I Now Have Hope

My name is Jamie. I am 32 years old. I am a wife, mother, a peer counselor in the mental health field and a friend. I struggle with a mental illness. My struggles go back as far as I can remember. I can't remember a time where I ever really felt like I really fit in. I often felt ashamed of myself. My life has been full of great highs and devastating lows; full of moments of God's grace at church and things too painful to talk about.

My husband and I got married just out of high-school. He joined the military and I moved away from my close knit family at the age of 20. A year later I was pregnant and it was the happiest, joyous, time of my life. Then winter came. It was far from the cozy winters I experienced in sunny California. It would be negative 45 in North Dakota and I felt trapped in my house. I cried all day and night. I missed my family and God knew that I needed their support.

My husband worked long hours and I eventually lost all touch with reality. I believed there was an investigation to take away my son and that all of the neighbors were in on it including the FBI. I thought the neighbors had hired a private investigator. Everything was closing in around me and everyone was conspiring against me. I heard them saying things and then it would happen. They were listening to my calls and the police were following me. I felt like I was under a microscope.

My first hospital stay was in 2006. I was diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder and it seemed like I would never get better or recover. I felt like I was destined to a life of misery and failures and that I would be tormented all of my life with terrible thoughts and eventually become another statistic, lost to suicide. I felt so incredibly hopeless and just couldn't shake the feeling that I was losing my mind. It was years before I began to come out of the dark deep depression and psychosis; years before I didn't feel so alone in this world and that I was the only one suffering.

Things began to gradually get better as I began to accept the medication I had been prescribed. I was so sick out of my mind; I just couldn't see that they would be my ticket to getting better. We then got orders to move back to California and I felt like it was a divine intervention, telling me not to give up hope.

My first psychiatrist in California, I loved her. I saw her for 5 years. I began to trust her and I shared with her what was going on with me. She helped me with my disability case, as I was in no condition to work. I really opened up to her and began to share my fears. At first it made it worse, but I no longer felt so crippling alone. Off and on I would take my medication, but when she let me go due to what I believe was being non-compliant with treatment, I took this as a wakeup call.

I found a new doctor and I decided from the moment I walked in the building, I was going to take the medication as prescribed. I had lost someone I really cared for due to my non-compliance and I didn't want to lose anyone else, especially my son.

Since taking my medication regularly and using coping skills that I have developed, I have learned to face my fears. I used to hear voices and be crippled with social anxiety.  Now, I no longer attach fear to it. I no longer suffer with disturbing, constant racing thoughts. For me there is no denying that there is a God in my life.  All that I have come through, all that I have yet to do and the people along the way who have helped me, are a gift from God.

My mental health continues to improve as time goes by. I have more hope today than ever, a better diagnosis and a promising future. I am able to help others because of my lived experience as a peer counselor in the mental health field today. I thoroughly enjoy being a wife and a mother and all of the friendships I've made. I enjoy writing and photography and there is no greater joy that I have than when someone smiles at me and says "I now have hope."