My Mental Health: I Am Sane; Even Doctors Say So
For any who have ever wondered (because I’ve been told privately that some have wondered or implied otherwise), I am sane.
I’ve divulged many personal things about myself on this blog and at other blogs, especially regarding my mental health, so I actually feel this is unnecessary, but I guess for some, they need to be told straight up.
I saw several different psychologists and psychiatrists from my teen years up to around my early or mid-30s.
I saw one therapist two or three times in my late 30s.
During that time, I had to take verbal and written tests from some of these various doctors.
As a teen, I recall having to sit in a psychiatrist’s back office by myself at a desk and spend about two hours answering page after page of a mental health test.
One therapist I saw even had me take a Rorschach test. I had to sit and look at around 25 or more white placards with black ink blot like designs on them and tell the doctor what those ink blots reminded me of.
From the time I was a teen, and a few times as an adult, when applying for employment, I’ve had to take personality and morality tests.
Even a dating site I once joined had me fill out about ten or more pages of questions to discern my personality type, outlook on life, and so on.
After all is said and done, I was, as I’ve already said on this blog and elsewhere, someone who had depression, social anxiety disorder, generalized anxiety disorder, and thanks to my mother, I was conditioned to be codependent from a young age (which led to low self esteem, and the depression was a by-product of the codependency as well).
The personality tests I had to take for employment and dating sites all said I am very introverted, great at following directions, an honest person, and some of them said I could stand to be a little more assertive. None of the tests indicated I am a kook, dishonest, or deceitful.
None of the doctors, or psychological tests I took, ever diagnosed me with anything other than clinical depression.
The doctors I saw agreed I had anxiety, when I broached that subject with them, and discussed my symptoms with them.
The only doctor-prescribed medications I ever took for mental health issues were for anxiety and depression. (I went off all medications years ago because they did not work and so were a waste of money.)
As part of the codependency conditioning I received from my mother from the time I was a kid (as I’ve written about at length in older posts on this blog), I was taught it would be wrong, mean, un-Christian-like or un-lady-like for me to publicly (or even within the family) express anger.
My Mom was fine and dandy with me crying in front of her in private, or expressing doubt, worry, or sadness. She was okay with me showing and having every human emotion under the sun except for anger.
(My dad was the complete opposite: he not only did not want me showing anger, but he raised me to think, act, and behave like a stereotypical man: I was taught it was shameful or wrong to express or show sadness, doubt, fear, or other such emotions, especially, God forbid, to other people.
I was raised by him to be tough and stoic, like John Wayne, the Terminator, and a Macho Man all rolled into one.)
In the years since Mom’s passing, I’ve come to realize that I have a right to have anger, feel anger, and show anger.
I no longer stuff my anger down and talk all sweet and nice to people if I am ticked off at them. I’m not going to tolerate condescending, rude, or trolling people, including ones who drop by this blog.
My main point with this entire post is to say that I am mentally normal.
The numerous psychologists and psychiatrists I saw over the years, some who gave me mental health tests, never, ever diagnosed me with bi-polar disorder, N.P.D., sociopathy, psychpathy, schizophrenia, or any other such conditions.
I don’t think I am Napoleon. I do not believe I am Jesus of Nazareth. I don’t hear God’s audible voice.
I don’t hear Satan telling me things or telling me to murder people.
I don’t wear tin foil hats thinking it will keep the U.S. government from hearing my thoughts. I don’t believe there are aliens on other planets.
I’ve never claimed to have been kidnapped by aliens, nor do I think I have.
So, I’m sane by most people’s criteria, and by the several psychologists and psychiatrists I’ve visited in the past.
Too bad I can’t say the same thing about some people who have questioned my sanity or state of mind or who have implied I’m Losing It, going nutty, or that I am a looney tune.