Best 923 quotes in «mental illness quotes» category

I was always a good girl. I was a straight-A student, top of my class. I did as I was told. I was polite to my elders. I was good to my siblings. I went to church. It was very easy to hide how very bad I was becoming from my family, from everyone. Being good is the best way to be bad.

I was always asking myself why. Why am I feeling this? Thinking that if I knew the cause I could find the cure. But of course there was no reasonable why, at least not in the present. I was awash in an accumulation of past feelings and future dreads, all similar, at least as far as my brain was concerned, and so, lumped together as one. But nobody can handle a lifetime of experience in one moment. That's why depression crushes you.

I was back in disgust. I stood in the centre of the big room, naked, letting the heat strike me from the three points of heat, and I knew, and it was an illumination — one of those things one has always known, but never really understood before — that all sanity depends on this: that it should be a delight to feel the roughness of a carpet under smooth soles, a delight to feel heat strike the skin, a delight to stand upright, knowing the bones are moving easily under flesh. If this goes, then the conviction of life goes too. But I could feel none of this. The texture of the carpet was abhorrent to me, a dead processed thing; my body was a thin, meagre, spiky sort of vegetable, like an unsunned plant; and when I touched the hair on my head it was dead. I felt the floor bulge up under me. The walls were losing their density. I knew I was moving down into a new dimension, further away from sanity than I had ever been. I knew I had to get to the bed fast. I could not walk, so I let myself down on my hands and knees and crawled to the bed and lay on it, covering myself.

I was lost in a void of perpetual darkness. Disconnected from myself. Turned inside out. No sign of life. Eventually, the darkness was my light and the void a haven – a quiet place where I could nurse my secret and lick my wounds.

I was not taking [my prescription] quite as often as I was technically supposed to. Partly, I kept forgetting, but also there was something else I couldn't quite identify, some way-down fear that taking a pill to become myself was wrong.

I was shocked and terrified to hear Dr. Summer say I had what was formerly known as multiple personality disorder. Is that like Sybil? Am I like the woman in The Three Faces of Eve? My head began to spin. What do I have inside of me? Is there a crazy person in there? What am I? I felt like a freak. I was afraid to have anyone know. I have a mental illness. People make fun of people like me. Upon hearing my diagnosis, I stopped thinking of myself as smart, creative, or clever. Even though Dr. Summer had worked hard to help me understand that I had developed an amazingly adaptive survival technique, I no longer thought of it that way at all. I was overwhelmed by fear and shame. The words multiple personality disorder echoed in my mind. I thought of all the ways people with multiple personalities were ridiculed and marginalized: They're locked away in mental institutions. They are really sick. I'm not going to be the subject of people's jokes. I am a lawyer. I work at the U.S. Department of Justice. The more I thought about it, the deeper my despair grew.

i was once swallowed in a dark shroud of fear, pain, and self-loathing which i believed i couldn’t voice because if i spoke of my loneliness would it not prove my uselessness? light could not break the shadows unless i asked for help and when i finally became so lost i reached out in desperation for even the smallest guidance every tearful thought i had hidden was exposed in all of its falsehood depression is not the problem it’s when we choose to conceal it -My Relationship with Depression

I wasn't sure if it was safe for me to be sharing time and space with other people, who all seemed so much gentler and safer and less of a secret to themselves than I felt I was.

I was struck by the image of Daddy still dressed in that same plaid shirt and undershirt with the bloodstains below the neck, the one I had first seen him wearing in the jail the previous day.

I was the outsider in Fernhall House, but they were all outsiders really. Outside society. Outside time. You hear people say that those in asylums and care facilities are out of their minds. But in truth their minds are often the one thing they are not out of. Their whole being is sheltering behind walls of muscle and bone. Everything they are - and are not - exists within their sacrosanct headspace.

I was thinking about stabbing myself in the face—not actually considering stabbing myself in the face, but thinking that it would be a physical expression of how I felt.

I wondered if my friends would stop talking to me now that I was officially "crazy." What if they think I'll hurt their kids? That was a devastating thought. Then I was struck by an even bigger fear, and it's strange how long it took to surface: What will David do? Will he be afraid of me? Will he leave me? I can't make it without David. I was terrified, afraid of losing everything that I had worked so hard to build for myself, everything that kept me safe and secure. This can't be my life. It just can't be my life ran through my head over and over again.

I wonder ... if people think of suicidal ideation as thoughts that are obviously sinister. If they assume the voice comes in a snake hiss or a demon's warped bass. Does it occur to them that it could sound like the friend who nudges you at a bad, crowded party and whispers, conspiratorially, "Hey, lets get out of here". Do [they] consider how well you have to know yourself to see that moment for what it is and whisper back, "You are not my real friend".

I wonder if there is anyone who is not depraved. A wearisome thought. I want money. Unless I have it.... In my sleep, a natural death!

I would always be like this, always have this within me. There was no beating it. I would never slay the dragon, because the dragon was also me. My self and the disease were knotted together for life.

Jail has become the biggest mental health hospital.

Janna knew - Rikki knew — and I knew, too — that becoming Dr Cameron West wouldn't make me feel a damn bit better about myself than I did about being Citizen West. Citizen West, Citizen Kane, Sugar Ray Robinson, Robinson Crusoe, Robinson miso, miso soup, black bean soup, black sticky soup, black sticky me. Yeah. Inside I was still a fetid and festering corpse covered in sticky blackness, still mired in putrid shame and scorching self-hatred. I could write an 86-page essay comparing the features of Borderline Personality Disorder with those of Dissociative Identity Disorder, but I barely knew what day it was, or even what month, never knew where the car was parked when Dusty would come out of the grocery store, couldn't look in the mirror for fear of what—or whom—I'd see. ~ Dr Cameron West describes living with DID whilst studying to be a psychologist.

Je ne me suis jamais vraiment intéressée à la psychogénéalogie ni aux phénomènes de répétition transmis d'une génération à une autre qui passionnent certains de mes amis. J'ignore comment ces choses (l'inceste, les enfants morts, le suicide, la folie) se transmettent. Le fait est qu'elles traversent les familles de part en part, comme d'impitoyables malédictions, laissent des empreintes qui résistent au temps et au déni.

Jensen var det enda svarta alter ego jag hade. Han föddes svart eftersom pappa hade fördomar mot svarta. Han föddes in i mig så att jag kunde utveckla uppskattning för alla möjliga sorters människor. Han gav mig perspektiv så att jag inte skulle bli fördomsfull som pappa. Jensen läste om sin ras och gav sig själv ett slavnamn från sjuttonhundratalet. Med kunskapen Jensen gav mig, har jag förståelse för rashistoria och kamp.

I would always be like this, always have this inside me. There was no beating it. I would never slay the dragon, because the dragon was also me. My self and the disease were knotted together for life.

John raised an eyebrow. “So you wouldn’t date someone like you?” “Oh, hell, no. I’m insane, but that would be nuts.

Jesus commanded, 'Take up your cross and follow me.' That doesn't accord well with an evening spent on the therapist's couch. Americans do not ask for help--physically or psychologically--because the more we suffer, the more we are convinced we're doing the right thing. When our words and actions are hated, we think we must be speaking the truth. 'For thus they persecuted the prophets.

Kate was about to protest when something caused her to look in her mother’s direction. She was standing statue-like in front of the television with that brave, painted-on smile. Then Kate realized what had caught her attention: her mother’s tear-filled eyes were reflecting the on-off motion of the blinkers like a watery mirror. Kate stared transfixed at the flashing points of light that betrayed her mother’s pain. The urge to tell her father how much she wanted him to be proud of her and how much he had hurt her, faded in the dark depths of her mother’s eyes.

Just as I’m about to continue walking along the shoreline, the left third of the iceberg breaks off suddenly and crashes violently, like a high-rise apartment building imploding in the heart of the city. Tears roll down my face uncontrollably as I watch the two distinct halves of the iceberg drift further and further apart from each other. It’s devastating to watch something that seems so strong and unbreakable crumble in an instant. Even more devastating is the feeling that there’s nothing I can do about it.

Just to let you know I don't post my books and things on the net in hopes of being rich. The reason is. "I am a person with Bipolar Disorder" and they're are a lot of great minds on the "Famous Bipolar" list that died penniless. If I do the same it's no big deal but having a form of mental Illness I would love to get my name on the Bipolar list also one day. Preferably while I'm still living so I can make sure they spelled it right

Kara gives me a thumbs up, and I feel my hardened face melt into a smile. I’m so grateful to have her, someone to sympathize with me, who knows I’m not right but loves me anyway.

Killing yourself slowly is still killing yourself. Wanting to die is not the same as wanting to come home. Recovery is hard work. Not wanting to die is hard work.

L'anorexie ne se résume pas à la volonté qu'ont certaines jeunes filles de ressembler aux mannequins, de plus en plus maigres il est vrai, qui envahissent les pages des magazines féminins. Le jeûne est une drogue puissante et peu onéreuse, on oublie souvent de le dire. L'état de dénutrition anesthésie la douleur, les émotions, les sentiments, et fonctionne, dans un premier temps comme une protection. L'anorexie restrictive est une addiction qui fait croire au contrôle alors qu'elle conduit le corps à sa destruction. J'ai eu la chance de rencontrer un médecin qui avait pris conscience de ça, à une époque où la plupart des anorexiques étaient enfermées entre quatre murs dans une pièce vide, avec pour seul horizon un contrat de poids.

Labels can also create self-fulfilling prophecies. If you are told you are sick, you feel and act sick, and others treat you as if you are sick.

Librarians are trained to be polite, patient, and helpful, no matter who stands across the reference desk.The most important thing is that we look them in the eye and take them seriously. Our work demands that we become dreamers, holding onto hope that our society can be better, that we affirm for our patrons that they are still part of this society, no matter how marginalized they have become. I was raised on the notion that the public library is a civilizing institution. And if our work calms someone's demons or teaches someone else how to treat the mentally ill with respect, then I am proud to be part of the process.

Light existed all along. Of course it did. Who says it didn't because I couldn't see it?

Like many self-help books, The Deepest Blue is full of horrifyingly simplistic language and some admittedly good advice. Somehow the women in the book learn to say: That’s my depression talking. It’s not “me.” As if we could scrape the color off the iris and still see.

Look for every opportunity to encourage someone. You don’t know who is wrestling with demons that could end his or her life that day. A kind word comes from God. Be brave enough to act on it.

Locking away appetite, anger, the fullness of life, anorexia helps cover up whatever struggles inside. With its controlling bouts of bingeing and starvation, of trance and half-life, it becomes a shield to fend off despair and longing and what most of use would see as ordinary responsible behavior.

Logan looked at her and wondered how someone so beautiful could be so oblivious to their own beauty, how someone so smart could be so foolish to the extent of their own intellect and how someone so loving and compassionate could ever think she wasn’t worthy of love? It was like watching a blind man trapped and wandering aimlessly and helplessly in a scorching hot desert unable to see the small puddle of water that lay just a foot away. The only difference was that she had eyes. Two beautiful ones, yet she could not see. Is that what madness was? Was it to be able to view and appreciate every form of beauty but to be blind to the value and exquisiteness of one’s own? Logan believed in many forms of insanity but he knew in that instant watching her trembling frame on the train tracks that hers, that her illness, surpassed any clinical or psychological term known. Maybe she did suffer from depression or bipolar or schizophrenia. Who knew? All he was certain of in that moment that she suffered from no greater illness than the blindness of the heart.

Mandy would much rather have imaginary friends who were real than real friends who were imaginary.

Love is not for thrill-seekers, dreamers, or children with short attention spans. And you, son, fit into all three of those categories.

Madness is depressing illusion.

Many call it the 1000 yard stare and can't realize the pain when PTSD takes us there

Many empaths are diagnosed with chronic illnesses such as fibromyalgia, CFS, lupus, and various autoimmune diseases, as well as psychological disorders such as agoraphobia, social anxiety, ADHD, depression, sensory processing disorder, among many others.

Many of the people who regularly feed and cultivate relationships with pigeons are themselves on the fringes of society. They are disconnected from other people due to poverty, limited language skills, or mental illness, but they form deep emotional connections with the birds.

Many wish to believe that the odd is not so odd, the bizarre not so bizarre, and there is little changing of minds once they are set. There are only so many ways to understand the strange and disordered. The Greeks imagined gods to explain what they themselves could not. It is human nature to invent reasons for why the mind shatters, hope plummets, or the will to live dies. Scientific explanations are complicated and, for many, less humanly satisfying than visionary or religious ones. They are also less interesting than explanations based on planetary misalignment, toxins, or childhoods gone awry. There is a disturbing gap between what scientists and doctors know about mental illness and what most people believe.

Ma famille incarne ce que la joie a de plus bruyant, de plus spectaculaire, l’écho inlassable des morts, et le retentissement du désastre. Aujourd’hui je sais aussi qu’elle illustre, comme tant d’autres familles, le pouvoir de destruction du verbe, et celui du silence.

Many people say that psychiatrists just want to push drugs. Well I seriously have to say, without medication, I’d be locked up in a VA hospital somewhere.

Many people with Dissociative Disorders are very creative and used their creative capacities to help them cope with childhood trauma.p55

Many so-called disorders of the mind are simply disorders of thought.

Mental health is usually the last place people go when they think about someone being sick.

ME/CFS is not synonymous with depression or other psychiatric illnesses. The belief by some that they are the same has caused much con- fusion in the past, and inappropriate treatment. Nonpsychotic depression (major depression and dysthymia), anxiety disorders and somatization disorders are not diagnostically exclusionary, but may cause significant symptom overlap. Careful attention to the timing and correlation of symptoms, and a search for those characteristics of the symptoms that help to differentiate between diagnoses may be informative, e.g., exercise will tend to ameliorate depression whereas excessive exercise tends to have an adverse effect on ME/CFS patients.

Mental health isn’t all about mental illness; however, if we don’t manage our mental health our issues can take an ugly turn into mental illness.

Mental health sufferers are not crazy. They have special insight. You better recognize that setting aside your interest people to stay asleep and show empathy towards God's imperfect creations, otherwise the world has no meaning to exist.