Tag Archives: Understanding

Suicide Shaming

I was scrolling through Instagram recently when a picture popped up of a musician who had done a charity event for a friend who had died in a car accident. He didn’t do much performing from what I understand he mostly talked. There were other musicians that performed but his name was more recognizable. I read the comments which I usually don’t like to do but I’m a glutton for punishment.

The musician I’m referring to had made comments about how his friend deserved a tribute unlike the “cowards who took the easy way out” these may not be his exact words because it’s been removed from Instagram in the last few hours.

He’s known for putting his large foot in his mouth and not really caring until it starts to interfere with his ticket sales or Social Media numbers. Then he back peddles.

I’ve always admired his vocal range and song writing. I read several interviews where he said he was sober. They were from reputable sources and he also said it on a TV interview. When another musician overdosed he had said that he didn’t understand because they had just had dinner together and were both sober.

This is a case of people in glass houses. Unless you’re perfect keep your comments to yourself.

I’ve met you, watched you drink from a bottle of Red under your chair, recognized the bluish-purple stain of your teeth, talked to you while you were drunk in the last 2 years. I don’t think you’ve ever truly been sober for any length of time. You belong to that secret club that believes you can drink as long as it’s “controlled”. There are other people in this club I know and it doesn’t work.

You have no right to say who deserves something and who doesn’t. You’re drinking to mask a pain you don’t want to face. These people were trying to face their pain but combined with mental illness it was maybe too much. I don’t know and you don’t know what was going on. I do know the pain, shame, and hopelessness you feel while at your lowest point. You don’t even think of reaching out. Some of us don’t have anyone to reach out to. We fear hospitalization because honestly it’s horrendous.

There’s no simple answer to this subject. It’s complex because every human is different with different brain chemistry, genetics, environment, life experience, you can’t predict or pretend to know what a person is feeling or how they will react.

I see more and more self-help propaganda that frustrates me to no end. We are talking about the brain. It’s so complex that the top scientists in the World admit they just don’t know when it comes to serious mental illness and brain disorders. THEY DON’T KNOW.

But go ahead and take advice from a person with no degree in Medicine, Psychiatry, Neurology or Neuropharmacology because they would know right?1037361horace-poet-it-is-the-false-shame-of-fools-to-try-to-conceal-wounds

Coping With Confusing And Scary Diagnoses

I’ve been told to stop saying “You don’t understand” by my twin sister and my dad. I’ve been told a lot by them lately and I’m reaching a boiling point. They don’t understand.

When you have lived most of your life thinking the way you are is just how it is, you’re supposed to suffer for some unknown reason. So you do and you get accustomed to it.

The day the wall crumbles isn’t really a relief. I didn’t know how to feel. I was in shock, I couldn’t think or speak. Then the anger came. Then the grief and feeling of loss. 20 plus years of my life wasted, countless Doctors seen who never picked up on a mental illness that I most likely started showing symptoms of by the time I was 10, I am now told.

I wasn’t really given any information on Bipolar Disorder just medication. I educated myself. I did get a second opinion to confirm the diagnosis. The state also did their own examination for Disability. I was still angry and my family didn’t want to talk about it. I do not do well in Therapy, I’ve been many, many, times. My brain shuts off as soon as I sit down. If they start with asking me to write where I see myself in 5 years forget it. If they want me to picture a stop sign during a stressful situation forget it. I don’t know why it’s so difficult for me.

When you’ve had several Doctors give you a diagnosis that is either life threatening or reveals you have had a traumatic experience you can’t remember and they want to use you as a teaching tool it’s rude. They could wait a day instead of hitting me with the bad news then asking if they could video tape my stuttering and tremors.

What I remember from past is pretty bad. To think that there is something worse scares me so when I was told about the type of Conversion Disorder I have I was devastated. The Doctor was filled with joy to have a live specimen for his students, colleagues and book. I did get a second opinion on this also and it was confirmed along with other disturbing results from a brain scan.

I’m having trouble coping with all of it. I fought with my sister again because she was crying and said “No one knows what it’s like to be tired all the time and in pain. I can’t do what I want with my kids and husband. I don’t want to live the rest of my life like this.” She was diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.

I have a life expectancy of maybe 57 because I have been diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder, Conversion Disorder, Chronic Kidney Disease Stage 3 (1 remaining kidney working at 68%), Celiac Disease (stays active), Autoimmune Diseases (related to Celiac), Chronic Low Heart Rate and Blood Pressure, Chronic Low White Blood Cells, Swelling in one part of my brain and a significant loss of white matter, Osteoporosis, and I’m 44 years old.

I’ve never been in love or a relationship. When I was young I thought I would have a house, husband, and children. Yes, I am responsible for my own actions. I did not know I would go into Menopause at 37 or that I had been dealing with a mental illness for many years. I chose to medicate myself with alcohol and spend time with people who hurt me physically and emotionally. I honestly believed I deserved it. I wouldn’t have had a child unless I was in a financially, mentally, stable situation so it is what it is.

Hearing my sister complain when she has a beautiful home, 2 gorgeous well behaved boys, a husband (I’ll keep my opinion to myself ), many friends, and is a stay at home mom, pissed me off. It’s always a contest with her. She can win. I give. If you can’t appreciate what you have you don’t deserve it. I’m done begging her to love me. I’m done begging people to “understand” what’s wrong with me.

If one more Doctor treats me indifferently or like I’m a moron I will not sit there quietly and take it. I’m done with that. I am a person with feelings and a brain that still works pretty well sometimes. I am not deaf, slow, or dangerous. I’m tired of being treated like dog shit you found on the bottom of your shoe.

Black Hole Sun~Until You’ve Been There

I was reprimanded today for crying over someone I did not know personally. The problem is in a way I did know him. I knew when I heard the news at 7:30 a.m. this morning what had most likely happened.

My sister sent me a text saying she had been crying all morning and we went back and forth a little. She has not talked to me in what for us is a long time. The communication stopped immediately when details were released later today. I knew she would discontinue communication when she learned what I already knew.

The life expectancy of someone with a severe mental illness like Bipolar Disorder is much shorter than the average person. If the person also has an alcohol/drug addiction you can take off a few more years even if they are now sober. I’ve done all the research there is do. I have a thing for statistics and research.

I cry over someone who writes lyrics that explain how I feel or have felt but could never put into words. Some lyricists write like they’ve been in my head or knew me at a specific time. It’s a tell like in poker.

Until you have stood on a roof looking down into a black abyss of pavement thinking “I can’t take this pain, this empty ache in my chest any longer” and you jump, I don’t want to hear your opinion. (I was closer to the ground than I thought and extremely drunk. I chipped a bone in my ankle and some cuts and bruises.)

Until you have had charcoal forced down your throat or your stomach pumped because you swallowed a bottle of painkillers while thinking “I never belonged here. I watch other people live but I don’t understand how. I don’t fit. I wasn’t meant to be.” I don’t want to hear your opinion.

Until you’ve been stitched up for you fourth time because you have no self respect and think you deserve to be treated like garbage I don’t want to hear your opinion.

Until you blow a .36 at the Police Station where you’ve been many times and the men in the room are wondering how you are still functioning and you hear the names they call you and are so humiliated it has gotten this bad you picture doing the unthinkable I don’t want to hear your opinion.

I hope I’ve made it clear that unless you have been in a person’s situation it isn’t gossip or fodder for the media it’s someone’s son, daughter, sister, brother, husband, wife. Remember that and the suffering that goes with it.

To the person who is no longer here. You had empathy, talent, a light inside of you that you probably couldn’t always see, and you made a difference to me. You will be missed.


Today my Dad said “Think about what it would be like if you were in my shoes”. This angered me. I’m finding myself angry too much lately because I’m not absorbing my medications.

I bit my tongue for as long as I could then said “I would’ve loved to be in your shoes. You had a woman who love and adored you for years. You got to make the choice to have a family, own your own home, travel, laugh with your wife. Yes, there were bad times but the good times I watched from a distance were real and beautiful. She worshipped you and talked about you all the time. Why? Because you were the only man in her entire life that was good to her. You think I never wanted any of that for myself?”.

I think I shocked my Dad for the first time in a long time. For once he heard me. He feels better about his life and I feel worse about mine than I already did. 13901354_10210665207453215_2448191949000437152_n

“You Do Realize You’ve Always Been Different Right?”

One of my earliest memories is a Birthday Party for my twin sister and I. At the time you could have your Birthday Party at McDonald’s. I believe were around 9/10 years old.

At one point in the party I was outside. I remember standing outside the glass doors watching everyone laugh and fun with such ease. My twin seemed to be able to do this with no effort. I stood there watching for a long time. I thought “why can’t I be like them?”, “I want to go home”, “I can’t do this it’s too hard”. Even at that age I felt uncomfortable around people. I always felt like I was on the other side of that glass door watching other people live normal lives.

This feeling has never gone away. Not in 44 years. I just deal with it better now by pretending or isolating myself.

My mom was extremely close to one of her sister’s my Auntie Lee. I love my Auntie Lee. She does remind me a lot of my mom. It’s selfish but it’s one of the reasons I love to spend time with her. She is also the one other person who has accepted completely for who I am. Although like my mother she has no mental/verbal filter. lol

I  talked to her the other day and told her I’ve been having a hard time lately. I also mentioned that I’m having trouble making the smallest decisions like what underwear put on! She laughed at that one. (Her laugh makes me happy and breaks my heart at the same time. It’s exactly like my mom’s.) She did say to me “Honey, you’ve always been that way. I think you’re just now noticing it. You’ve always been different. You were always more sensitive then the other kids, you would rather be around the adults or by yourself, you didn’t talk much you just soaked up what everyone else said and did. You were always observant, way more than kids your age. But you were so quiet it was painful to watch”.

In a way I was relieved that someone had noticed something. I was also sad that some people could see those things in me and not do anything about it. It’s hard to explain to my Dad or my sister that I’ve had symptoms from an early age. It’s hard for them to understand how much I’ve been through. I don’t want pity, I just don’t want what I’ve been through to be dismissed. Years and years of suffering I can’t even describe. And now medications do not work.

When I was younger Manic Episodes were great. Tons of energy, babbling, spending sprees, getting dressed up and going out, taking off to wherever I wanted, my own version of a Rockstar  life. As I got older my Manic Episodes started to change. Specifically when I started to go through Menopause early. Now Manic meant irritability, anger and resentment. A feeling of being trapped in a cage. My Depressive Episodes started to last longer.

Bipolar Depression I suppose is different for everyone. I know I wouldn’t wish mine on my worse enemy. (Okay maybe I would) It’s the giant aching hole in my chest that’s filled with loss, grief, worthlessness, self loathing, guilt, shame, and just overwhelming sadness. There’s no light at the end of the tunnel. My brain plays memories of events I would rather not go over again constantly. Thoughts race around in my head about things I had no control over but somehow blame myself for anyway. And I keep asking why my twin sister doesn’t love me as much as I love her.

That is a big issue with me. When she told me she hosting Pre Party for Women’s March then going with a group of women I was happy for her. But she never once asked if I wanted to go. The march was focused on the Affordable Care Act and defunding Planned Parenthood. My sister brought up her “harassment” when she used to get her birth control pills from Planned Parenthood. The more she talked and the more I realized I wasn’t going to be invited, the angrier I became.

I wanted to scream at her. I wanted to ask her if she’s ever been called a “baby killer” at a party for everyone to hear. If she ever walked into an apartment for a party and saw hundreds of photocopied pictures of dead fetuses taped to the walls. The apartment owner thought it would be punishment because he had just become a Born Again Christian. I will remind you that this is the same person who sold drugs, slept with underage girls, and beat me to the point of unconsciousness. There were about 30 people already there. Instead of leaving like a normal person would do I sat down without any expression on my face and drank a pint of Firewater and about 16 beers. I wanted to ask her if she’s ever been called a “baby killer” and spit on by her best friend’s boyfriend. I accidentally punched him in the face. But it was pointless. I keep expecting people to understand things they are not capable of.

I go to the Psychiatrist on February 7th and I’m scared. Nothing has been working for a long time now. Only the fast acting medications like Adderall and Klonopin work. Everything else doesn’t. I’m tired of being an experiment. There has to be a better way. I’m getting worse. I leave the house once a month. I don’t want to do anything or go anywhere. I have no interest in anything. Something has to give.


Social Security Disability is a total Disability program. Benefits are given when the “condition” is 100% disabling. Social Security Disability isn’t given on the basis of a condition that is temporarily disabling.

Disability Definition- an individual must have a severe impairment that has lasted or is expected to last for a minimum of one year.

Where does the money come from? Social Security Disability is funded by taxes. Employees are taxed 6.2% of their Income.

Proving Disability- Proving Disability isn’t as easy as people think it is. Once upon a time that may have been the case. There’s no dispute that some people took advantage of the system. Improvements have been made, I’m not sure if they were positive or not. I can only go by my own experience.

Stigma of Disability- For some strange reason, people think I sit on my couch all day eating Bon Bons, drinking Champagne, and watching Soap Operas. That I’m the happiest person ever, I’m free from the bonds of working. There is resentment. Little comments are made. “Of course you can do that, you don’t work”. That’s a nicer comment.

Every time I talked to my best friend on the phone somehow the subject of “people who don’t work and take advantage of the system” would come up. She works for the Post Office. I can’t really blame her. They are forced to work overtime and hardly ever have 2 days in a row off. She also spent years delivering mail to low income housing and would see so much that angered her. Child neglect, young girls having more children when they couldn’t afford the three they had, guys on Disability doing manual labor they shouldn’t have been able to do, all of this got to her.

When she complained about it she would always add at the end “You know I don’t mean you, you need it”. After awhile it was harder to believe she didn’t mean me.

She called me for the first time in a long time on Sunday. We talked for 2 hours. When the conversation came around to “people who don’t work” I let her rant. When she was done as calmly as I could I said “From the age of 14 I started paying into Disability. When I was managing Blockbuster for years there were times I made up to $45,000. I didn’t tell anyone because I was ashamed I made that much and had nothing to show for it. I drank it away, I spent it on clothes, make up, hair products, salons, perfume that was $200 a bottle, I took my parents to Vegas, I paid for little getaways for me and my sister just so she would spend time with me, I bribed my own family with gifts, but I still paid into my share into Disability”. I also told her “If I had known what I would have to go through just to get Disability, I’m not sure I would’ve done it. Between being mocked and humiliated by DHS and going before a Judge that was so rude I had to watch my father hold himself back with tears in his eyes at the time it didn’t seem worth it.”

She had forgotten about the woman at DHS who pulled a Donald Trump and mimicked my stutter. I was upset to the point that my father took the phone from me. When he heard what she was doing I thought I would mess my pants. My father’s mad voice is like Darth Vader only worse. He never uses curse words. That day he did.

While going for Disability I had to sit in front of a Judge and answer questions. The Conversion Disorder was at an all time high, I had just been diagnosed with it. (Some people get better with a diagnosis and some worse) My lawyer had spoken on the Senate Floor about Disorders like Conversion Disorder and was extremely knowledgeable. Very rare.

When the Judge asked his first question I was trying so hard to talk clearly that I made my stutter worse. The Judge said “What? Didn’t you take your meds today?” The way he said it was almost with a snarl. I could see my dad out of the corner of my eye. My heart broke for the hundredth time. I tried again to speak but it was worse. The Judge was becoming irritated. I didn’t know my lawyer was giving him enough rope to hang himself. After a few more insulting comments my lawyer finally stood up and said “Your Honor did you read what my client is diagnosed with?”. Judge “Yes”. Lawyer “Then you know she has Conversion Disorder which causes her to stutter under stress? Because I just did an entire presentation on the subject on The Senate Floor because it is a Disability.” At this point the Judge looked upset. He stood up suddenly and said “Give it to her” and left the room in a hurry. I sat there and cried.

I’ve paid my dues. Monetarily, physically, and mentally. I’m tired of trying to make people understand or worrying what other people think.



There are times when you hear a song, an interview, or a radio show and hear a celebrity say something that resonates with how you feel. There’s a reason for that. There’s a reason that people who are depressed or suicidal feel the need to make contact with a famous person they’ve heard.

I’ve found myself feeling the same way at the times. You listen to them and you think “Finally someone who understands me. Someone who knows my pain, emptiness, the all consuming darkness that encompasses me at times”. I get it. I do. When you hear lyrics that describe to a T an actual moment in your life, how can you not feel that way? When you watch an interview of a person describing the same trauma and pain you’ve been through you think you have a connection.

Unfortunately, you don’t. I strongly advise you not to contact them when you are depressed or suicidal. You are opening yourself up to a world that doesn’t understand and most likely doesn’t care to understand. The person you contact is put on the spot and under the pressure of someone else’s mental health. This isn’t fair to them. Some do not react appropriately because they either don’t know how or because they have their own shit to deal with. They may make jokes or become irritated with the person contacting them. Then how does that make the depressed person feel? Not better.

This isn’t going to make me popular but at this point I don’t really care. I’m tired of everything I see and hear. I’m tired of the lack of humanity. I’m tired of the narcissism. I am tired of being dismissed and witnessing people with mental health problems actually being told to kill themselves on Social Media. I’m tired of this vile activity being viewed as acceptable. I’m tired of the lack of compassion for anyone on this planet that isn’t like you.

Dave Navarro has a radio podcast called Dark Matter. On a recent episode there was a caller who was depressed. I’m not sure anyone in the studio knew how to handle it. A person with a background in Mental Health/Depression/Suicide on hand might be a good thing when a call goes south or to help screen calls. Mr. Navarro’s documentary has opened him up to a new audience. His work with Domestic Abuse Victims has also. The documentary deals with trauma, addiction, and pain. These are all the criteria for people with mental health issues.

People also see him on TV every week making them feel as if they know him more. The unfortunate thing is the followers on the Dark Matter chat site. Some encouraged the caller to kill himself. They were also discussing previous “crazy” people that had been callers. *so you know I’m pretty sure if you added Uncle Creepy’s IQ with Renticles mine would still be higher. I hate to stoop to that level but the point needs to be made that we are not idiots*

What anyone with a Mental Health problem has to understand is that they are people like us but not. They don’t have to talk to you. You can’t guilt someone into giving you what you need. You know how badly I wanted to call in and discuss Judas Priest and Kip Winger? I was so excited because I’ve seen Priest in concert at least 6 times and I’ve seen Rob Halford when he was in the band Fight. I didn’t hear them mention that and I had met Rob Halford at that time. The band Voivod was with them and a member of the band “Piggy” liked my cousin. So glad it wasn’t me. lol I’ve also met Kip Winger and thought he was a nice guy. But the nicest guy I’ve ever met is Mike Tramp from White Lion. I was on his bus for about 4 hours discussing the movie Gladiator and Stephen King’s Dark Tower series. We even talked about how we would see it as a movie. His English isn’t perfect so that’s why it was 4 hours. I feel a connection with Mr. Navarro for the same reasons as other people. We have the same interests, we’ve met or know a lot of the same people, our sense of humor is similar, but I had to realize that it doesn’t mean anything.

This doesn’t make me worthless, ugly, or unwanted. No one else can make your problems go away no matter who they are. That’s something only you can do. I understand the need to connect and feel visible. But you won’t get it this way. What you will get is groups of ignorant people who only feel good about themselves by destroying others. Or they are trying to impress the celebrity they are following. Most of the time it isn’t appreciated but the can’t monitor everything.

I was happy to see Dark Matter issue a statement on their Facebook page. It won’t stop anything but it can’t hurt either.

Then next time anyone is feeling depressed/suicidal come here instead of contacting an actor/actress/musician. You might just find what you’re looking for.

DISCLAIMER~ I am not a Doctor I just play one online. I have lived through pretty much everything there is that life can throw at you. Including my own death from kidney failure, death of loved ones, suicide attempts, alcoholism, violence, arrests, Mental Health diagnoses, stigma, hatred, memory loss, and more. I sound awesome!national-suicide-prevention-hotline

PSYCHOPATHS AND SOCIOPATHS (What We All Might Have In Common) Part I.

I will be the first to admit that I am like a dog with a bone when someone offends me. I can’t help myself. I have issues with “letting go” as my sister would say.

My twin sister also compares me to Tony Soprano and has on occasion called me a “Sociopath”. I have sometimes wondered if she was right.

I have difficulty with empathy/sympathy when it comes to other people. Empathy is when you can imagine how another person feels about a situation. Sympathy is when you share another person’s feelings or emotions about a situation. Got it? Had to look that up.

I have an enormous amount of empathy/sympathy for specific living things. I know it sounds odd but I have always been this way.

I will crash my car before I hit a squirrel. Animals are high on my list. I have given CPR to two dogs and saved countless other animals. You haven’t lived until you’ve vaccinated 350 pigeons in the neck. Ugh! Draining or expressing blocked anal glands is no joy either. But they are helpless and depend on us.

I have talked to around 11 different people suffering from addiction/mental illness right before they were going to take their lives. I had some influence in letting them know that they are not monsters, they are not unwanted, and they are not alone. They stayed alive. I won’t take full credit because they had to decide to stay.

I feel empathy/sympathy for anyone who wasn’t given the tools to begin with to have a decent life. I have no sympathy/empathy for people who had everything available to them and chose to be who they are. If there is a mental illness, abuse, addiction, or mitigating circumstances, then I understand. Sometimes an asshole is just an asshole. It’s difficult for me to have sympathy for someone like this.

I have been guilty of not helping people and walking by. If it’s in a public place and there are already 5 people starting to surround them I’m not going to get in the way.

There are certain people I wouldn’t help if they were on fire.

Does this make me a Psychopath/Sociopath because I am cautious of certain people or dislike certain types of people? Maybe. But not how you think. th

Most of us probably have more in common with Psychopaths and Sociopaths than we would like to admit.

In my next post I’ll explain what I mean and what I found out about my own brain that frightened me a little bit.



I just read a post by Pieces of Bipolar that made me face something I’ve been avoiding. My uncontrollable anger or rage. I used to think that I only experienced this while I was drinking. The truth is I only became physical when I was drinking. There are times where I bubble over and explode into a curse laden, head spinning, hate spewing, diatribe.

I honestly never start the explosion. There is usually a trigger. The other person has known there are triggers and warning signs and has continued anyway.

I’m trying not to make excuses but it’s hard. The day I fought with my brother in law I sat in my sister’s car later on and couldn’t remember most of what I said. I couldn’t remember the spittle flying out of my mouth with the words. I didn’t remember threatening him or calling him a “little f*cking man” who didn’t know how to step up and take care of his family. I sat in that car rocking back and forth with the sound of bees in my head and tears streaming down my face. I knew my hands felt hot and tingly and I was shaking.

I recently had a fight with my sister where I said horrible things to her. I called her the C word amongst various other lovely names. Again, my father found me later on the bathroom floor in a puddle of drool. I didn’t remember most of it. I knew it wasn’t good but I didn’t know just how bad it was.

I always thought it was the really crazy people that did these things. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t out of control. But I was. I was. I am.

How do you control it when the people around you refuse to believe or understand what you go through? They yes you to death or say to your face that you’re lying about what you can and can’t control. Some of them want actual scientific proof. My sister would like a note from my Doctors listing what I should and should not be held responsible for.

I have never asked anyone to not hold me accountable for my actions. I do have cognitive issues, trauma issues, that sometimes leave me in state of fear. I may get defensive but I mostly cry too much. I can count how many times I have had outbursts. I do not think it’s a coincidence that I became worse as it got closer to the time I needed my stents changed. Since having them changed my dad has noticed a change in my mood. A change for the better. I still have a fever and an infection but at least the stents are working.

I do have triggers. I know I do. If someone wants to argue with me about AA, or how CBT and writing about their 5 year plan saved their life, then they might want to run in the other direction. I have serious issues with both of these issues. When a Therapist you are meeting for the first time after trying to kill yourself tells you that you need to start a journal of how you see yourself in 5 years, that Therapists needs said journal shoved up their said asses. (Excuse improper language)

If you have had really bad experiences with AA on more than one occasion, but someone still insists on shoving it down your throat knowing how you feel, then you are allowed to explode. They’ve been warned.

If there are sensitive subjects involving your mother’s death but one person insists on visiting her grave constantly and stirring up trouble, get your safety hat on. You were warned. Repeatedly. In writing.

The public and our own families think they know everything there is to know from Dr. Phil, Dr. Oz, Oprah, MSNBC, or some TV show that has a Bipolar character. They don’t. They never will. I’m tired of holding my breath waiting for them to get it. I’ll be dead before they do.

I thought my sister finally had when two Psychiatrists told her Bipolar Disorder is one of the worse illnesses to deal with. They wouldn’t wish it on anyone because of the way they see how their patients suffer. How a majority can’t find a balance and don’t make it. You think she would’ve understood things a little more. Because I am in that percentage that is predicted to “not make it”. Sometimes I find that to be a relief.


I have a constant need to explain to the people around me why I am the way I am. Some of them think they know all there is to know and have stopped listening. There are others who feel guilty and don’t want to talk about it.

I have said for a few years now that nothing is working. But recently I have also admitted some things about myself and the people I have blamed. Let me start with some useful information.


  1. Seroquel
  2. Brintellix
  3. Viibryd
  4. Latuda
  5. Saphris
  6. Cymbalta
  7. Abilify
  8. Lexapro
  9. Paxil
  10. Prozac
  11. Effexor
  12. Adderall
  13. Topamax
  14. Klonopin
  15. Ativan
  16. Celexa
  17. Trazodone
  18. Tramadol
  19. Buspar
  20. Rexulti

At this point I’m on a combo of Viibryd, Adderall, and Topamax. Is it working? Not really. I’m not exactly running to tell my Doctor so I can go through another process of horrendous side effects only to have the medication not work or make things worse.

  • 50 % of Bipolar Individuals who get to a place of some “normalcy” will relapse within 2 years.
  • Clinicians and Diagnosticians can’t agree on a standard definition of Treatment Resistant Bipolar Disorder even though it is often seen in practices.
  • The standard practice for medication with Bipolar Patients is to combine several medications.
  • There is no set standard on which medication to use first or the dosage.
  • Recent studies show that Treatment Resistant Bipolar Patients are at a much higher risk of suicide and 25% of them have an alcohol problem. (This was specific to just alcohol)

Confirming a diagnosis for these patients can take years. These patients do not volunteer information, are poor historians, and need constant direction. If manic they will have a lack of awareness, an inability to know the consequences of their behavior and sometimes show arrogance.

Only 2 medications have officially been approved by the FDA to specifically treat Bipolar Disorder. Seroquel and Symbyax ( Prozac with Zyprexa). Traditional antidepressants have little benefit for Bipolar Depression and may actually cause a switch to mania. Effexor, Cymbalta, and Pristiq have been known to cause this to happen.

Lithium with Lamictal are still considered to be the most effective.

Personally I can’t take Lithium because I only have one kidney. I also realized when reading this that I might have been viewing things the wrong way.

In earlier years when I was forced to go to Therapy or a Psychiatrist I was still drinking and in my late teens, early twenties. It’s possible I didn’t volunteer information or give an accurate history. Most likely I didn’t realize the consequences of my behavior either. I’ve blamed my late diagnosis on the Doctors but I may be responsible too.

If they had looked at my file and seen the drinking, erratic behavior, and read one or two of the forms I filled out it may have helped. There were questions about promiscuity, spending habits, sleep habits, if family and friends sometimes thought you were “too hyper”, and questions about depression that should have set off some red flags.

I’m willing to take some responsibility now. I’m also willing to try again. I don’t want to be estranged from my family. I’m sick of thinking that every time I interact with someone I later overthink it. I immediately think I bothered them, I talked too much, I was annoying, they couldn’t wait to get away from me. I then sit in my car and cry. This isn’t living it’s just existing. cc368620fd2cc6600e7206dcda6a7240



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