Stress: The Voices of My Youth

People pass me by, and all these people have had their own personal struggles. I have had plenty of personal struggles myself with many of them happening at a significant period of my life. I finished 6th grade, and I was so excited for the next step of my journey which was 7th grade. However, the road from the end of 6th grade to the beginning of the next grade was paved with thorns. Not physical thorns, but more like weaving invisible thorns that went inside my brain to puncture my mental state. Not all struggles that people face are similar, and many of those people tend to hide their struggles due to others not understanding. People not understanding situations can bring fear as history has shown repeatedly.

Throughout humanity’s often bloody and barbaric history, people with mental illnesses were treated terribly. Such people were locked up in an asylum with terrible conditions. Bloodletting, putting patients into a low sugar coma on purpose, inducing seizures, lobotomy, and more vile practices have been used against the mentally disabled community. While these insane practices are not used today, there is and likely will always be a stigma against mental illness. It is often not easy for those with mental illness to disclose their disability to others due to fear of mockery and mistreatment.

I, like many others, had the phobia of letting people know of my mental diagnoses. Again, thinking back to that dreadful 6th grade summer, I began to hear two male teenage voices talking to me. They each had their own distinctive voices, but they were both pure evil with the intention of making me paranoid. Time continued to pass, and I was no longer able to conceal from others what was going on with me. It was somewhat of a relief that other people were able to know what was wrong with me. It was like I was halfway released from my mental prison with invisible thorns somewhat losing their hold on me.

Shortly after the thorns began to unravel, I began to hear voices of my family along with the two male teenage voices. It constantly sounded like my family, along with the two teenage thugs, were plotting against me and were ridiculing me. My mother took me to a psychiatrist and that psychiatrist had me sent to a mental health facility in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. I had my own room and bathroom at that facility during my stay for half of my 6th grade summer. My progress was slow, and the staff kept on trying various types of medicine to stop the voices. The medication made it worse, but it felt like the voices were having a stronger internal fight in my head to stay with me. The voices would just not go away. My mother would often drive from Sioux City, Iowa to visit me and I felt sad whenever she had to leave without me. Not only were the voices getting worse, but I did not get along with any of the other patients and staff. I felt constant fear during my stay there because I often thought that the staff, along with the security there, were out to get me. At one point, I thought that I needed to end it and that meant ending my life. I filled the sink up partway and put my head in there enough to cover my mouth. I luckily decided to stop myself.

Due to nothing working, I was sent to a mental facility in Cherokee, Iowa. It was more of the same compared to the Sioux Falls facility. At this point, my now long-time friend and autism specialist visited me at times. I first met her when she helped me in 6th grade, and we are still friends today. My mother would often visit me as well. As time progressed, the invisible thorns began to unravel even more.

I had an experience while sitting up in bed at night in Cherokee, and I am not sure if it was a spiritual experience. I gave up religion long ago although I think there is some form of afterlife, but that it possibly has nothing to do with God. I do not know what came over me, but I started thinking about going to church with my grandma. At that point, I had not been to church in several years. I thought about it, and for a reason that is still unclear to me, I put my hands together and prayed that I would be free from the mental facility. I felt an odd sensation, as if something struck me on the inside and made me shiver.

As even more time progressed, I heard no voices. The director and a doctor visited my room at the Cherokee facility to see how I was feeling. I relayed to them that I felt normal and that I did not hear voices anymore. I was finally sent home to my mother’s house in Sioux City. There were a couple weeks until I would start 7th grade, so I was instructed to complete extra schoolwork to clear my mind until the next grade started. 7th grade went smoothly for the most part, and the voices never came back.

I currently have a diagnosis of Asperger’s Syndrome which is part of the autism spectrum. I also have depression and anxiety that I take medication for. My depression medication also stops there ever being a chance for the voices to come back. I interact with my struggles by not hiding anything. My employer knows that I have autism and I am willing to let anyone know if they wonder about it. My experience in the past has made me a stronger person and I will always try my best to succeed. If someone makes fun of me for having autism, it is completely on that person and not on me. People who act like that show their true nature and they should be ashamed of themselves.

I have always felt strongly about the struggles of others, but I have felt even more strongly about those struggles since then. It was a very dark time for me, and I got through it. Not all struggles are the same, but I am hoping that more and more people do not give up on themselves. Hopefully the stigma against mental health disappears, and soon.