"We seldom get into trouble when we speak softly. It is only when we raise our voices that the sparks fly and tiny molehills become great mountains of contention."
When
I was first diagnosed with my illness, I felt relieved that there was
a reason for my inability to control certain things in my life. It
explained my inability to sleep, my inability to slow my thoughts
down. It explained how my brain could play tricks on all five of my
senses, why I felt, saw, smelled and heard things that others
couldn’t.
It
explained the intense mood swings that seemed to pop up out of
nowhere. It explained the lack of energy, nonexistent motivation and
heavy darkness that clouded my understanding of life in general. I
felt relieved to know that it wasn’t my fault. I had a severe
chronic illness that left me debilitated. The medications I’ve
used caused an additional smorgasbord of symptoms out of my personal
control.
In
short, I gradually began to give up trying to fight it and gave in to
the overwhelming existence my life had become. I was sick. It was
chronic. Even the best medications weren’t helping me. There
was nothing I could do to change my circumstances, so why try?
For
years I watched as my ability to take control of my symptoms slowly
deteriorated. Mental illness is weird that way. I was broken and
flawed. It’s just the way I was. I resigned myself to a fate
worse than death. I lived in a temporal outer darkness.
What
made it worse was that those who provided me with mental health
services, my family and those who used to be my friends and
associates ascribed all that I did — not measuring up to their
standard of “normal” — to my illness. They too
believed that my illness was something that I could not escape.
When
everyone around me blamed my illness for my behavior, emotions and
responses to external stimuli, it only reiterated that that was just
how I was. There was nothing that could be done about it short of
taking my medication on a religious basis and trying to live my life
as best I could — given my circumstances.
In
the summer of 2011, I took a class called Peer Employment Training
from an organization called Recovery Innovations. I retook and
completed the class this past January.
In
this class, the teacher introduced a phrase to me that I often
silently repeat and vocally use with others who walk in my shoes.
“Until now.” Every time a class member made a limiting
statement on themselves or others, the entire class would shout
together, “Until now!”
“I
haven’t been able to move past my symptoms — until now.”
“My
doctors won’t listen to me — until now.”
“I
can’t get a job — until now.”
“I
have no friends — until now.”
“I’ve
always gotten sick in stressful situations — until now.”
“I
was never able to complete my education — until now.”
“Because
of my illness, I’ve been homeless — until now.”
“Medications
have never worked — until now.”
In
the recent general conference, Elder
Ronald L. Hallstrom
spoke of this principle when he said, “Once
any of us conclude, ‘That’s just the way I am,’ we
give up our ability to change.”
I
am an agent of change. I can alter my future. The teacher of that
class taught me that regardless of what had happened in my past, it
was up to me to do something about my life ahead.
True,
there were many things I couldn’t do on my own, but I had to be
the instigator. I had to be the one who determined that just because
that’s how things were, they didn’t have to stay that
way. It was my job to figure out how to change my life. I am the
expert on living with my illness. I am the expert of my own life. I
am the expert on what I want my life to become.
Since
that class, I’ve become that expert. No longer do I allow my
life to happen, wallowing in the “woe’s me”
quagmire. Now when symptoms occur, I have an action plan. I take
charge. I believe in myself.
As
I’ve strengthened my ability to deal with my symptoms, they no
longer have the power to render me useless. When extreme stressors
trigger overwhelming symptoms, I use my Wellness Recovery Action
Plan, get back on my feet, dust myself off and move forward.
Things
that once took me months, if not years to overcome, take me hours and
sometimes days to do so. Even still, I overcome.
Sarah Price Hancock, a graduate of San Diego State University's rehabilitation
counseling Masters of Science program with a certificate psychiatric
rehabilitation.
Having embarked on her own journey with a mental health diagnosis, she is
passionate about psychiatric recovery. She enjoys working as a lector
for universities, training upcoming mental health professionals.
Sarah also enjoys sharing insights with peers working to strengthen
their "recovery toolbox." With proper support, Sarah
knows psychiatric recovery isn’t just possible — it’s
probable.
Born and raised in San Diego, California, Sarah served a Spanish-speaking
and ASL mission for the LDS Church in the Texas Dallas Mission. She
was graduated from Ricks College and BYU. Sarah currently resides in
San Diego and inherited four amazing children when she married the
man of her dreams in 2011. She loves writing, public speaking,
ceramics, jewelry-making and kite-flying — not necessarily in
that order.