I grew up in a family that believes what your father believes. They think that mental problems are something you can overcome if you just set your mind to it. I grew up thinking that way, and when I got diagnosed with bipolar, I still thought that way. I blamed myself for being seemingly unable to get better. I thought it was because, deep down, I didn’t really want to get better.
My wife and my psychiatrist both assured me that there was an organic problem. My brain chemistry wasn’t working very well, and that I really didn’t have to blame myself for being depressed. My shrink prescribed drugs, and as I got better, without ever changing my thoughts, I came to believe it is true. It is organic. It’s not something I made happen. It doesn’t mean that I’m lazy or incompetent if I can’t handle it all on my own.
And yet, my wife had never felt depression. I told her over and over again what it was like, and she still didn’t get it. I understand. I didn’t get it either, until I had it. It is impossible to imagine not having control over your thoughts, unless it happens to you.
People think of their thoughts as volitional. We make up our own thoughts. If we don’t, then who are we? Are we really human? Does being human mean anything if we can’t make up our own thoughts?
Since we experience thinking that way, it can be very difficult to come to grips with the idea that chemicals make you think what you think. It’s not volitional, at least, not completely. Chemicals program our behavior to some, perhaps a large degree. I never would have believed it if I hadn’t experienced my mind changing what it could think under the influence of medicines. It wasn’t just emotions that changed, it was the thoughts I thunk.
There is evidence that brings up the possibility that all mental disorders are related to each other. There’s one (out of 26) alleles that all the disorders share. It’s not clear what this means, yet, but it does raise interesting questions. In any case, we now know that mental disorders all have a genetic component. That, in combination with environmental stresses, can bring on the disorder.
We also know that it is possible to change the way the chemicals work in your brain, just by thinking. It works both ways. Chemicals change your thoughts, but thoughts can also change your chemicals. It is possible for people to cope with mental disease on their own. Very difficult in many cases, but possible.
If it’s genetic, then your mother or your father may have experienced similar symptoms. Or they may have had another mental disorder. Perhaps your father has something he was able to fight on his own. Maybe your mother has (had) something, and your father got mad at her for giving into it, or she was able to fight it, eventually. Or maybe she went to a psychiatrist, and, from his perspective, it seemed like all she got was a paid friend.
I thought that therapists were paid friends. Now I see they are like teachers. There are mental techniques you can learn that will help you cope. Perhaps if you explain it to him that it is not a friend you want, but someone who can teach you techniques to cope. If that fails, at the very least, you can probably get him to spring for a book or two that offer techniques for coping with OCD. Of course, if you’ve never been diagnosed, you may have something other than, or more complicated than OCD. Seeing a doctor (not necessarily a psychiatrist) helps. It can also be more convincing to people who don’t understand if the doctor prescribes the meds. Then it seems more physical.
When I try to describe my feelings, I try not to express it as emotional feelings, but as physical events. When I first started getting symptoms, my chest started feeling as if there was a weight on it. It was quite physical. I also felt jumpy and nervous, as if something bad was about to happen, even though there was no reason to think that. The doctor interpreted this as anxiety.
Depression felt like there was a heavy fog all around me. My mood was bleak, of course. I felt like I was living a few feet under water. I was just floating there, unable to get close to the surface. After I got my first meds, I moved up a few feet, but still not close to the surface. My second med moved me up to within a few inches of the surface. Finally, when my third med was added, I got to the surface, where I have remained.
OCD has physical activities, too. Let’s say you must wash your hands over and over. You spend half an hour washing them every time you go to the bathroom. Your hands grow chapped and red from this. Do you want this to happen? Of course not. But you honestly can’t control it. If feels like you’re some kind of puppet being manipulated from the outside. Or whatever it feels like (I’m not OCD, so I can only imagine). You have no choice. You know it’s unnecessary, but if you don’t do it, you simply can’t think about anything else.
If you make these things as real as possible, then perhaps your father can start to feel some empathy for what it is like. If you show him books and articles about it, he might come to believe the science of it. Education is the only weapon you have in combating ignorance. When you are under the control of a parent, you have no choice but to try to get them to understand that it is real, not made up.
You are, however, of an age to control your own medical future. You can check yourself into a hospital, I believe, without your father’s consent. Then the insurance has to pay for it, if you get the diagnosis. Of course, he can’t see your medical records unless you choose to show them to him. You may not want to. However, you can bring him to meetings with your doctors, if he’s willing to go.
Also, if worst comes to worst, there is a network of people out there who will share their meds. Why, I have some clonazepam lying around that I haven’t used, and have no plans to use. ;-) (that’s a joke, btw—I would never take someone else’s meds unless I knew and trusted them very, very well)
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