Hey guys! So I read a paper written by a former student of my writing teacher. I thought it was so amazing and powerful! It was a great perspective for me since I was diagnosed when I was younger. Her essay is a great example of over coming this trial. It shows everything that I hope to convey on this blog. She told me that I could share it with you all. I hope you guys like it as much as I do:

Of Love

        My dad is a good person. A round face and a little bit of a beer belly, with a laugh that rises above all the others—he is the kind of man you instantly trust and like. One of my favorite memories of him was when we were at the Salt Lake Airport. My family was next in line to check in our luggage. A man at the desk right in front of us was arguing, his voice growing louder and louder. I was young enough to marvel at his foreign, lilting, rich accent, but not too young to only hear music in his words. I listened for a minute and came to the conclusion that the man didn’t have enough money for something and was going to miss his flight. He sounded desperate and angry and scared and confused and stressed; though my young and focused mind didn’t understand how you could possibly feel all those things at the same time. My dad did. He stepped forward and asked what the matter was. The man and woman working at the desk jointly explained that the man had luggage that was heavy enough to call for an extra fee of two hundred dollars. But the man couldn’t afford it because he had spent all his extra money on the flight back to Kenya and his family, which he was about to miss. My dad simply said, “I’ll pay for it.”

December 14th, 2011
        Today, my life changed. And not in a good way. My dad texted me during second period: call me ASAP, we need to talk about some important stuff. So at lunch, I called him and he said he and mom were coming to pick me up. I thought he was joking and they were surprising me with my sister coming home from college. But instead, I got in the car and my dad told me that he’d gotten arrested for a DUI the night before. He and mom told me that alcoholism was very dominant in his family, mainly because of the depression from my grandma’s side. He’s been drinking on and off for a long time. I was just numb all day... I didn’t want to stay home, so I went back to school. The worst was trying to act like everything was normal. It wasn’t.

        Back at Eagle High School, people stared. I can only imagine what I looked like: red splotches on my cheeks, smeared makeup, tears still cascading down my face. Normally I would be mortified if people saw me like that. I don’t cry in front of other people. So many thoughts, questions, feelings that could take over: anger, betrayal, hurt, disgust and shame, sorrow and hopelessness. There were too many emotions. I was empty.

April 2nd, 2012
        My dad is back from his rehabilitation center. It was weird living at home with just mom and me while he was gone. In the car on the way to Washington for a college visit trip, my dad and I talked about the possibility of me having depression. So today, my dad took me in to see his psychiatrist. I took a survey and then Dr. Hoopes asked me a lot of questions about my life and emotions. Afterward, he diagnosed me with bipolar disorder, with a tendency towards depression. It came as kind of a shock. I was expecting and ready for depression, but bipolar disorder is a completely different thing. I don’t like thinking about it too much, because the word bipolar makes me think of crazy people.

         Bipolar disorder. It didn’t make sense. I’m just a normal person. This isn’t normal. I panicked, deliberating what I would tell my friends. Assuming that they would still be my friends after I told them. The word “bipolar” never has positive connotations—it sounds like a teenage girl on steroids.
A list wrapped around a small orange bottle: nausea, dizziness, fatigue. The plastic was slippery in my hand; my hands were sweating.

        Walking out of the pharmacy, my white paper bag was the most ostentatious grocery in the world. It’s crumpling and crunching noises were louder than the beeping of scanners; the

squeaky wheels of shopping carts; the cries of impatient children. It was a miracle that the whole store wasn’t staring. Even the parking lot looked different with this item in my hand. How many times had I come to this very store to buy milk? Or pencils and notebooks for the upcoming school year? A beep alerted me to a new text. I laughed out loud, without humor: my friends were buying prom dresses; I was buying mood stabilizers.

       My dad should be here, supporting me, I remember thinking. He should be paying for my prescription. All of a sudden, my wandering mind was filled with surprising but not unfamiliar anger. Why couldn’t my dad just be like other dads? I couldn’t relate to my friends talking about their fathers leading family activities, or even to my own siblings talking about Dad baptizing them. I love my dad, so much, but I had to remember having respect for him as a father figure. Remember a conversation that didn’t feel forced. I couldn’t understand or relate to this new man; he wasn’t the father of my childhood. The man who sat at a bar wasn’t the father who took us to ice cream for dinner, if we promised we wouldn’t tell Mom. Sometimes having to remember isn’t a good thing. Sometimes it means whatever it is, it’s long past.

       After a while, things got better. When I looked at what my dad did, I didn’t feel as much anger or depression. I prayed about it a lot, and realized that if I didn’t forgive my father, then I didn’t deserve God’s forgiveness. I couldn’t take advantage of the Atonement if I had anger in my heart. I also had a lot of resentment against Heavenly Father for giving me these combined trials. I knew that He gave trials to help us grow, but a mental disorder? Especially on top of the damage my dad had done, that I had only just begun to deal with. How could that possibly help me to grow? But it has. Going through all this pain gave me a lot of empathy. I was able to better relate to others and help comfort them when they were going through trials. This gave me an insight into the Atonement—a small one, but an insight nonetheless.

       And I slowly, but eventually, came to the realization that I am a child of God. They could teach me this in primary all they wanted, but it didn’t matter until I actually came to the comprehension myself. Strange how I arrived at this recognition in the depths of my despair. But at the same time, it isn’t strange at all. If I didn’t know I had a divine father who loves me more than anyone else in the world does, how would I ever have climbed out of that despair?

August 23rd, 2013
        Tonight I had an epiphany. I was thinking about how I know my dad is a really good person and has a great heart, but that he is the person that tests my faith the most. It makes me wonder what it’s like to have a dad who really and truly supports you in the gospel. And then I realized, I do have a father who supports me in the gospel: Heavenly Father. While my earthly father might question or attack my testimony, my Heavenly Father will always build mine up, I just have to turn to Him.

       I had always struggled with this idea, especially after the trials I was given: If I wasn’t even worthy of my own father’s love, why would I be worthy of Heavenly Father’s love? I always knew that God existed and understood that in a general sense, humans are his children. What I didn’t know or understand was that I am his child. He loves me. He will never abandon me or let me down. He taught me that I didn’t receive these trials because I wasn’t worthy of being loved, or because I had sinned. I wasn’t an anomaly with a messed up brain. All these understandings raised me out of my hopelessness, and even past the point I had been at before. I still struggle with these trials, but at a certain point, I comprehended the love Heavenly Father has for me—as much as I can as a human being—and knew I needed to share that love with others. I know that no one is perfect. Heavenly Father knows this too, and that’s why He gave us the Atonement. “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” This is a love that only a father can have for his children. This is a love that says, “I’ll pay for it.” 

Having Bipolar Doesn't Make a Difference

Crazy, insane, unstable, and irrational: words people say when they talk about mental illness. This is definitely not bipolar. Bipolar disorder or manic-depressive disorder is a mood disorder in which sufferers go through alternating cycles of depression and hypomania, which can be stabilized by medication. The ignorance and lack of understanding of the majority in the population leads to inequality towards people with bipolar disorder. Individuals should support their communities to educate members about bipolar disorder and other mental illnesses to promote understanding, empathy, and support for those who suffer from these disorders.

The media tends to only cover stories about those with bipolar who act “crazy”. Bipolar is the mental illness that media targets as unstable and irrational. For example, a man and his wife had a loud argument while disembarking a plane at the airport. His wife told others surrounding them that he had bipolar disorder and he did not take his medicine.  As he boarded his connecting flight, he claimed that he packed a bomb in his backpack. The Air Marshals soon arrived. The Marshals shot and killed the man, though a bomb was not found. What really mattered is this man was not taking his medication and was unstable; not that he had bipolar. This perception of people with bipolar leads to mistreatment and inequality.

In contrast, the media fails to tell that history contains so many successful and influential people who have had bipolar disorder. These people are praised for their great works but no one pointed out that they had bipolar. If this game changing information of these influential persons’ stories came up, the perception of all people with bipolar would transform. Some of these people include Robin Williams, Abraham Lincoln, Isaac Newton, Mozart, and countless other amazing people whose achievements changed the world. More stories about successful and significant people with bipolar should be shared to educate the world about bipolar disorder in order to help eliminate inequality.

One big act of inequality toward my mental illness occurred when I went to renew my driver’s license. In filling out an information sheet, I was to check if I was diagnosed with a mental illness. When the worker saw I answered yes to the question, my mother was required to come and sign a sheet. After my mother arrived I was also informed that I was required to take an additional driving test. After we questioned why, the worker reasoned insensitively that I could go crazy while driving. In that case he would not want me to try to run him down on his motorcycle. He was sadly misinformed about bipolar. If medicated and treated, those with bipolar can live normal, stable, and happy lives, which I currently uphold. Another driving test would not prove anything about my ability to drive in accordance with my illness. Due to the severe ignorance and insensitivity we fought for training of the offices. All North Texas DPS offices received sensitivity training that summer. This education will hopefully prevent discrimination towards others with mental illnesses.

If the world saw that bipolar does not make people act differently, this absence of equality would disappear. There is a vast difference between having bipolar and not taking medication. This inequality must stop. Encouraging communities to educate their members about mental illness will stop the inequality towards all people with mental illnesses.

The Problem With How we Treat Bipolar Disorder

Hello everyone! I read this article and loved what it said about how we treat this illness. I think in our world today we expect and want immediate results. This is not what we will receive, and the result is the exact opposite. It is not as a easy as taking a pill or two and the issue goes away. Getting healthy takes time and much effort. We have to take time and work on ourselves. You have to get help from other people. It is just like running. If you haven't run in a long time, you can't just run a marathon the day you start to run again. You have to train yourself to get into shape, then you can run the marathon. If you are struggling with this issue know that it won't get better immediately, but it will get better after time. In my life it took over 15 years. I can testify that taking the right medicine and accepting the right help makes all of the difference. If you work hard and are willing to make a change life will be amazing! You can do it!

http://www.nytimes.com/2013/04/28/magazine/the-problem-with-how-we-treat-bipolar-disorder.html?pagewanted=1&_r=1&

It Will be Worth It

Beginnings are Hard:
When I was younger (by younger I mean until I was twelve or so) there were many times when I was in church that my parents would take me outside to run laps around the church, so I could get all my energy out. I couldn't understand why I wasn't able to sit still and listen, while my peers could. I always struggled in focusing in school and the teachers would put me in a desk, at the front, by myself. I felt like I was singled out for something that I could not control.

I am Different:
When I started middle school, I had to leave class a lot because I would get so worked up over small things. I realized that there was something wrong with me sometimes and other times I could not tell what my parents were making a big fuss about. I had stopped taking my medicine and that is where my problems began. I felt so depressed and my moods were so off. Most of the time I felt that there was nothing that could make the pain go away. I felt so alienated from the world.

The Jump Start:
Right at the end of my eighth grade year I finally got the help that I needed. I definitely resisted at first, but it was the jump start that I needed to realize that I could do something better and feel something better in my life. It was a very bumpy road and it is in no way easy, but I have made life meaningful.

One of my favorite quotes is: "I didn't say that it would be easy. I said it would be worth it."

Lessons Learned:
I am a firm believer in this. The road that I have been on and the struggles that I have been through have in no way been easy, but I know that it is all worth it! And I know that it is true for anyone going through any kind of struggle. It is not going to be easy but IT WILL BE WORTH IT!

Waste Land

Hey guys! So this post does not pertain to my blog topic but I wanted to share my thoughts on a movie I watched:
I watched the movie Waste Land. The Documentary is about the garbage pickers in Rio De Janerio. An artist, Vik Muniz, goes there to depict the lives of some of the picker's lives into art. It showed me an amazing perspective on life. I was amazed by the people in this documentary. It was great that the artists could make something so beautiful out of something that we all think is ugly. The lives and living conditions of these people made me extremely grateful for what I have been blessed with. It also struck me how with a little bit of motivation in there lives and with some help from the artist they could begin to turn their lives into so much more. I think that is an important lesson to all of us. The little help and motivation that we give to others can really make a difference in the lives of others. I know it has in mine and I know it can in so many other's. I hope that I can do something little to make a big difference and I hope that you all can do that too! If you want to watch the movie it is on Netflix and I am sure you can check it out from the nearest library. You can also read about the movie at http://www.wastelandmovie.com.  Let me know what you guys thought of the movie too!