Elizabeth’s Story
Life was wonderful – I was 25, I had a flat and a great boyfriend. I loved where I was working, the craic was great! I had just got promoted and was learning a new job when unusual thoughts and feelings started to happen.
To cut a long story short, a psychiatrist diagnosed me with schizophrenia. Well the bottom fell out of my world. ‘Mental illness’. God. A death sentence, because it’s just not accepted in society. How could I cope? The only way was to be secretive. ‘Don’t tell anyone’. ‘Hide it and gloss over it’. I was sad for a long time living with ‘that’ diagnosis. I lost my boyfriend.
Like diabetes or arthritis my condition is treatable with medication, but unfortunately has a terrible public perception. I picked up the pieces of my life, but because of the stigma attached to mental illness I felt unable to inform work colleagues and friends. I was afraid of their reactions and I also had to come to terms with this illness myself. My employer at the time showed little or no understanding of mental health issues and was unable to adequately support me in my job. I felt I was left to deal with my mental illness on my own, while expected to just get on and do the job. In the end I decided to take an ill-health package.
My mam and dad helped so much and got me on the road to recovery. 12 years on, I’m married and content. I work voluntarily with Rethink and I hope one day to regain part-time employment. My mental condition is no longer the problem for me. It is others’ perceptions of me that’s the difficulty. Without knowing it, or even meaning to, it is the general public’s perception of my condition which is what really causes me pain and embarrassment.
To cut a long story short, a psychiatrist diagnosed me with schizophrenia. Well the bottom fell out of my world. ‘Mental illness’. God. A death sentence, because it’s just not accepted in society. How could I cope? The only way was to be secretive. ‘Don’t tell anyone’. ‘Hide it and gloss over it’. I was sad for a long time living with ‘that’ diagnosis. I lost my boyfriend.
Like diabetes or arthritis my condition is treatable with medication, but unfortunately has a terrible public perception. I picked up the pieces of my life, but because of the stigma attached to mental illness I felt unable to inform work colleagues and friends. I was afraid of their reactions and I also had to come to terms with this illness myself. My employer at the time showed little or no understanding of mental health issues and was unable to adequately support me in my job. I felt I was left to deal with my mental illness on my own, while expected to just get on and do the job. In the end I decided to take an ill-health package.
My mam and dad helped so much and got me on the road to recovery. 12 years on, I’m married and content. I work voluntarily with Rethink and I hope one day to regain part-time employment. My mental condition is no longer the problem for me. It is others’ perceptions of me that’s the difficulty. Without knowing it, or even meaning to, it is the general public’s perception of my condition which is what really causes me pain and embarrassment.
