What's the Most Difficult Part of Being Diagnosed With a Mental Illness?

I was diagnosed with many mental illnesses about 30 years ago. It was such a horrible experience. I hated myself and everyone around me. I did not believe in myself. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat. It was just horrible. My family did not want to believe that the had a daughter with a mental. They did not want others, even close friends and family to know about it. They joined a family-to family group and learned that they were not alone. Now they understand me better and they do not mind talking about to other people. I have found a good therapist and a good psychiatrist who believes in me and wants me to understand my illnesses. I have gotten better and I have set myself some goal with the encouragement from my therapist.I have gotten to the point where I don't mind talking to certain people about my problems and they seem to understand and do not treat me any different like some other people did. I hardly ever hear voices anymore which is a good thing. I do not stay suicidal all the time like I used to. I am lucky to have such a good treatment team and family and friends who now knows where I am coming from. That sure does make things a whole lot easier for me. I have also learned to accept myself the way I am and not the way others think I should be. That was one of the hard things for me to do.

You captured well some of the various difficulties associated with the initial diagnosis of a mental illness. For me, among the most difficult of things was the idea of acceptance (or lack thereof). Personally, this encompassed two distinct types of acceptance: acceptance from others and acceptance of myself. I lost friendships and employment opportunities. I didn't blame others, though. I blamed myself. I easily found many reasons to hate myself. I struggle with this still, but it has gotten much better thanks to many different factors. However, I'll always wrestle with it I think, and I'll always remember the sting of shame cause by the lack of acceptance by others and myself.

No one has talked about the relationship with their therapist, so I have something different to share. I was very lucky in finding my first therapist as we bonded very well. I understand that is not always true for many others. I was able to fully open myself up and communicate every moment of my life. She was totally accepting of whatever I said. She believed me and believed in me. She showed me compassion for everything which allowed me to start giving compassion to myself. Now, the hardest part, after one year she moved away. I thought my world ended. We worked together to find a solution--I wrote a pro and con list as to whether I should follow her and drive a total of 412 miles every two weeks for therapy or try to find a new therapist closer to my home. It took a month for my decision, to follow her for therapy, to feel like the correct one. At no point did she tell me her opinion until I had told her mine. She agreed it was the best decision for me. I had to learn how to drive in a very large city at the age of 57. Not an easy thing to do, but I was determined. I continued my therapy with her for the next 6 years and it proved to be the best decision over and over again. And then she retired. Another very difficult situation for me. I chose another therapist closer to home which proved not to be the best for me so I changed to another. One and a half years later I'm doing very well with my second choice. It was so difficult in the beginning but she was patient and we discussed my feelings about almost having to start from the beginning in order for her to understand me at this point in time. That was frustrating for me but it didn't make me relive the trauma I experienced when I was young. We now have a good relationship and I believe I've moved on quite nicely. I also had to change psychiatrists, I met with the only one in my clinic, I fired him after one visit and now am having my internal med doctor monitor my meds. I also have some members in my family not able to believe me or support me and, yes, it is very hurtful.

I agree with Nicki too. The hardest part of mental illness for me is family who are in denial about me having a mental illness.
They think I'm just lazy and wanted an "easy" way to "check-out!" Like our lives have actually been easy and We didn't want a better life!
Most of my family says my mental illness is all a lie, because this is not the way I was as a child. (Schizo- Affective Disorder usually shows up later in life.)
At first, I was angry and upset at the unfairness of how my family treated me. Then I cut them out of my life.
But the anger did not go away.
Eventually, I was able to bring them all back in my life. I deal with them where they are at present, as if they have something "wrong" with them too- an inability to see the world and the people around them clearly, and an inability to show compassion. I treat them with the compassion I would like to be treated with! And things are better now!
And you know what? All my nieces and nephews think I'm great, despite the untruths their parents tell them about me. I've let go of the need to change what people think of me! Thank You, Healthy Place for giving us all a forum in which to tell our stories and to air our grievances!
Peggy

Natalie,
I am new to the site. Loved your post. I will keep my response brief:
Denial-do not want to carry this illness
Embarrassment-do not want to be associated with “those” people
Insecurity-Can I be productive? Can I succeed at anything?
Abandonment/isolation-Who is going to accept me? (friends, family, partner)
I was diagnosed 15 years ago with BP II and still have experience these difficulties.

I guess the most difficult part is having relatives who don't believe in mental illnesses but believe that I only need spiritual healing and not medications...

I need to read about others with mental illnesses and bad psychiatrists. I had begun to feel I was alone.