The Faces Of: The Misunderstood
Stories and portraits of individuals who suffer from mental illnesses. It's okay to not be okay.
My name is Billy Joe McCann – I struggle with depression, generalized anxiety and suicidal ideation. I already feel like people reading this view me differently because of that first sentence and that's the very reason that I started this project. While I struggle with these issues, these issues don't define who I am. It took me a long time to figure that out.
I have days that none of these issues come up, but I also have days where I feel like I am weighed down. There are days where it feels like it takes all of my physical and mental strength to just get out of bed and get my day started. There are times when the thoughts come into my mind that tell me that people around me would be better off without me; that I am not good enough. I realize that these thoughts are absurd but that doesn't stop them from coming.
I hope through this project that others will see that mental illness doesn't have a “face” and that it's okay to not always be okay.
Through the help of close friends and family and ultimately the grace of God, I have seen major improvements in my day to day life. When these thoughts arise, I can extinguish them with the words from friends and most importantly, the Word of God. If it weren't for the Lord, I wouldn't be here typing this. I would be dead.
My name is Billy Joe and I am not defined by my struggles. I am a friend, a brother, a son, a nephew, a cousin, an uncle, and I am a child of the King.
I have days that none of these issues come up, but I also have days where I feel like I am weighed down. There are days where it feels like it takes all of my physical and mental strength to just get out of bed and get my day started. There are times when the thoughts come into my mind that tell me that people around me would be better off without me; that I am not good enough. I realize that these thoughts are absurd but that doesn't stop them from coming.
I hope through this project that others will see that mental illness doesn't have a “face” and that it's okay to not always be okay.
Through the help of close friends and family and ultimately the grace of God, I have seen major improvements in my day to day life. When these thoughts arise, I can extinguish them with the words from friends and most importantly, the Word of God. If it weren't for the Lord, I wouldn't be here typing this. I would be dead.
My name is Billy Joe and I am not defined by my struggles. I am a friend, a brother, a son, a nephew, a cousin, an uncle, and I am a child of the King.
I had never understood the struggle people have with mental illnesses, until my Emily came along. "Mom to be" women always have that vision of their child. Happy, toothless grins, lots of giggles while they roll around on the floor playing with their toes.
Emily wasn't like that. From the moment she was born she was a very sad baby. There were no giggles. Even a small smile was rare. There were no "grab the camera!" moments for her. We went from doctor to doctor trying to find answers, but there were none. As far as infant medical screening goes she was "great".
Days turned to weeks. Weeks to Months, months to years and before I knew it, my baby was going to be 3. All this time had been the same routine. Get up and pray for a good day. Make breakfast, change diapers, spend hours trying to make a connection with her. I would read stories, make silly faces, build block towers, the whole nine yards. There was no excitement in my babys eyes. Not a single spark of interest in anything I presented to her, or in me.
I was a failure as a mother. I didn't realize at the time that I had started slipping into depression. I can't even pinpoint when it started. It was like one day I woke up being tapped on the shoulder by an old acquaintance. Someone I knew, but forgot was there. Emily had reached the point where most of the crying had turned into actions. She would self harm, and was so destructive of anything she could get ahold of. There was no type of parenting I could do to get through to her. There was no behavior chart, praise, or discipline that phased her. Sitting did, but she would scream until she puked, and what good did that do anyone?
I remember laying on the bathroom floor. Hiding myself away just try cry and try to breathe it out. She needed me, and I couldn't help her. I remember praying to God for any kind of an affirmation he was even there. Since this time we have went to a specialist for Emily. They immediately diagnosed her with ADHD. There are other things that could be underlying but we won't know until she's older. I went to the family doctor who told me I have severe anxiety and depression. Neither of us are on medication. People are always shocked by this. After all I've went through dealing with this why would I ever want to deny medication? This is by my choice.
I have placed everything in Gods hands, and what wonders he has done with us. Things started clicking. We still have to handle things day to day. Some are good, and some are bad. We play now. There are smiles and laughter in our lives. We go out into public and do normal things ( at least for our family) Emily has proven to me that she HAS been taking in everything I've tried to show her for years! It just took us this long to be able to communicate.
Mental Illness does not define us. We are not "ADHD AND DEPRESSED". We are Emily and Shanda. We are daughter and mother, and we are part of a family. We are tied together in an unshakable bond, each of us depending on the other. I am not a failure as a mother. I am a mother who is learning how to be the best I can for my child with the cards we were dealt. Things always get better. We may not understand the reason God puts us here, but if you trust him, he is faithful to bring us through it.
Emily wasn't like that. From the moment she was born she was a very sad baby. There were no giggles. Even a small smile was rare. There were no "grab the camera!" moments for her. We went from doctor to doctor trying to find answers, but there were none. As far as infant medical screening goes she was "great".
Days turned to weeks. Weeks to Months, months to years and before I knew it, my baby was going to be 3. All this time had been the same routine. Get up and pray for a good day. Make breakfast, change diapers, spend hours trying to make a connection with her. I would read stories, make silly faces, build block towers, the whole nine yards. There was no excitement in my babys eyes. Not a single spark of interest in anything I presented to her, or in me.
I was a failure as a mother. I didn't realize at the time that I had started slipping into depression. I can't even pinpoint when it started. It was like one day I woke up being tapped on the shoulder by an old acquaintance. Someone I knew, but forgot was there. Emily had reached the point where most of the crying had turned into actions. She would self harm, and was so destructive of anything she could get ahold of. There was no type of parenting I could do to get through to her. There was no behavior chart, praise, or discipline that phased her. Sitting did, but she would scream until she puked, and what good did that do anyone?
I remember laying on the bathroom floor. Hiding myself away just try cry and try to breathe it out. She needed me, and I couldn't help her. I remember praying to God for any kind of an affirmation he was even there. Since this time we have went to a specialist for Emily. They immediately diagnosed her with ADHD. There are other things that could be underlying but we won't know until she's older. I went to the family doctor who told me I have severe anxiety and depression. Neither of us are on medication. People are always shocked by this. After all I've went through dealing with this why would I ever want to deny medication? This is by my choice.
I have placed everything in Gods hands, and what wonders he has done with us. Things started clicking. We still have to handle things day to day. Some are good, and some are bad. We play now. There are smiles and laughter in our lives. We go out into public and do normal things ( at least for our family) Emily has proven to me that she HAS been taking in everything I've tried to show her for years! It just took us this long to be able to communicate.
Mental Illness does not define us. We are not "ADHD AND DEPRESSED". We are Emily and Shanda. We are daughter and mother, and we are part of a family. We are tied together in an unshakable bond, each of us depending on the other. I am not a failure as a mother. I am a mother who is learning how to be the best I can for my child with the cards we were dealt. Things always get better. We may not understand the reason God puts us here, but if you trust him, he is faithful to bring us through it.
My name is Ashira. I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety in 2014. Over the last few years, I had learned how to cope, but not in the healthiest of ways. I refused to take medication and I became alcohol dependent. It masked the shitty feeling I had every day. After having my son, I suffered from postpartum depression and would have thoughts that I would be better off dead. I felt like a burden and I felt that my husband and son would be better off without me.
Last month I was diagnosed with anxiety and manic depression. I have suicidal thoughts often, but I do not act on them; I do not self harm and I do not want to die, although my subconscious and my illness may disagree. Some days are worse than others, but when I look at my son, I know that I am here for a reason.
I always felt that asking for help meant you were weak, but in all actuality, it makes you strong. For my son and the sake of my family, I have seeked help. I have also given up alcohol and have finally agreed to take medication. My mental illnesses do not define me. I am a wife, a daughter, Soldier, sister, aunt, and friend, but most importantly, I am a MOTHER. My son needs me more than anything right now.
Last month I was diagnosed with anxiety and manic depression. I have suicidal thoughts often, but I do not act on them; I do not self harm and I do not want to die, although my subconscious and my illness may disagree. Some days are worse than others, but when I look at my son, I know that I am here for a reason.
I always felt that asking for help meant you were weak, but in all actuality, it makes you strong. For my son and the sake of my family, I have seeked help. I have also given up alcohol and have finally agreed to take medication. My mental illnesses do not define me. I am a wife, a daughter, Soldier, sister, aunt, and friend, but most importantly, I am a MOTHER. My son needs me more than anything right now.