You are here

Laura Sanscartier

Hyde & Hyde.... no Jekkyll

From the time I was a little girl, I have always had horrible thoughts. Thoughts of hurting people, thoughts of people dying. Thoughts of car crashes and horrible accidents around the house. I always thought that I was just a strange person, and that having these thoughts was a part of my broken brain. Fast forward to 2018, and it was finally made clear: I have OCD. I have the kind of OCD where I am in constant fear of hurting those close to me, or absolute strangers. I have horrible horror-movie images in my head at all times.

Hold On

(Trigger warning for sexual assault)
There's a song by Sarah MacLachlan called "Hold On". The first line is "Hold on, hold on to yourself, for this is gonna hurt like hell." I often think of it when it comes to hard things in my life. Not because it's "gonna hurt like hell", but because I need to "hold on".

When It Rains... pours. Or at least it does in my case.  I bet it does in a lot of cases out there. I wish I could meet each and every one of you and give you the biggest hug.  

No Two Wellness Journeys Are the Same

"I feel fantastic!"

"Life is so good!"

"Look at how well I'm doing!"

Have you seen a status like this on Facebook or Instagram and felt revulsion toward the person who wrote it? Believe me, I've been there.  

For many people, wellness means that life couldn't get any better, and is skyrocketing. But for those of us with bipolar disorder, wellness is different. Sometimes it's remembering to take our meds. Sometimes it's remembering to shower. Sometimes it's taking a look at what's been going on and saying "Am I headed to mania/depression?"

Why I Stay

In the throes of my bipolar depression and psychosis, all I wanted to do was die. This has happened multiple times in my life. I have attempted suicide multiple times. I was sure that the only way to relieve the stress on my spouse and family was to end it all. I had multiple plans, and the assuredness of mind that this was best. What I didn't see was the little things. The things that ultimately matter most. I don't have much money, and I don't drive fancy cars or live in a mansion. The small things saved me.  

Dear Younger Me

Dearest Laura,

I call you dearest because I know you don't believe it about yourself, but you are dear to so many. Right now, at 19 years of age, you want to cease existing, and you're trying to figure out how. I want to tell you to STOP.  Stop and look around you. Stop and feel the softness of your blanket. Stop and look at the pictures surrounding you. Stop and hear the beautiful music playing from your Walkman (remember when you used those?). Go to the kitchen and find something delicious Momma made for supper to taste.  

When Thanks Will Never Be Enough

Dear John,

I need to write you a letter of thanks. Though we’ve swapped emails for years with snarky jokes and little life updates, it’s time I thanked you. Truly.

I was a soprano who smoked constantly, swore all the time, and wore inappropriate clothing to my auditions. Yet you saw someone who could do something, who could make something of herself. You saw me.

A Hug and a Whisper

In the battle against Bipolar Disorder, one often feels alone. This is nothing new. The disease is such that we are left feeling powerless. No one will ever feel the way that we feel, will never know the highs and lows, will never know the agony of suicidal ideation when things get so bad it seems there is no other way out. I have felt this way most of my life.

PTSD & Bipolar Disorder

When I was 20, I was sexually assaulted. The details of such an incident are my own, and not anything of any use in a blog post, but they caused a condition called Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD. PTSD is found in the DSM-V, and many who have lived a trauma are diagnosed with the condition.

Mental Health Awareness: How & Why?

I first knew there was something different about me when I was about 7. I kept my mouth shut, as I was the oldest of 4 kids, and mom and dad had many things to take care of. I could feel my body shift into moments of extreme anger, sadness, or happiness. Whenever these moments "leaked out", my family would attribute it to my "dramatic and theatrical nature". It's no wonder I went into opera performance as a career.