- Sarah Spiers
As stated, I attended the round table on
Mental Health and Guns in America. To say that I was rather displeased
with the discussion on mental health until later in the deal when the
court appointed guardian, Mr. Cross, spoke on behalf of those of us with
mental illnesses.
I was 3rd out of 4 to address the round table. This is what I said:
"I'm feeling rather stigmatized right now. I mean, this woman said she's scared of me because I have a mental issue.
My name is Sarah Spiers. I am the founder of St. Dymphna's Mental
Health Support Group in St. Joseph. I've been through a lot in my
battles against bipolar. I've witnessed others' struggles. Please truly
invite the patients' point of view, thoughts and feelings into your
considerations.
There are 3 areas that need fixed.
1st, stigma. We face injustice and prejudice constantly. People are
scared of us simply because we fight an invisible battle. It's taboo to
have a mental illness in America. Remove the stigma and people will seek
help for themselves and their children.
2nd, Education and
Awareness. Teach kids to love and accept. Teach teachers, law
enforcement, professionals and our family how to deal with us. Plant the
seeds of education and wisdom so compassion can flourish.
3rd,
fix the broken systems. If you want to help us, make it easier and more
affordable to see the 3 people we need for medication and therapy.
I challenge you to get help as an unemployed and uninsured person.
Thank you."
When the meeting concluded, Representative Galen Higdon of the 29th
District came to me in an abrupt manner and shook my hand. He said I
showed courage standing up and saying what I said. We visited a bit and
then I visited with Jim Neely for approximately 15 minutes and then
Representative Mike Kelley showed his appreciation for my speech. We
visited for awhile.
I am currently drafting a letter to Rep.
Higdon. He's local. He knows the history. He's former Law Enforcement so
I can get their point of view, better enabling me to think of
solutions.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Sarah's Story
- Sarah Spiers
I have battled mental illness as long as I can remember. Looking back at how I acted and little things I did as a kid would send up red flags. But, in the early '80's nobody thought to look for mental illnesses in children. We were just odd, the black sheep of the family.
Unfortunately, that meant I slipped through an important crack. Early diagnosis. Spot the problem before it becomes a problem.
It wasn't until I was 16 that I was forced to go to the doctor to deal with my anger issues and was diagnosed with depression, which changed to depression with anxiety. I remember thinking that I wasn't crazy so I don't need any crazy pills. Life's hard enough for me at school, all I need is word to get out that I'm taking anti-depressants.
I, as a patient and a sufferer felt the burn of the stigma associated with mental illness. I believed in the theory of crazy people do crazy things, there's something "wrong" with us, etc.
I was put on Paxil. At 16 I should not have been on that drug. It's been shown to lead to increased suicidal behavior in teenagers and young adults. It's no wonder that at 19/20 when I entered a high stress job with a hostile work environment I started developing suicidal thoughts. I didn't think much of them. They did concern my brother, though. I ended up being asked to resign from my position as EMT based on my inability to work with others, among other things. Patients had a problem with me, at least that's what I've been told.
I had to move in with my parents after only 2 months of freedom and independence. I went through a couple of bad relationships. I started cutting. (Cut free for about 8 years now). My life spiraled down. I went insane, at least what I'd call insane, and didn't respond well to the rejections being thrown at me.
I tried to commit suicide 3 times in a short time period. That's how the cutting started.
I hit rock bottom. I wanted to die, but I didn't want to die. I wanted freedom from my brain, my demons, myself.
I sought counseling... on my own. I wasn't going to live my life the way I had the previous 2 years. I wanted to live in peace and harmony. The first step to finding a counselor is to go to your general practitioner and get a referral.
I made the appointment with the Nurse Practitioner. I told her what symptoms I was having and that I was suicidal and I thought that I might have Borderline Personality Disorder. She said:
It sounds like you've read one too many books.
To get insurance to cover the counselor for me I had to call the Employee Assistance Program number and go through their red tape. She asked what was going on. I told her that I had been having suicidal thoughts and that I thought I might have Borderline Personality Disorder. Her response:
Hahaha it sounds like you've been reading too much.
Yeah. Like I wasn't depressed enough, now you make fun of me, right?
All of this when I was 22, the perfect age for bipolar to start seriously affecting life. Did I mention I was a Corrections Officer with access to firearms? It's a good thing I loved my job because I had ample opportunity to off myself in the car.
I was diagnosed with Bipolar at 24. It then got changed to Bipolar Type 1. Now, in the last few weeks, it's been improved to Bipolar Type 1 - Rapid Cycling - Last episode unspecified. This means I'll get to go from one end of the spectrum to the other weekly rather than on an extended time frame. It is not fun.
With diagnosis comes treatment. For me that means meds and counseling. All was well for about two years when I was only on Lexapro. Then the Lexapro stopped working. I kept taking it for another 4. This began the game of "Find the right anti-depressant" followed by "Find the right mood stabilizer" followed by "Find the right doses." This went on in exhausting length. I was ready to just give up. I couldn't find anything that worked. This is what I get for not seeking a trained psychiatrist. Although, I'm sure we would have had the same problem if I did get to a trained psychiatrist sooner.
I had super highs and super lows. In Feb. 2011 I felt suicidal again and hospitalized myself. My treatment in the ER was atrocious. They put in my chart that I was combative so they could chemically restrain me with Haldol and Ativan. I was asleep when they decided I needed this. They had to wake me up to give me the shots. After a long 9 1/2 hours I found myself at Shawnee Mission Medical Center where I was watched and released with a treatment plan.
That was a few months after I lost my mother. With her, my entire world went black for about 2 years.
In the summer of '12 I was put on Effexor which changed to Effexor XR. I should have known something was wrong when I vomited within 20 minutes of taking it the first time.
Of the "Call your doctor immediately if:" list, I had these symptoms. Rigid muscles, sweating, confusion, fast heartbeats, tremors, agitation, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, loss of coordination, trouble concentrating, headache, memory problems, confusion, cough. I'm talking my heartbeat was constantly at 130 for 5 days straight. I literally thought I was going to die.
I cut a few cysts out of my head and sought treatment for the wound afterwards. I had been picking scabs to a seriously abnormal degree... so much that I got an infection. I was allergic to the antibiotics so they didn't work. The wound care doctor fixed me up though.
In my records it shows that another doctor had told my doctor that I might need to be committed. This was Sept. 5 this year. The General Practitioner I was seeing decided she couldn't treat my psychiatric problems anymore. I bawled. It took 10 minutes for me to be able to tell my aunt what had happened.
In hindsight, I was depressed and then spiked to a high mania afterwards. I was so depressed and so sick by this medication that I laid in bed 24-7. I slept during the day, I didn't shower or brush my long, thick, coarse hair. It took my aunt 8 hours to undo my hair so it looked somewhat normal again. I did this for probably 6 weeks. I didn't want to do anything. I dropped off of Facebook, I dropped off of the world... into my well of Hell.
Well, being dropped like I was sent me into a tizzy. I got it in my mind that my aunt had somehow played a part in the doctor dropping me as part of a vendetta against me. I wrote 3 "letters" and released a chapter of a real life book to certain people. The first letter was a letter I wrote to the aunt and her daughter. The 2nd letter was a police report putting forth some suspicions and concerns I had about a couple of people. The 3rd letter was really an explanation of my actions.
It was deemed by the Sheriff and Judge that I was unstable, a threat to myself and a threat to others. I was involuntarily committed for 5 days. On the day I get released, someone claiming to be from the sheriff's office called the psych ward that I was on and told them that I was using the phone to make threatening calls. They released me anyway.
While I was in the hospital I was served with 3 ex parte orders. It came out in the ex parte's and court that I had threatened to kill the doctors, their spouses, their children and grandchildren, the staff at their clinic and all the patients I could find.
I just wanted to out some corruption. My aunt and cousin got upset and actually convinced these people that I'm a threat to everyone.
In court, I remember thinking "these people don't know what they're talking about. Seriously, I'm bipolar so that makes me a potential babykiller somehow?" Luckily the judge found in my favor, but not before telling me that my behavior was completely unacceptable and had it been someone else that put the ex parte's up against me he would have granted it for them. Nice. Thanks. Bye. I'm not sticking around to make you any more upset with me.
This whole episode has had its consequences. Some good, like I found my meaning and my purpose in life. Some bad, like it set me back emotionally in ways... but kicked me forward in others.
I've never been able to regain my complete independence. I never will, either, with as bad as this bipolar is. I will literally have to have moderate supervision for my entire life to help make sure I'm not swinging too far one way or the other and that the proper steps are taken accordingly.
It is a good thing that I was forced to take a vacation from college for awhile. That stressor on top of everything else would have been a bit too much to carry.
I've picked myself up by the bootstraps, started this support/advocacy group and prospered so far. I leave every Tuesday night with a smile in my heart because I know that one or two hours meant a lot to the people there and I helped them in some way find peace for a little bit.
I have battled mental illness as long as I can remember. Looking back at how I acted and little things I did as a kid would send up red flags. But, in the early '80's nobody thought to look for mental illnesses in children. We were just odd, the black sheep of the family.
Unfortunately, that meant I slipped through an important crack. Early diagnosis. Spot the problem before it becomes a problem.
It wasn't until I was 16 that I was forced to go to the doctor to deal with my anger issues and was diagnosed with depression, which changed to depression with anxiety. I remember thinking that I wasn't crazy so I don't need any crazy pills. Life's hard enough for me at school, all I need is word to get out that I'm taking anti-depressants.
I, as a patient and a sufferer felt the burn of the stigma associated with mental illness. I believed in the theory of crazy people do crazy things, there's something "wrong" with us, etc.
I was put on Paxil. At 16 I should not have been on that drug. It's been shown to lead to increased suicidal behavior in teenagers and young adults. It's no wonder that at 19/20 when I entered a high stress job with a hostile work environment I started developing suicidal thoughts. I didn't think much of them. They did concern my brother, though. I ended up being asked to resign from my position as EMT based on my inability to work with others, among other things. Patients had a problem with me, at least that's what I've been told.
I had to move in with my parents after only 2 months of freedom and independence. I went through a couple of bad relationships. I started cutting. (Cut free for about 8 years now). My life spiraled down. I went insane, at least what I'd call insane, and didn't respond well to the rejections being thrown at me.
I tried to commit suicide 3 times in a short time period. That's how the cutting started.
I hit rock bottom. I wanted to die, but I didn't want to die. I wanted freedom from my brain, my demons, myself.
I sought counseling... on my own. I wasn't going to live my life the way I had the previous 2 years. I wanted to live in peace and harmony. The first step to finding a counselor is to go to your general practitioner and get a referral.
I made the appointment with the Nurse Practitioner. I told her what symptoms I was having and that I was suicidal and I thought that I might have Borderline Personality Disorder. She said:
It sounds like you've read one too many books.
To get insurance to cover the counselor for me I had to call the Employee Assistance Program number and go through their red tape. She asked what was going on. I told her that I had been having suicidal thoughts and that I thought I might have Borderline Personality Disorder. Her response:
Hahaha it sounds like you've been reading too much.
Yeah. Like I wasn't depressed enough, now you make fun of me, right?
All of this when I was 22, the perfect age for bipolar to start seriously affecting life. Did I mention I was a Corrections Officer with access to firearms? It's a good thing I loved my job because I had ample opportunity to off myself in the car.
I was diagnosed with Bipolar at 24. It then got changed to Bipolar Type 1. Now, in the last few weeks, it's been improved to Bipolar Type 1 - Rapid Cycling - Last episode unspecified. This means I'll get to go from one end of the spectrum to the other weekly rather than on an extended time frame. It is not fun.
With diagnosis comes treatment. For me that means meds and counseling. All was well for about two years when I was only on Lexapro. Then the Lexapro stopped working. I kept taking it for another 4. This began the game of "Find the right anti-depressant" followed by "Find the right mood stabilizer" followed by "Find the right doses." This went on in exhausting length. I was ready to just give up. I couldn't find anything that worked. This is what I get for not seeking a trained psychiatrist. Although, I'm sure we would have had the same problem if I did get to a trained psychiatrist sooner.
I had super highs and super lows. In Feb. 2011 I felt suicidal again and hospitalized myself. My treatment in the ER was atrocious. They put in my chart that I was combative so they could chemically restrain me with Haldol and Ativan. I was asleep when they decided I needed this. They had to wake me up to give me the shots. After a long 9 1/2 hours I found myself at Shawnee Mission Medical Center where I was watched and released with a treatment plan.
That was a few months after I lost my mother. With her, my entire world went black for about 2 years.
In the summer of '12 I was put on Effexor which changed to Effexor XR. I should have known something was wrong when I vomited within 20 minutes of taking it the first time.
Of the "Call your doctor immediately if:" list, I had these symptoms. Rigid muscles, sweating, confusion, fast heartbeats, tremors, agitation, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, loss of coordination, trouble concentrating, headache, memory problems, confusion, cough. I'm talking my heartbeat was constantly at 130 for 5 days straight. I literally thought I was going to die.
I cut a few cysts out of my head and sought treatment for the wound afterwards. I had been picking scabs to a seriously abnormal degree... so much that I got an infection. I was allergic to the antibiotics so they didn't work. The wound care doctor fixed me up though.
In my records it shows that another doctor had told my doctor that I might need to be committed. This was Sept. 5 this year. The General Practitioner I was seeing decided she couldn't treat my psychiatric problems anymore. I bawled. It took 10 minutes for me to be able to tell my aunt what had happened.
In hindsight, I was depressed and then spiked to a high mania afterwards. I was so depressed and so sick by this medication that I laid in bed 24-7. I slept during the day, I didn't shower or brush my long, thick, coarse hair. It took my aunt 8 hours to undo my hair so it looked somewhat normal again. I did this for probably 6 weeks. I didn't want to do anything. I dropped off of Facebook, I dropped off of the world... into my well of Hell.
Well, being dropped like I was sent me into a tizzy. I got it in my mind that my aunt had somehow played a part in the doctor dropping me as part of a vendetta against me. I wrote 3 "letters" and released a chapter of a real life book to certain people. The first letter was a letter I wrote to the aunt and her daughter. The 2nd letter was a police report putting forth some suspicions and concerns I had about a couple of people. The 3rd letter was really an explanation of my actions.
It was deemed by the Sheriff and Judge that I was unstable, a threat to myself and a threat to others. I was involuntarily committed for 5 days. On the day I get released, someone claiming to be from the sheriff's office called the psych ward that I was on and told them that I was using the phone to make threatening calls. They released me anyway.
While I was in the hospital I was served with 3 ex parte orders. It came out in the ex parte's and court that I had threatened to kill the doctors, their spouses, their children and grandchildren, the staff at their clinic and all the patients I could find.
I just wanted to out some corruption. My aunt and cousin got upset and actually convinced these people that I'm a threat to everyone.
In court, I remember thinking "these people don't know what they're talking about. Seriously, I'm bipolar so that makes me a potential babykiller somehow?" Luckily the judge found in my favor, but not before telling me that my behavior was completely unacceptable and had it been someone else that put the ex parte's up against me he would have granted it for them. Nice. Thanks. Bye. I'm not sticking around to make you any more upset with me.
This whole episode has had its consequences. Some good, like I found my meaning and my purpose in life. Some bad, like it set me back emotionally in ways... but kicked me forward in others.
I've never been able to regain my complete independence. I never will, either, with as bad as this bipolar is. I will literally have to have moderate supervision for my entire life to help make sure I'm not swinging too far one way or the other and that the proper steps are taken accordingly.
It is a good thing that I was forced to take a vacation from college for awhile. That stressor on top of everything else would have been a bit too much to carry.
I've picked myself up by the bootstraps, started this support/advocacy group and prospered so far. I leave every Tuesday night with a smile in my heart because I know that one or two hours meant a lot to the people there and I helped them in some way find peace for a little bit.
The Broken System
-Sarah Spiers
I was interviewed by a St. Joseph News Press reporter yesterday in regards to St. Dymphna's. The question was posed: What systemic failures are there? I really was at a loss for words, because there's so much.
An example of how difficult the mental healthcare system is to navigate, let me tell you a story. A woman with many health issues, including debilitating depression, ends up in the hospital in acute psychological distress. She's diagnosed, treated, watched for a few days, released.
She goes to fill her medicine so she can cope with the outside world and her inner demons. She can't afford them because Medicaid forced her to go by her husband's income, rather than hers, which is 0. She finally gets them, and they don't work. She gets a new prescription and, voila, same problem. She can't get them filled because she's on spend down.
She knows she is destined for the hospital again if something doesn't change. She's said it herself.
And, she's experiencing difficulties in getting disability to approve her claim. She's at a breaking point. She's a strong woman, but strength wears down eventually.
All she needs is the system to work in her favor.
That's just one example of the system failing someone. It's everywhere, at all levels of government, the pharmaceutical companies, the lack of funding for mental healthcare, lack of psychiatrists, therapists and counselors... it's failing everywhere.
We mentally ill, as a whole, need representation. Right now that is up to NAMI, the biggest mental health advocacy group in the U.S. They are doing their part, but if you listen to the media, there is almost no representation on the patient's behalf. Decisions are being made about us and for us without our input.
The systemic problems can be fixed if everyone comes to the table and we actually brainstorm.
I was interviewed by a St. Joseph News Press reporter yesterday in regards to St. Dymphna's. The question was posed: What systemic failures are there? I really was at a loss for words, because there's so much.
An example of how difficult the mental healthcare system is to navigate, let me tell you a story. A woman with many health issues, including debilitating depression, ends up in the hospital in acute psychological distress. She's diagnosed, treated, watched for a few days, released.
She goes to fill her medicine so she can cope with the outside world and her inner demons. She can't afford them because Medicaid forced her to go by her husband's income, rather than hers, which is 0. She finally gets them, and they don't work. She gets a new prescription and, voila, same problem. She can't get them filled because she's on spend down.
She knows she is destined for the hospital again if something doesn't change. She's said it herself.
And, she's experiencing difficulties in getting disability to approve her claim. She's at a breaking point. She's a strong woman, but strength wears down eventually.
All she needs is the system to work in her favor.
That's just one example of the system failing someone. It's everywhere, at all levels of government, the pharmaceutical companies, the lack of funding for mental healthcare, lack of psychiatrists, therapists and counselors... it's failing everywhere.
We mentally ill, as a whole, need representation. Right now that is up to NAMI, the biggest mental health advocacy group in the U.S. They are doing their part, but if you listen to the media, there is almost no representation on the patient's behalf. Decisions are being made about us and for us without our input.
The systemic problems can be fixed if everyone comes to the table and we actually brainstorm.
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