Ms. Tanya Brown's Address to the Sixth World Conference

My Story

I would like to share a story with you. A story, that I hope, will inspire you and offer you a new perspective of mental health issues and concerns.

I am the baby of four girls and wanted to be like my sisters; the supermodel, the famous wife, and the valedictorian. I wanted to be like everyone else instead of just honoring and embracing my own uniqueness, skills, talents and abilities. I did not follow my own life’s compass, but rather others. When I was in high school, I was always the person that everyone wanted to be around. My joy was contagious people would tell me. I did not have the face of a depressed child.

During these informative high school years, I lost 8 friends from drunk-driving, ski bus accidents and other means. I thought I coped with their deaths, eventually time would prove me wrong. At that age, a friend died, you bury them, you go to school the next day and you go on. Little did I know this neglectful outlook would catch up with me.

That was not the end of losses for me. Two years out of high school my best friend was killed by a hit and run. I lied to her the night before she died and as a result became overridden with guilt and depression. This was my first bout of depression. This time, it was visibly evident that I was significantly depressed. This period lasted for 2 years. Nothing would get me out of the despair. My mother would post positive affirmations everywhere she knew I would look; Notes to tell me that I am loved; I am beautiful; I am special; I am unique, just to name a few. Still nothing, NOTHING could get me out of this despair.

Until one day, I discovered…FOOD! What was once the inability to eat because of my friend’s losses had turned into an overeating disorder. My happy face came back on. I began to hide behind my food. I hid my food like an alcoholic hides their alcohol; in coat pockets, under the bed, under the car seat and even litter to get rid of any evidence. I would eat more than one breakfast, one lunch and one dinner. No one knew about my addiction until my mom cleaned under my bed and found wrappers, dishes and empty boxes of food. It became clear that I had an over eating disorder. I recall my mom speaking of her wishes to have me stop eating and not let myself go. I recall my dad cupping my face in his hands saying, “Why are you letting yourself go? You are such a beautiful girl.” What people did not understand is that food was my grieving outlet that gave me the comfort I needed to stay above water. And it seemed to have been working, for a while.

I was still depressed. Not visibly, but I knew I was not happy. In other words, people do not recall any moments that I was depressed. I usually had the happy face on for everyone to see. What was different now is that not only was I depressed because of my losses, but now I was gaining a ton of weight. My maximum weight was 195lbs. I went to my doctor to get on “prescribed” speed, tried every weight loss diet under the sky. Nothing worked. I still ate and continued to eat too much. Yet, at this point, Tanya was the happy Tanya. I put a lot of unnecessary pressure on myself to be thin. The more I fought the more I gained. The overeating and lack of self love continued to spiral. Yet, no one really knew what was churning inside of me. I could not stop eating or gaining weight.

That is what I continued to do. In 1992 I moved to San Diego to attend UCSD. I was so overwhelmed that I fainted my first day of college. I felt like this small fish in an ENORMOUS OCEAN. Ideations of jumping of The Coronado Bridge looked appealing at times. All the stress and unnecessary pressure caught up with me and I began to lose the weight. The reason why I share my ideation is because suicide is the leading cause of death on college campuses today. Students, and people in general, have too much responsibility with too little time and need to stay awake to get it all done. They will drink their energy drinks, do speed, pop pills even if they don’t need them, stay up all night, tweet, myspace, and facebook. Then, they have to do work, housework, homework, spend time with friends and kids, do sports etc. I get tired just thinking about it. They are over extended and overwhelmed. They will do what it takes to make it all happen. They continue to live behind a happy face until they cannot do anymore. As my college years went on, little did I know I was going to lose a college friend, Holly, from Leukemia. Although it was expected, it was another loss to endure.

Christmas Eve 1992, still at UCSD, I was sitting in my townhome living room, curtains drawn, fireplace on, watching Casablanca and drinking a glass of wine in the afternoon. Obviously, this is not a happy person. This was my second bout of depression. As I sulked, the phone rang and it was Nicole. She told me that mom had told her that I am depressed because I was having a challenge at UCSD. I worked hard to get into that school and to think of withdrawing was not an option. Nic and I began to talk and she said to me, I want you to write something down. Go get a pen and paper. She would not go further until she knew I had a pen and paper.

She said write these words, “Delete the need to understand everything. We don’t need to understand everything, some things just are.” These words of acceptance I hold near and dear to my heart. Ultimately, they helped me. I showered, packed my bag and went up to Laguna to enjoy my Christmas Eve.

New Years Eve – Nicole tells me she is asking for a divorce. She had an opportunity to share her story with me, but chose not to. Just like people battling with depression or mental overwhelm, no one ever wants to talk about it. There is a stigma that we must put an end to.

June 12, 1994 – Nicole was murdered and once again, my life changed. This time, forever. My pain was indescribable and insurmountable. Because of the notoriety, it became difficult for me to go through the normal grieving process. I stuffed my emotions and remained quiet. Again, I became a master at concealing my feelings.

Always having the passion to help others, but not having the courage in myself to step out to do what I really wanted to was pinned up inside of me. Once again, ignoring and suppressing my emotions, feelings and passions. Just when I thought I was getting on the Happy Train again, my best friend Troy died in 2001 in a cliff diving accident at The River. For an entire day and a half my sisters and mom did not know how to tell me that my best friend died. They knew that this one was going to be the worst. And it was. I was horribly angry at God for taking Troy. This went on for one month until I found God and faith and in Troy’s memory, I was re-baptized. This was not the end.

People say God works in mysterious ways. I would have to agree with this one. In October 2004, I was to be married and four days before the big day, my ex cancelled the wedding. I was so clinically depressed that I found it impossible to even get out of bed. My third and last bout of severe depression. It was though every nerve in my body was exposed and the wind was constantly blowing on me. This was the most excruciating pain I have ever felt in my life. It was unlike any other. This time, I was paralyzed; spiritually, mentally and physically paralyzed. Little did I know that this was the straw that broke the camel’s back. All of the emotions I stuffed inside me from the past losses, lack of self love, Troy and Nicole’s death came pouring out of me. I didn’t realize it at the time, but this was exactly the trigger I needed in order for me to grieve properly and to finally face myself and my pain.

For one month I became self-destructive. I drank and popped pills. It was apparent that I was horribly angry. I never knew that I had so much anger. Anger, not depression was so foreign to me. Even when I was depressed, I was always the girl who lifted people out of despair. All of it caught up with me and now, I was in that dark space. I did not know what to do because I lacked coping skills. On October 9, 2004 all of the “STUFF” that I had suppressed for years exploded in one evening. I held nothing back. I lashed out at my loved ones and devastated some of the most important people in my life. I found myself alone in my bedroom holding pills in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. I just wanted the pain to end. This was one more struggle I did not want to face. But there was a part of me that prevented me from taking the next step. I knew I was here for a greater good. I knew I had love in my life.

Thank God I paused.

At that very moment my sister walked up to me and with all the strength I could summon I said to her, “Get me away from here.” She took me to my friend’s house and the next morning she called and asked me, “Are you ready?” I said, yes. I knew exactly what she was talking about. I needed a safe place because I knew I could hurt myself and may be others. Before I knew it, I was in the care of South Coast Medical Center’s Behavioral Health.

Their inpatient program saved my life…ONLY because I did the work because I KNEW I needed help. I was going to do whatever it took to get better. I was more of a student of the program than I was a patient or victim of circumstance. I attended all of the classes, listened and took action on every suggestion. I was attending The University of Life. There was not one class or assignment that I missed. I learned life skills, coping strategies and other tools that are necessary to live a productive life of optimal mental health.

One of those tools that helped was; Journaling. It did not start off easy, though. At first, it was the most difficult thing to do. I had to face all the anger, darkness and loss that I never coped with. I forced myself. I needed to get all the stuff that was inside me out and into that journal to start seeing beauty. I tried to realize that this was not a bad place to journal. I had an ocean front room in Laguna Beach, no phone, no make-up and no one to impress.

But, I still could not do it. One day, during my in-patient stay, I was sitting on the edge of my bed looking out at a panoramic view from San Diego, and Laguna Beach to Palos Verdes and could not see the beauty in anything. I asked God, "What is so beautiful about this because I don’t see anything beautiful here?" At that very moment, a little hummingbird flew in front of my window. Immediately, I saw the waves crashing and the dog playing in the back yard below me. I finally saw the beauty that I had know all my life. Actually, it ended up to be very peaceful, after all.

So, everyday I looked out to the ocean meditating on the beauty that was around me. Journaling became very therapeutic to me. I would journal every day. In fact, I wrote in 2 journals in 10 days. After 10 days of being an inpatient student, I began immediate treatment in the Outpatient program. In the Partial Hospitalization Program, what I like to call a Graduate program, I made friends of all ages who I related to. We understood each other. Each of us had our own experience. Whether it was battling with Bi-Polar, Schizophrenia, Depression, Anxiety we all understood each other.

We all trusted each other because we thought people in the outside world did not. We were family. We were at home. I was at home. It was the only place where I felt safe and was the most productive. It was a place to cry and divulge the secret anger and pain that was festering inside of me. The Out-Patient program was my classroom for the next two months. Everyday from 9-3 I sat as a student absorbing all the information I possibly could. My Occupational Therapist Carol Hauley, my Guardian Angel, gave us homework assignments every day and every week to help us accomplish goals. One of my goals was to get out of bed. Then my goal was to make my bed. Another goal was to ultimately, drive myself to program. Then, I remember going to group with mascara on and she said to me, “Today is a good day, huh?” I smiled. Carol gave me problem solving worksheets that allowed me to see what my successes were and what roadblocks I encountered. I was given tools on Cognitive restructuring to help me cope with difficult people and situations that I will face once I am discharged. In other words, the program gave me tools to create a healthier, safer and more balanced life.

But, I was so frightened to be discharged but I new I had to learn to survive in the outside world. When I came home after my last day of the program, no one was there. I recall that I was sitting on the edge of my chair at the kitchen table and could not move until someone came home. I felt so alone and very scared. I did not know what to do or how to do LIFE. Sure, I had the tools that helped me turn my mental breakdown into a mental breakthrough. But, I was missing a coach, counselor or liaison to help me transition from seeking mental assistance to living life how I once knew it. I was still so vulnerable. That is when I reached out to NAMI. Within weeks I created a binder where I compiled all of my work from my hospital experience and NAMI. It has the tools, skills and strategies to help me get through the stressors and disappointments of life.

I am human, I relapse on some days. But, I know I am no longer a person who languishes, but rather a woman who has RE-CLAIMED and RE-GAINED her life. I am no longer that person who can’t get out of bed and just exist, but rather I am a woman who thrives to survive. I learned that when an event happens, it is our response that determines our outcome. So, I have learned to contain (Not Ignore) my emotions by pausing, digesting, responding and not reacting.

Sadly, though, many will follow through with their emotional reactions. Some may continue to stuff and not release their pain. Many will find resolve in drinking, substance abuse, gambling, sex and violence.

And, tragically, way too many, follow through on their suicidal ideations. I am a fortunate one. But, there are many who are not as fortunate.

I have dedicated the rest of my life to advocate for those who suffer from mental illness, destigmatize it all together and help people identify symptoms of feeling overwhelmed, over extended, stressed, anxious and depressed before it is too late.
Prevention can only begin with self-awareness. Many in the mental health field have lost the joy in helping others. Why is this? Not releasing our stress or disengaging at the end of the day. Perhaps you are beginning to see your clients as numbers and patients instead of people who are “STUCK” in their life?

What can you give to client that will add more joy not just to their life, but to yours as well? Empathy.

Do not lose empathy for your clients. They need you. I need you.

Don’t lose the passion that first captured your heart when you sought this profession. You love to help.

How can you, the professionals re-gain and maintain that joy?

Ask yourself, “What do I do on a daily basis to practice self care?” Do you practice self-care? If not, it is a must for everyone for personal, professional and spiritual growth. Self-care gives us permission to love ourselves so we are able to serve and care for others. None of us are immune to emotional breakdowns. In fact, what you do as a profession can leave you vulnerable to distress.

Here are some suggestions for you to consider: Schedule YOU TIME in your day, Yoga, Meditation, Relaxation Techniques, Stretching, Breathing, Reading, Walking in town or in nature and my favorites;

Journaling and Gratitude Journaling. What are five things you are grateful for that you experienced in your day? Do that before you go to bed and you will be amazed you’re your perspective changes. But, practice self care that brings you joy.

I want you also to understand that if someone you love and care about complains how horrible their life is, how they wish they were not here sometimes, or say things like, “I am so depressed and I don’t know what to do, I am so overwhelmed, I have so much pressure.” Talk to them. Give them resources to call. Do not judge and do not dismiss it. Many have a tendency to do that with those who are close to us because we are so involved in others problems. But, if you do dismiss, it could cost them their life.

Mental illness is a stigma in today’s society. Help me turn it around to promote Mental Health; How to attain it and maintain it. Stigma does not need to exist. Just because one has been diagnosed with an illness does not mean their life is over or are dead. There are resources to help people CLAIM their new life without being judged. And for others who have been diagnosed later in life, let’s help them RE-CLAIM their life.

We live in a Nation where we have to be the best and have the best. And it is getting THE BEST of us and those who suffer.
So, when someone suffers, they don’t want to talk about it. No one wants to talk about how they are actually having a difficult time. We are all human and we know that life gets hard. But, stuffing emotions and suicide are not the answers. Not wanting to talk about suffering or despair can cost you your life.

The stigma of mental illness needs to be eradicated. This is the message today; I want people to recognize if they need help. Help them see that their actions could be a permanent solution to a temporary problem. This is senseless since there are people who are here to help; without judgment. People in despair have a “family” who truly understands. Life after diagnosis is manageable! We are all here to help others so we need to encourage those who suffer to knock on the door.