Greetings! If you have found this page, congrats! You will be privy to my ideas and musings regarding the mental health field. What authority do I have? Well, I am *simply* a peer. What is a peer? A person who *simply* has personal experience dealing with mental illness. Yes, I have a diagnosis. Yes, I have suffered for over twenty years. I like to say that, while my psychiatrist has an MD, I have a PhD in "insanity." College? The University of Neesa Sunar. Dean? Me. Valedictorian? Me. Last in class? Me. Student population? 1 person and 40,000 people all at once. The triune God of the Bible ain't got nothing on me.
I will introduce the logistics of myself briefly:
Name: Neesa Sunar.
Age: 28
Credentials for writing this blog: 1) Mental health services recipient for 20+ years (as earlier stated). 2) Recently trained as a "peer specialist" by Howie the Harp Peer Advocacy Center, and now embarking on the career path of "peer."
Did I say briefly? Read on if you long for something more verbose:
I have an extensive background as a classical musician. Specifically, the viola. I studied viola at the undergraduate level at Indiana University, whereupon I was awarded a Bachelors of Music in viola performance after coasting for four years. Coasting, meaning I played Sudoku during lectures, procrastinated assignments and practiced viola as little as possible, while attending less than ten parties over the course of my entire degree. I started a graduate degree directly afterwards, also at IU, when psychosis slapped me in the face. I realized that my "dream" of becoming a "rock star violist" was not really something I wanted. Forced to return to my native home of "terrible" Bayside, NY (located in that "terrible" borough of Queens), I discovered that the grit and hatred endemic to everything New York was endemic to me too. I, Neesa Sunar, hated smiles. Hated hugs. Hated happy couples. Hated the "happily ever after" that followed satisfying marriage ceremonies. But I certainly loved the subway. Comfortable place to sleep, don't you know. Cradles me as well as my mother's uterus once did.
Yes. I struggled to make use of my musical talent by teaching private lessons to children for three and a half years. I attended a K-12 New York state music teacher certification program at Queens College, while simultaneously teaching near-full-time at a private school in Brooklyn. Again, the stinging slap of psychosis across my face. All fell to pieces like Humpty Dumpty, and I became disabled once again. Ups and downs, but all under the bar of "acceptable behavior."
Much has happened since, which I care not to disclose at this moment. The sheer joy of this blog will be the gradual unraveling of my past. The fact that you DON'T know me is exciting. I can present my life as a soap opera that serves to cleanse its readers, much like soap in a shower. Do know that I currently am using a lemony bar of hand-crafted soap that I purchased in Woodstock in the summer of 2009. A bit stale, but still fulfillingly pungent and luxurious.
I name this blog "Let Them Take Pills," which is a play on the Marie Antoinette's statement, "Let Them Eat Cake." Whether or not she even uttered this statement is questionable. But no matter. The context is such: people were starving, and her answer was that they should eat "cake," something they could not afford. Hence: "Let them take pills." We suffer from ill mental health, and we are given pills. Pills, manufactured by pharmaceutical companies, exorbitantly expensive, and filled with ingredients as determined by super intelligent people with degrees and dexterous tongues, all flexible enough to pronounce jumbles of freshly-invented ten-syllable words. I take my pills, yet I have no understanding of how they work.
This being said, my pills are my lifeline. Years of experience with and without medications has shown me my comforts and my limits. And ultimately, I have learned the following lesson: the foundation of my wellness is indeed my medication. Without my medication, I am unable to reach for any degree of wellness at all. A few painful experiences show me that, without medicine, I am unable to control my racing thoughts. These thoughts issue commands, which are as forceful as the electric finger of God. I am unable to rest from obsession. My mind races a million miles a minute. My mind cannibalizes itself, leaving me incredibly exhausted at all times. Medication relieves this terrible state of being. I am grateful for this miracle in my life. At the same time, pills alone are not enough. I have had wonderful success in my recovery due to the caring friends and family in my life, as well as the ingenious Long Island Jewish hospital system in Queens, New York. In particular, I thank Zucker Hillside Hospital to my rehabilitation. Also a part of LIJ, ZHH is an entire hospital campus dedicated to mental health, as well as a center for research in schizophrenia. It was here that I was put on Clozapine. It was here that I learned vital techniques of CBT, Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. It was here that I participated in a weight management group that helped me on my path of weight loss. (Weight, that was gained from medication.) It was here that I developed the confidence to know that I am not doomed to the life of collecting an SSI check.
My story is long, and definitely not boring. But all in good time. At this point, I would like to communicate that this blog is a voice. My voice. And I do believe that my voice is different from all other voices. How so? Let me list the ways:
- I am an eloquent person that strives for a sense of classicism in communication. Complete sentences, comprised of words spelled correctly. A literary flow in all that is described, with an attempt to be both cruelly acerbic and kindly soothing all at the same time. If you are curious of the influence of my writing style, you may thank W. S. Gilbert, the librettist of such Victorian gems as the Pirates of Penzance and HMS Pinafore.
- My particular tastes are different from most others'. For example, I was unable to discern the difference between Billy Joel and the Beatles until about the age of 23. As a child engrossed in the arduous task of learning the violin, I decried the satanic evils of non-classical music from the tender age of six. Songs with few chord changes and monophonic musical textures were considered brain candy, and the reason for a dull mind. I could never discern a single lyric over the cacophony of drum sets and electronic bleeps that strove to insult the brilliance of contrapuntal genius from centuries before. Elitist, you say? Yes. Just like books are elitist. Oh really? Yes. Books are elitist, because you have to know how to read in order to enjoy them.
- I have achieved superior mental health and health in general. I daresay that I have achieved a higher degree of wellness than most "mentally well" people. Despite my diagnosis, I have managed to lose over 75 pounds of weight gained due to medication. I continue to eat a diet of absolutely no candy or bread or grains, and I count the calories of everything I eat, every single day. I exercise, and love doing so. I dress fashionably, and fancy myself attractive. I am surrounded by a thick network of close friends. I have a gem of a mother, who has sacrificed everything in her life to ensure that I have had the best of opportunities to develop my skills and education, as well as have the freedom to express myself as I wished. She offers me shelter and love, and I am indebted to her forever. How many people can say that they have achieved all of this?
And finally:
- I am exceedingly intelligent. And creative. And ambitious. With these qualities combined, I am an opinionated person who strives to poke the issues at angles never before attempted. I strive to kick "opinionated giants" in the backs of their knees, crippling their arguments to the ground. And I am fearless. I am not afraid to criticize the medical model for forcing pills on unwilling patients. And I am not afraid to criticize the peer movement for minimizing the benefits of medication. I strive to look at both sides of the coin at the same time. Impossible, you say? I beg to differ. 1) Insanity makes anything possible. 2) If you lay the spine of a coin vertically along the bridge of your nose, you will see both sides, one by each eye. Of course, you would look like a cross-eyed fool, but many brilliants looked foolish in their beginnings. Dare to be one yourself.
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Aside from blogging on issues related to mental illness, I will also share the occasional poem or creative work. I believe that my poetry carries an innate spirit of mental health awareness. I am sure it will please. Thank you for your attention, and adieu. For today.
~Neesa
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