Tag Archives: mental illness awareness

Just Heart ©️

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Good morning, Cicely.

There are some journeys we take alone. Not by choice, but by storm. Life has a funny way of rerouting the road just when you think you know the map. And suddenly, you’re not the person you thought you were going to be.

You’re not the golden boy anymore.

Not the rising star.

Not the dreamer with the straight path and the perfect arc.

You’re something else entirely.

You’re someone who went through it. And I mean really went through it.

I’ve spent time in places people whisper about—psych wards, jail cells, corners of the mind where the lights flicker and nothing makes sense. I’ve lost years to silence, confusion, and pain. I’ve watched dreams get shattered like glass on stone, and had to pick up the pieces with shaking hands.

There were nights no one called. Days no one knew where I was. Times even I didn’t know who I was.

And still… somehow… I’m here.

My family didn’t always understand. How could they? Mental illness doesn’t come with instructions. It doesn’t wear a name tag. It doesn’t sit politely in the corner. But even in the dark, they loved me. Fiercely. Imperfectly. Consistently. And I owe them everything.

There was a love once—a young one. One of those first-flame, heart-open, foolish-and-forever kind of things. I let it slip away. Maybe I ran. Maybe I wasn’t ready. Maybe I didn’t believe I deserved it. And I’ve never found that kind of depth again. That’s a ghost I carry. Not with bitterness, just with a quiet what if.

I never had children. And maybe I never will. That used to haunt me. But lately… I’ve started to see things differently.

Because while I may not be a father, I’ve become something else. Something I never thought I could be.

I’ve become me.

Not the broken version.

Not the could’ve-been.

Just me.

Someone I trust.

Someone I’m proud to carry through this world.

This is Chris in the Morning—KBHR 570 AM—and if you’re listening, and you’ve been through the long night… just know there’s still morning. There’s still music. There’s still time.

And sometimes, surviving becomes your greatest work.

Brother, I’ve Been There ©️

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Imagine a world where urban landscapes become haunted battlegrounds—not with ghosts, but with the echoes of trauma embedded in ordinary objects. The rhythmic hum of fluorescent lights in a supermarket might become the pulse of a distant helicopter; the sharp clink of a spoon in a café might transform into the chilling crack of gunfire. These moments blur the line between reality and memory, trapping individuals in a fractured state of being, their environment a labyrinth they cannot escape.

Examples of Triggers in Domestic Life:

1. Ceiling Fans: For someone who’s faced interrogation or confinement, a slowly rotating fan might evoke the eerie monotony of waiting for the inevitable.

2. TV Static: Once a harmless household phenomenon, it could become a symbol of disconnection for someone who’s suffered through sensory deprivation or isolation.

3. Door Slams: The sudden, sharp sound might pull someone back to moments of explosive chaos—arguments, violence, or worse.

4. The Smell of Gasoline: For a combat veteran or someone affected by an explosion, even a faint whiff could send their mind spiraling into hypervigilance.

Removing or Mitigating Triggers:

Imagine a reversed dystopia: cities engineered not to haunt but to heal. Technology could allow individuals to personalize their surroundings—streetlights with adjustable spectrums to reduce harsh, glaring light; soundscapes that mask sharp noises with soothing undertones. Textures, smells, and even the color of walls could be curated to soothe rather than aggravate. Imagine an urban renewal project where every detail is designed to nurture, not jar, the human psyche.

Beyond PTSD: The Wider Implications

Triggers do not belong solely to trauma survivors. Depression, schizophrenia, and manic depression may also have environmental anchors that either worsen symptoms or create moments of unbearable clarity. For example:

• Depression: A dim, monotonous workspace might compound feelings of hopelessness. Reintroducing soft natural light or biophilic design could transform emotional landscapes.

• Schizophrenia: Disorienting patterns (like chaotic wallpaper or flickering signs) might exacerbate hallucinations. Simpler, more grounded designs could provide stability.

• Manic Depression: The overstimulation of bright lights and loud environments could fuel manic episodes. Spaces that adapt dynamically—dimming or softening when overstimulation is detected—could help prevent swings.

A World Without Triggers:

Picture a utopia where the shadows are not ominous but soothing, where light doesn’t expose but gently illuminates. Removing these environmental stressors might create a cascade of healing: fewer overstimulated nervous systems, lower cortisol levels, and ultimately, fewer instances of mental illness developing or persisting. This world wouldn’t be sterile but intentionally designed—embracing the magic of architecture, sensory science, and empathy to reshape cities into sanctuaries.

Do you think we’re ready for this kind of intentional design in the real world, or would society resist it as overly curated?