I was 21 when I first tried to get help for my drug problem. Only two years prior I had tried my first opiate out of curiosity, I could not fathom where taking that first pill brought me. I had gotten caught stealing from my family, and was told I must go to treatment. Without any other option, that’s what I did. I surely did not want to hurt my family anymore but I also did not think I had a big problem and treated those couple years as a bad phase. I did what I have seen a lot of people do, I went to treatment because I was in trouble, not because I was ready to change my life forever.

The truth of the matter is this is a place where; if you have ever lived here, you could very easily understand where it is I get my self-diagnosis from. Sure, I may have only lived in the area for two years at the time of writing this, and no I have not by any degree seen the very worst of what the Downtown Eastside has to offer. I do thank my lucky stars every day for that little gift. I have seen some extremely disturbing things within those two years mind you; drug use, of course, because it is rampant- overdoses, yes because they are very common, death, another thing that until I came to the downtown Eastside I had a small experience with and absolutely never, this kind of death. This is a form of death that is slow, very slow for the majority. This comes from killing oneself from within. Sure, there is always the drug overdoses that the paramedics (God bless them for the things they do down here) cannot reverse. Sometimes they just cannot get there quick enough or the drug itself was just too damn lethal in the first place. People get shot and stabbed, and they have the living hell beat out of them. There are rapes and murders and the entire gamut of the things you would see in the likes of places such as New York city or South Central Los Angeles. I know this is Vancouver, supposedly a safe and beautiful city where this kind of thing does not occur—wrong, wrong on so many levels.

Narcissists and psychopaths manufacture chaos. In part, this is because they are not integrated and chaotic. They also most often were raised in chaotic environments that lacked structure and consistency. They have learned that by creating chaos and confusion, they are best able to portray their victims as "unstable." Normal people do not function well in chaos. Children thrive and crave structure. These folks intentionally create chaos in the lives of children, which lead to the children reacting in understandably negative ways.

When we are born, we're born with the fear of three things; the dark, loud noises, and falling down.

"The media (and politicians) is/are so quick to pick up the mental illness scapegoat because it/they know(s) that people need to blame the tragedy on something" - Mike Hedrick

A little over a month ago I lost someone very close to me. He had his own demons, and leading up to what would be a difficult day for myself and him, I received a couple of messages on different days asking for help. I went, without question, in the middle of the night to see him; we talked and reminisced and he seemed fine after I left. Then I got a call one day at work to say I needed to get to the hospital, my friend was in there and had tried to kill himself. I was listed as his next of kin and I didn't know. Unfortunately, he didn't make it; his wounds, both mental and physical, were too much, and he didn't want to fight anymore.

I was fairly late to the anxiety party, I can't say it was one I particularly wanted to be invited to after hanging around the depression get-togethers for too long.

There was something wrong with me.

A lot of times, you hear people with medical or mental health conditions "disown" their diagnoses. They refrain from saying "my cancer", or, "my anxiety"—and for good reason. It has been shown that by separating yourself from your illness, you don't take on the negative attributes; you are not your illness.

There's a certain strength that comes along with being honest about where you need to be met.

My name is Richard Jones and this is my story!

I am an atheist. I hold to no gods, no faith, no religion. I don’t have a problem with people finding faith comforting, but I don’t believe in proselytizing and I think that “mission trips” are just a fancy way to say “colonialism.” However, a couple of years ago, I had a friend join The Satanic Temple, and because I try to take an active interest in the lives of my friends, I looked it up. And what I found there, was the Seven Tenets, that are the fundamental base to The Satanic Temple. They resonated with me, and I read more and wrote them out; and over the last two years, have applied them to my life, and my therapist and I agree for once that they have helped me. So without pretense or expectation, I present to you the Seven Tenets, and how I have applied them to my life to aid in my constant process of tweaking my outlook to improve my mental health.

I was 21 when I first tried to get help for my drug problem. Only two years prior I had tried my first opiate out of curiosity, I could not fathom where taking that first pill brought me. I had gotten caught stealing from my family, and was told I must go to treatment. Without any other option, that’s what I did. I surely did not want to hurt my family anymore but I also did not think I had a big problem and treated those couple years as a bad phase. I did what I have seen a lot of people do, I went to treatment because I was in trouble, not because I was ready to change my life forever.

The truth of the matter is this is a place where; if you have ever lived here, you could very easily understand where it is I get my self-diagnosis from. Sure, I may have only lived in the area for two years at the time of writing this, and no I have not by any degree seen the very worst of what the Downtown Eastside has to offer. I do thank my lucky stars every day for that little gift. I have seen some extremely disturbing things within those two years mind you; drug use, of course, because it is rampant- overdoses, yes because they are very common, death, another thing that until I came to the downtown Eastside I had a small experience with and absolutely never, this kind of death. This is a form of death that is slow, very slow for the majority. This comes from killing oneself from within. Sure, there is always the drug overdoses that the paramedics (God bless them for the things they do down here) cannot reverse. Sometimes they just cannot get there quick enough or the drug itself was just too damn lethal in the first place. People get shot and stabbed, and they have the living hell beat out of them. There are rapes and murders and the entire gamut of the things you would see in the likes of places such as New York city or South Central Los Angeles. I know this is Vancouver, supposedly a safe and beautiful city where this kind of thing does not occur—wrong, wrong on so many levels.

So a little about me..

Divorce is never pleasant. Divorcing a narcissist is traumatic and causes Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and Complex PTSD. While every person who enters into a relationship with a narcissist is a victim of abuse, I will use the word, "target."

The feeling of shame is one of the most overpowering feelings you can ever experience. The definition of the emotion implies that you had to have done something, therefore, you feel humiliated or embarrassed. I'm sure we've all been there after doing something out of character, and you end up feeling shameful.

I am not exactly sure how to start this article, but I think that it is important to discuss the importance of meeting one's emotional needs. In fact, for everyday life, it is vital, because if your own personal needs are not met, you start to withdraw from your interpersonal relationships, and become what some call a hermit. While every once and a while it is okay to hide in your shell, you need to make sure that this does not take over your entire life, because it is unhealthy to stay away from people for too long.

I was fairly late to the anxiety party, I can't say it was one I particularly wanted to be invited to after hanging around the depression get-togethers for too long.

Philosopher as an artist—In this article, I will be expanding upon the essay Instinct, Intelligence, and Anxiety by Alan Watts. This essay came into my life when I was having an internal debate of impulse vs. rational thought. How much of our experience is due to an excess of one or the other? Can we ever fully master our desires, or will they possess us and make free will obsolete?

We all feel anxious about something, or certain situations; an exam, going on a trip somewhere on your own for the first time, asking someone to go on a date with you. It's all different for everyone. Things that I might find easy, you may find difficult, and vice versa. But for some people, like me, almost everything makes me anxious, even things that I have done a million times before. But I'm fighting it, and if you're like me, hopefully you're fighting it too. It’s hard to be living everyday afraid and/or worried about a lot of things! We’re literally living in fear!

This past Wednesday, I had what would be considered a mental crack. Not a complete breakdown, but I had broken down throughout the day. Waking up on my day off, I had experienced a series of fluxes in my emotions that all lead up to me feeling empty and overflowing with tears. You may be wondering why or even when did I figure out that I was mentally cracking. Through the tears and anguish, I had begun to search out, to figuring out the reasons why. Why was I so damn sad when everything around me has been going well? Why was I feeling so empty that mustering the feeling of being "full" was a difficult task, especially in the things that had been going very well for me?

When I was eight, I felt true sadness for the first time; real, deep sadness. The kind of sadness that can’t be cured with a hug from your mum.

My aunt, who, like me, struggles with mental illness (me, bipolar disorder, her chronic depression). We've begun to exchange letters to track our comings and goings in hopes of at least to keep a steady diary charting our moods, at most to offer one another consolation and guidance to live fuller, more stable lives.

Today was the first day in over a week I got up and actually got stuck in on some housework. I'd overslept. Again. Not so much tired, as unwilling to face the world just yet. A feeling compounded by my little pickle having snuck in during night, her tiny arms wrapped around my neck and tiny face muzzled in my chest made the prospect of getting up that much less appealing. Add to that fact, I knew exactly what was waiting for me when I threw off that duvet. Pots and pans left to "soak" for a week, laundry piles so high it was questionable if I even have clean pants in the drawer, and a general swirl of clutter, both as a result of, and a reminder that I have been feeling less than great lately. I haven't been feeling on top of the world for a few months in fact, but this last week or so has seen a clear and undeniable decline in my wellness. It always starts the same; a general feeling of tiredness or fatigue. That in itself leads to a development in procrastination. As the to do list grows, so does my sense of avoidance. The avoidance allows the piles of washing up and laundry to grow, only driving my feelings of failure and hopelessness to a more resolute position in my mind. The feeling of hopelessness whirling around in my head, draining me of my energy, creates more of the same fatigue that brought me here.

Having anxiety or depression is hard, but living with both represents a constant battle. It is as if you are in a constant battle with yourself; your brain is trying to process so many things you feel it is on fire and is about to explode due to this increase of messages, memories, thoughts, etc. That's ok because there is hope in tomorrow. If no one has advised you before, then I will; you can live an enjoyable life with depression and anxiety. You can wake up with unspeakable comfort, sincerely appreciating that from this precise moment forth I have control.

Coping skills are, in my opinion, the key to beating mental illness. The best way to learn coping skills is by talking to a qualified therapist who knows your condition. I have not always been an advocate for therapy, but after spending time with a few good ones, I now realize their importance in recovery and maybe, a significant reduction of your symptoms.

Suicide.

Depression and anxiety are mental illnesses that I wish upon no one. They both ruin your life. They both make you believe you're not worth it. You want to do something with your life but something is holding you back. All you ever want to do is lay in bed and sleep. You can feel sad and lonely even if you have people around. You don't like to rely on people because you think you're bothering them. You can walk out of your house and your heart begins to beat uncontrollably. Anything you do makes you overthink. You keep everything inside and that's slowly killing you.

I put on twenty layers of mascara and red lipstick before I walk out the door. You can't cry in red lipstick, and who wants layers of thick black tears running down their faces? I cry when I'm angry, I cry when I'm sad, and I cry when I'm happy. If I experience an intense emotion, it usually ends in tears. I drown in my feelings. I don't swim in them. Today I woke up gasping for air. I hope I don't go under again.

When we are born, we're born with the fear of three things; the dark, loud noises, and falling down.

There was something wrong with me.

Mothers, the strongest creature in our world. They are able to do the job of six people in one day, for multiple children. They are able to go almost all day without drinking water or eating well, or even taking time for themselves! We see this strength almost right after a mother finds out she is pregnant. She puts her child before everything. She goes back to school, not because she wants to, but because she sees the future she could provide for her children. We don’t, however, see her inner struggle. We don’t see the mom with a week old newborn struggling to stay afloat mentally. We don’t see the battle—no, the war—that is going on inside of her mind that she is fighting everyday. She is strong, but she can’t do it on her own.

There are two people inside of me.

This isn’t as easy as people make it out to be. People tell me to just be more active. To change my diet. Go to the gym. Work out. It isn’t that simple. It is never that simple.

I was 8 years old when I started my first ever diet, Weight Watchers. Before I had finished growing or hit puberty, I was already trying to make myself smaller. This sparked a long journey of crash dieting, disordered eating, starvation, and body dysmorphia. My parents were only doing what they thought was best, guided by the poor advice of a medical professional. If you are familiar with my story, then you know that they had already lost one daughter at this point. I think my changing body was a reminder of my mortality to them. I think we were all existing in a system that preyed upon this fear. I already had so much of my childhood taken away from me through the trauma of losing my little sister. Diet culture was right there to swoop in and take what little childhood I had left.

Narcissists and psychopaths manufacture chaos. In part, this is because they are not integrated and chaotic. They also most often were raised in chaotic environments that lacked structure and consistency. They have learned that by creating chaos and confusion, they are best able to portray their victims as "unstable." Normal people do not function well in chaos. Children thrive and crave structure. These folks intentionally create chaos in the lives of children, which lead to the children reacting in understandably negative ways.

In this tragic state of school shootings, women being killed by their partners frequently, constant news of corruption in our family courts and movies and music industries, Child Protective Services, Police, Social Workers, the foster-care system, political offices (all of which serve as processors and purveyors of pedophilia and child sex trafficking), we are desperate for the "reasons."

I sit here today feeling accomplished and generally happy. I feel ambitious, positive, healthy and capable. Tomorrow may shine a different light on my life, so I close my eyes and tell myself to live in the moment. The impending doom that I try so hard to avoid every day will eventually make an appearance. It might not be today, tomorrow, or even a few weeks from now, but the feeling of being swallowed up by the whole world and sucked into a deep pit of despair will rear its evil head. I believe that acceptance and being aware of what that looks like before it consumes you is key to surviving this whirlwind of a disorder: BPD. Borderline Personality Disorder.

"The media (and politicians) is/are so quick to pick up the mental illness scapegoat because it/they know(s) that people need to blame the tragedy on something" - Mike Hedrick

Note: Anything stated below is purely from my own opinions and experience, and is not the voice of the Collective, although this will be checked by other admins before posting! This post is about my experiences with my mental health, so if this is a trigger for you, please stop reading.

It was around 1987, and I was working in my first job since leaving school. I was a trainee Pharmacy Technician in a small town called Padiham. A change in health policy meant that many people who had been in-patients were discharged from a hospital called Calderstones and placed into something being called care in the community. Calderstones was one of several hospitals classed at the time as being for the mentally ill. It was home to people who society over the years classed as outcasts. Some of the patients, a term I use loosely, were deaf people who struggled to speak; placing young women in an institution after giving birth and some people who had a variety of mental illnesses. I remember the re-homing of a couple of people in communal accommodation not far from the chemist where I worked.

10/1/19 3:48 pm (pst)

The effects of abuse and neglect: With the trauma-informed care movement, we have all heard that early childhood abuse and neglect impact brain development. Even exclusively psychological abuse has enduring negative effects on brain development. Physical, sexual, and psychological trauma in childhood may lead to psychiatric difficulties that show up in childhood, adolescence, or adulthood. The victim’s anger, shame, and despair can be directed inward to spawn symptoms such as depression, anxiety, suicidal ideation, and post-traumatic stress, or directed outward as aggression, impulsiveness, delinquency, hyperactivity, and substance abuse.

For every tragic story there is a beginning. The roadmap that got you to that point. For me, it was a wonderful fairytale turned nightmare.

Healing Through Art Therapy

There a lot of issues that are stigmatized in society, whether it be mental illness, drugs, or other various health issues. That is just to name a few and I am sure there are tons more. So, why did society become that way? Was society always so intolerant or naive to these issues?

I wrote this script after reading the screenplay for one of my favorite movies, Forest Gump.