I always knew that I would be an artist -- long before I knew I had an illness called manic depression. Since I was also enthusiastic enough and outgoing, it was difficult for me to differentiate between a manic episode and a creative one.
While I was fortunate to have been diagnosed properly, my attention to my illness and my medication was short lived and resulted in a series of disasters. It's impossible for me to determine when my mania began, but I was certainly aware of my first depression...an event that altered my life shortly after the age of 29. The experience left me paralyzed. I was unable to cope with even the simple tasks of living. It took a long time for me to find out what was happening to me. During the months and months of not knowing, I spent most of my days in bed, unable to communicate with anyone.
Mental illness caused me to lose my husband, children, my upper east side apartment and its contents, and, eventually, found me living with my aging mother. Within days after arriving at her apartment in Queens, I was in a deep depression which lasted for more than three years. The downward swing of my mood was paralyzing. I was unable to have a clear thought. I spent every day reading the same newspaper over and over again. My mother, always in denial, did little to help, and was probably battling her own demons.
A writer named Gloria Hochman (who wrote Patty Duke's account of her illness) convinced me to go for immediate help at any local hospital or clinic. I did. Months later, on medication and working with a mental health professional, I began to feel strong enough to think about working again. My portfolio was one of the few things I was able to salvage from my former life and I felt it was contemporary enough for me to compete for a position. Within a short period of time, I found a wonderful job as a designer at a very good salary. After sixth months at my new job, my mother became very ill and I began to spiral into a manic phase which I wasn't clear enough about to address. Her death and my mania were concurrent and it wasn't long before I was an involuntary patient in the psychiatric ward at Elmhurst Hospital. That period was followed by two additional hospitalizations, the last of which almost put me into a long term facility.
The Social Services "reward" after three consecutive hospitalizations, within a one year period, is an Intensive Case Manager (ICM). Lou Carvajal, my ICM who still visits with me each week, a family member whose very special, and friends took me from the possibility of living in an adult home to sharing a spacious, beautiful apartment.
The idea of starting my own business was a result of my inability to get a job as a designer, not because I was lacking in ability or experience. Not because I lacked the credentials, but because I was "over qualified." What that means in the real world "your too old to be looking for a job." Starting my own business would give me, at least, the possibility of a career. I knew it would be necessary to return to school, learn to use a computer, and find enough money for the necessary equipment. It was also time to apply to VESID.
It took more than a year before my request for equipment was approved by VESID. When my computer was delivered, I sat at the keyboard and monitor and explored every program that was available to me and preparing to go after some business.
I strongly encourage people with mental illness to pursue their dreams of living a productive life. A great deal of moral, emotional and even financial support is available through organizations such as VESID and, particularity, INCube, Inc. since it is a 100% consumer-run and the staff is able to consider your ideas and your limitations.
I've had a very turbulent life and would have preferred to read about most of the events than to have had the experience. Yet, I remain very optimistic about the future and watching the growth of my business. Being an entrepreneur is risky, but then...so is being alive.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Recovery By Design
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Monday, November 28, 2011
Recovery By Design
I always knew that I would be an artist -- long before I knew I had an illness called manic depression. Since I was also enthusiastic enough and outgoing, it was difficult for me to differentiate between a manic episode and a creative one.
While I was fortunate to have been diagnosed properly, my attention to my illness and my medication was short lived and resulted in a series of disasters. It's impossible for me to determine when my mania began, but I was certainly aware of my first depression...an event that altered my life shortly after the age of 29. The experience left me paralyzed. I was unable to cope with even the simple tasks of living. It took a long time for me to find out what was happening to me. During the months and months of not knowing, I spent most of my days in bed, unable to communicate with anyone.
Mental illness caused me to lose my husband, children, my upper east side apartment and its contents, and, eventually, found me living with my aging mother. Within days after arriving at her apartment in Queens, I was in a deep depression which lasted for more than three years. The downward swing of my mood was paralyzing. I was unable to have a clear thought. I spent every day reading the same newspaper over and over again. My mother, always in denial, did little to help, and was probably battling her own demons.
A writer named Gloria Hochman (who wrote Patty Duke's account of her illness) convinced me to go for immediate help at any local hospital or clinic. I did. Months later, on medication and working with a mental health professional, I began to feel strong enough to think about working again. My portfolio was one of the few things I was able to salvage from my former life and I felt it was contemporary enough for me to compete for a position. Within a short period of time, I found a wonderful job as a designer at a very good salary. After sixth months at my new job, my mother became very ill and I began to spiral into a manic phase which I wasn't clear enough about to address. Her death and my mania were concurrent and it wasn't long before I was an involuntary patient in the psychiatric ward at Elmhurst Hospital. That period was followed by two additional hospitalizations, the last of which almost put me into a long term facility.
The Social Services "reward" after three consecutive hospitalizations, within a one year period, is an Intensive Case Manager (ICM). Lou Carvajal, my ICM who still visits with me each week, a family member whose very special, and friends took me from the possibility of living in an adult home to sharing a spacious, beautiful apartment.
The idea of starting my own business was a result of my inability to get a job as a designer, not because I was lacking in ability or experience. Not because I lacked the credentials, but because I was "over qualified." What that means in the real world "your too old to be looking for a job." Starting my own business would give me, at least, the possibility of a career. I knew it would be necessary to return to school, learn to use a computer, and find enough money for the necessary equipment. It was also time to apply to VESID.
It took more than a year before my request for equipment was approved by VESID. When my computer was delivered, I sat at the keyboard and monitor and explored every program that was available to me and preparing to go after some business.
I strongly encourage people with mental illness to pursue their dreams of living a productive life. A great deal of moral, emotional and even financial support is available through organizations such as VESID and, particularity, INCube, Inc. since it is a 100% consumer-run and the staff is able to consider your ideas and your limitations.
I've had a very turbulent life and would have preferred to read about most of the events than to have had the experience. Yet, I remain very optimistic about the future and watching the growth of my business. Being an entrepreneur is risky, but then...so is being alive.
While I was fortunate to have been diagnosed properly, my attention to my illness and my medication was short lived and resulted in a series of disasters. It's impossible for me to determine when my mania began, but I was certainly aware of my first depression...an event that altered my life shortly after the age of 29. The experience left me paralyzed. I was unable to cope with even the simple tasks of living. It took a long time for me to find out what was happening to me. During the months and months of not knowing, I spent most of my days in bed, unable to communicate with anyone.
Mental illness caused me to lose my husband, children, my upper east side apartment and its contents, and, eventually, found me living with my aging mother. Within days after arriving at her apartment in Queens, I was in a deep depression which lasted for more than three years. The downward swing of my mood was paralyzing. I was unable to have a clear thought. I spent every day reading the same newspaper over and over again. My mother, always in denial, did little to help, and was probably battling her own demons.
A writer named Gloria Hochman (who wrote Patty Duke's account of her illness) convinced me to go for immediate help at any local hospital or clinic. I did. Months later, on medication and working with a mental health professional, I began to feel strong enough to think about working again. My portfolio was one of the few things I was able to salvage from my former life and I felt it was contemporary enough for me to compete for a position. Within a short period of time, I found a wonderful job as a designer at a very good salary. After sixth months at my new job, my mother became very ill and I began to spiral into a manic phase which I wasn't clear enough about to address. Her death and my mania were concurrent and it wasn't long before I was an involuntary patient in the psychiatric ward at Elmhurst Hospital. That period was followed by two additional hospitalizations, the last of which almost put me into a long term facility.
The Social Services "reward" after three consecutive hospitalizations, within a one year period, is an Intensive Case Manager (ICM). Lou Carvajal, my ICM who still visits with me each week, a family member whose very special, and friends took me from the possibility of living in an adult home to sharing a spacious, beautiful apartment.
The idea of starting my own business was a result of my inability to get a job as a designer, not because I was lacking in ability or experience. Not because I lacked the credentials, but because I was "over qualified." What that means in the real world "your too old to be looking for a job." Starting my own business would give me, at least, the possibility of a career. I knew it would be necessary to return to school, learn to use a computer, and find enough money for the necessary equipment. It was also time to apply to VESID.
It took more than a year before my request for equipment was approved by VESID. When my computer was delivered, I sat at the keyboard and monitor and explored every program that was available to me and preparing to go after some business.
I strongly encourage people with mental illness to pursue their dreams of living a productive life. A great deal of moral, emotional and even financial support is available through organizations such as VESID and, particularity, INCube, Inc. since it is a 100% consumer-run and the staff is able to consider your ideas and your limitations.
I've had a very turbulent life and would have preferred to read about most of the events than to have had the experience. Yet, I remain very optimistic about the future and watching the growth of my business. Being an entrepreneur is risky, but then...so is being alive.
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