treat anxiety, actually increased mine and I 'went off the rails'.

In my twenties I would place bottles of medications that no longer worked into a shoe box entitled 'The Pill Graveyard'. Please note that I am not suggesting that people should do this. I now feel strongly that individuals should take any left over meds back to the pharmacy. I simply didn't do this back in the day. On the day I was moving out of my apartment I went through my 'Pill Graveyard' and reminisced with my Mom. The conversation went something like this. "Hello Lithium my old friend... You didn't work".

I try to stay neutral with my opinions when it comes to the subject of medications. I acknowledge and understand that a lot of individuals seek alternate options that work for them. I feel I don't really have a choice when it comes to my health situation. Admittedly I have been through the ringer when it comes to medication use. Over the years I have experienced severe side effects that were just as bad as my health situation they were prescribed for. Because of long periods of severe mental health symptoms I have deemed some medications very helpful and effective when it comes to treating my mental health. The key is finding the right one or combination. In my opinion, medications used to treat mental health have come a long way. Thank God it's no longer 1993.

Thanks for reading.  :)

You matter.

By ROBBIE DEE

I'm no stranger to danger when it comes to caffeine, nicotine and mental health. A lot of individuals who are dealing with mental health situations tend to become close friends with these substances. The 'why' is pretty easy to understand. These stimulants are often used to counter the sedating affects from medications. They also appear to help people cope with anxiety from social interactions in any given moment.

Twenty years ago I was taking 21 prescribed pills a day. I was also drinking buckets of coffee and chain smoking like a mad man. Coffee and cigarettes seemed to help me fight the sedation from the barrel of meds I was taking. My attitude used to be whatever helped me cope and get through the day was acceptable. I want to be clear here and say I am not recommending that people should turn to street drugs or pick-up smoking. I am simply acknowledging why individuals turn to substances in periods of personal crisis or while coping with anxiety during their daily routine. Substances appear to work in the short term. I have now learned that these substances can actually work against an individual's recovery and increase anxiety and agitation in the long term.

I have cut down on the coffee these days but I still struggle with nicotine addiction. I find that I use nicotine less when my self-esteem is high and my anxiety is low. I keep reminding myself that life happens one moment at a time. In this moment I am nicotine free.

Thanks for reading.  :)

You Matter.

By ROBBIE DEE

It was not even a year after my diagnosis. I didn't feel like an individual coping with a mental health situation. I felt labelled. The title of my diagnosis was not sitting well with me. I thought sharing it with others would somehow make me feel more comfortable with it.

The year was 1994. I was at a small house party. I wasn't feeling overly well but went anyways. An acquaintance of mine was making small talk with me and asked how I was? In that moment I blurted out my new diagnosis and expected him to be cool and supportive. He was not. He actually asked me if 'it' was contagious? He wasn't joking. He was being serious. I of course said yes it was and poked him periodically throughout the night.

It's now 25 years later. Stigma and ignorance have definitely mellowed a lot. Another positive is more and more people are being treated as individuals and are not just being labelled and lumped into mental health categories. Every individual is unique. Just because someone's uncle might have the same diagnosis as someone else does not mean they demonstrate the exact same symptoms or behaviors.

Thanks for reading.  :)

You Matter.

By ROBBIE DEE

Everyone's mental health story has a beginning - a starting point. Some stories unfold gradually as symptoms start to become more apparent over time. My story started with an explosion. The following is the short version.

So, boom, here we go!

It was the end of the summer of 1993. I was travelling in a van through the U.S. to return to Toronto for my third year of University. My trip only lasted 24 hours. I had been sleeping very little over the summer and did not even sleep a wink while driving with my three roommates. We had stopped for breakfast just outside of Missoula, Montana. I jumped out of the van in an empty parking lot and had it in my mind that I was walking home to Victoria, BC. Something just snapped in my mind. I was filled with adrenaline and overwhelm.

My roommates transported me to the nearest hospital to get checked out. After triage, my roommates quickly left. They were simply in shock because I was being admitted and they didn't know what to say or do.

I was now alone and admitted into a psychiatric ward at a private hospital in another country. I was politely strip searched and encouraged to sign Voluntary Admittance papers. This meant they could keep me up to 30 days. I was told if I did not sign them, a doctor would certify me. Being certified meant they could keep me for up to 90 days. I quickly signed the voluntary papers.

My Mom boarded three different planes to get to Missoula as quickly as possible. Family friends drove a Motorhome down from Victoria. The plan was to transport me back to the Canadian Border A.S.A.P. The hospital bill was already well over ten thousand dollars for just over 24 hours of treatment.  Because I was still a minor in the U.S, my Mom was able to get them to reluctantly release me into her care. The doctors had already diagnosed me as Schizophrenic or Bipolar. My Mom was disgusted that they diagnosed me so quickly. She told me that we would get my health situation dealt with properly when we returned home.

I made it home with no further incidents and my mental health situation was addressed slowly and properly in the end.

24 hours in a psych ward in the States didn't hurt me. It just scared me a bit - OK, a lot. It was a band-aid though. It kept me safe until I could get the long term help I needed.  

I am sharing this story because I feel it is not our past that defines us. I am sharing this story because I feel it is not where we have been in life that defines us. I am sharing this story because I feel it is where we are in the present moment that truly matters. Are we taking care of ourselves? Are we safe? Are we reaching out to others if needed?

Life happens one moment at a time.

Thanks for reading.

You matter.

I'm coming out of the mental health closet today with my very first blog post that is 25 years in the making. I've always wanted to share my story and to help others who have struggled or who are currently struggling with mental health. I guess you could say I have never been truly ready to do it properly until today. I am now not afraid of what others might think. I am now not afraid of judgement or ignorance. I am now not afraid to be my authentic self.

Each blog entry will feature a daily check in with what didn't work and what did work during that given day. There will be a lot of true stories along the way too. Humor has saved my life on several occasions so there will be a truck load of that as well.

Life happens one moment at a time. Sometimes I still forget that. I am not perfect. I am not an expert. I am simply a middle aged man who has 'gone off the rails' several times in my life and I am still here.

I want to be clear and say that this blog is not just about me sharing my own trials and tribulations. This blog is also about helping others. My ultimate goal here is to save even one life - maybe yours.