Tag Archives: Living


I’M ANGRY. I REALLY AM. The Mentally Ill suffer daily for many reasons. The stigma of being Mentally Ill, the loss of friends of family, the loss of work and sense of purpose, the loss of drive to do anything or think. The list goes on.

I can’t tolerate the medication merry go round it takes for a Bipolar patient to find the right combination of drugs to help them feel somewhat like a person. If this ever happens. Almost ALL BIPOLAR MEDICATION LEAVE YOU SEDATED. There are very few that leave you feeling like you actually want to participate in life. The ONLY WAY I have been able to do things like go to Florida is because I take Adderall to counteract the drowsiness of the Viibryd and Topamax I take.

My sister in law forbids me to say the word Adderall. She says it’s a “Vicious drug that leads to nothing but heartbreak”. It wasn’t the Adderall that caused the heartbreak it was my niece. Mental Illness and addiction is practically a given in our family. She had already been diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder and she was already using Heroine. My ex sister in law chose to blame the Adderall instead of acknowledging the harder stuff. There is no such thing as “Gateway” anything. Addiction comes from some deep routed problem within you. It doesn’t help if your family has a history of it. I don’t believe that one drug or drink leads you to addiction. It has to be in you to begin with.

When I see some of the medications other bloggers are on I’m mortified and pissed. No wonder they feel so horrible. I know these meds because I’ve been on most them myself at one time or another. I’ve never been on two or three of them at once! It would’ve been like Night of The Living Dead. How these poor people even get up to go to the toilet I don’t understand. The over medicated are just as bad as the under medicated.


There’s no shame in it. Just f*cking do it! People are going to eventually die because of this. Either because they can’t find a way out of the darkness they’ve been put in or because they are simply over medicated. Seriously. A patient being prescribed 2 mood stabilizers, 2 antidepressants, and a pinch of ADHD medication? I’m sorry an antidepressant and an antipsychotic they use to sedate people with 2 different stabilizers. I’m officially disgusted.


Bipolar Memories

I recently read Polishing Dookie’s post “The Piano Man” on her blog and found so many similarities that it had me thinking. I thought of my own Grandparents and immediate family. I then went through some pictures. I’m not sure if this was a good idea or not.

I never knew my father’s father. He passed away at a young age from bleeding ulcers. I know he was stern, hardworking, and did not show affection. I’ve only seen one photo of him and it was blurry. I know my dad was born and raised mostly on a farm. He’s the oldest of 9.  My father’s siblings do not talk to each other at all. They do not show emotion. All the men on my dad’s side of the family have these famous Popeye forearms. I’m not kidding. My dad, not realizing what his looked like, had an anchor tattoo on one and a skull on the other. The tattoos were so horrible no one was surprised when the tattoo artist was shot to death a few years later.

My father’s mother was 4′ 9″ and also stern. She didn’t do hugs until she was in her 70’s. She didn’t tell her children she loved them until she was in her 70’s. She had been adopted and the circumstances of her childhood were less than ideal from what I can piece together. My sister and I would be left with her on occasion when my parents needed a weekend alone or there was an emergency. It wasn’t our favorite place to be.

For some reason we spent most of our time with my mother’s side of the family. My mother’s mother was loud and overbearing. She wasn’t the best wife or mother. Of course my mom always longed for her approval. She never got it. Even though she raised her brothers and sisters and was the one who sacrificed the most. My mother’s father was a plumber and served in the Army. He let my Grandmother do as she pleased without question or responsibility. Eventually she left him with 7 children, there was 8 but she had given one up for adoption when they were first married. It wasn’t my Grandfather’s.

My mother was close to her father. When he was diagnosed with Colon Cancer and Bone Cancer she was devastated. He insisted on being treated at the VA Hospital. He was diagnosed too late but as a last ditch effort they had taken bone from his neck to fuse something. He had a halo screwed into his head. When my mom would take us daily to see him she would have to clean him, change his diaper, there would be vomit running down the front of the halo and his top. She would clean this too. Her siblings couldn’t see him like that. When we received the phone call that he had passed away I could hear my mom screaming at someone on the phone. The Hospital was refusing to remove the halo saying it would break his neck. She thought this was insane since he was already dead. He had suffered with that thing on him and she wanted it off. She told them she was coming there with a screw driver and if it wasn’t off by the time she got there she was doing it herself.

My mom was one of the toughest most loving people I will ever know. Her experience with Lung Cancer changed her personality and changed the rest of us forever. I’ll never fully recover from those years.

I’m at the point in my life where my father is thinking of what he needs to do with the house and anything else he has. He’s been trying to figure this out for months. My mother wanted the house split 3 ways. My dad isn’t so sure it should be like that. He knows everything that I’ve done for him and my mom. I’ve also paid for a lot of things and pay monthly bills. I’m on Disability. My sister is married with a house, my half brother makes a lot of money that he usually gambles or drinks away.

It’s already started. My mom had a ring made for me from an extremely gaudy ring my Grandmother had. When she showed it to me she said “This is for you after I’m gone. I know you’ll probably never get married like your sister so I wanted you to have something for yourself”. Now my sister debates this and my father doesn’t know what the truth is. I doubt the ring is even worth much. It’s just the point of it. I can only imagine what they’ll do when it comes to my dad’s antique clocks or if he doesn’t make a will or a decision about the house. I’m not looking forward to it. Neither one of my siblings would have a problem with me living in a shelter or my car. At one time my sister had said something about me living with her. They have a good sized house and a spare room. I wouldn’t because of her husband. I mentioned it in passing recently and she denied ever saying it.

Family. Do we have to like them? No. Do we have to love them? It depends on who you ask.

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