Archive for April, 2018

When Seeking Treatment Is As Stressful As The Disorders

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression, Uncategorized with tags , , on April 30, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

So shrink appointment in 90 minutes and I am wound up like a clock. Have been for 2 days. And while I have had ‘appointment anxiety’ since I was a child seeing the pediatrician so I have to own my own neuroses.

Thing is,the last year at this psych center with all their changes and staffing issues and how difficult it is to communicate with the nurse or dr between appointments…

My anxiety is heightened to crippling levels.

And I just don’t think this is acceptable or professional on their part.

It is so difficult to seek mental heath treatment in the first place,every appointment or dealing should not be this stressful for a patient already maxed out on stress.

I’ve already been indulging Googleitus by looking up ways to talk honestly but firmly so I am heard.

God,reading that ‘I feel’ drivel makes me cringe. While 75% of the time I agree it is great to say ‘I feel’ instead of going postal with the ‘you make me feel’ thing that is never productive…

This psych center’s apathy, poor staffing,and all around messiness seems the perfect time for ‘YOU MAKE ME FEEL MORE ANXIOUS,STRESSED,DEPRESSED AND IGNORED AND IT PISSES ME OFF!’

Sometimes the best way to he heard and not brushed off is to get angry and stand up for yourself. If they feel it’s a personal attack,well,I think being kept on a med that made me suicidal for 3 weeks longer than necessary feels like a personal attack on me. Do no harm and all that.

But of course I will go in and stifle how truly disgusted I am with the whole operation because hey,I am a mental patient so no feelings I have are ever valid,just bipolar distortion.

You’d think it’d be as simple as change the doctor if it’s not working. Ha,in rural midwest with crapass insurance no one accepts…I am stuck with the den of ineptitude.

And it makes me sad cos this center used to be a decent place. Been going there 12 years,and they’ve never been able to keep help doctor wise more than a year or two,so staffing issues I’ve learned to deal with. At least they used to manage some semblance of competence and make me think they half ass cared about patients. Now…I have little faith in them and I’m stuck.

Getting help is supposed to be the easy part. You admit you need it finally,the rest is gravy.

In my case…this place has deteriorated into a car filled with clowns who’re too busy to even squirt me in the face with a water filled flower.

It is negligent to make a patient feel this much stress. It is despicable for them to not fix their staffing issues so no patient has to feel this way.

Your doctor’s office has a big problem if you start pondering going off your meds because dealing with their office is too stress inducing.

How Mental Health Issues Invalidate You

Posted in bipolar disorder, depression, Uncategorized with tags , , on April 29, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

One of the hallmarks of bipolar,whatever axis,is that we feel every emotion so deeply. Whereas everyone else’s emotions pour in from a small Blue tooth speaker, our feelings broadcast from a stack of amps that’d make Ozzfest seem like Manilow in an elevator.

Soo while trying to be self aware and keep this flood of emotion in check we are constantly invalidating ourselves because hey, we feel so much so intensely, how can we ever trust anything we are feeling?

I’ll be the first to admit that often, my emotions on any given topic or situation are out of proportion thus I am being fed improper signals at a deafening volume-but mental health issue or not…I am reacting to these wrong signals and reacting wrongly,I am stuck owning this.

Yet during these heightened emotional responses…my feelings are authentic,no matter how distorted or amplified. There is nothing insincere about the way I feel and truthfully,even if overreactive,I am having honest responses to what my mind insists are honest emotions.

It’s a catch 22 from Hell.

I see the shrink Monday and already my mind and body are twisting in knots. Because I am obligated to doubt and question myself and what I will say and in what tone I will use. I know mentioning their short staffing issues will put the doctor on the defensive. If I bring up the nurse’s failure to even inquire with insurance as for a change of meds,she will take offense and pf course,it will be on me.

For fuck’s sake!

I’d ask for advice from my occasional readers but that is as futile as dealing with the doctor. Now that even bowel movements have a ‘like’ button,there is no need to interact or ask for comments.

Besides,asking for even one person to even say ‘hang in there’ would be an emotional distortion on my part…let alone seeking someone,anyone,just one person to advise my social ineptitude on how to get the dr to pay attention to me without offending her and her staff(no matter how much they deserve it)…

I’ve already negated my own argument by letting the anxiety send me careening off topic…

And bonus,asking for or hoping for advice or input or support makes me loathe myself cos once upon a time,I didn’t need validated by others cos I wasn’t stuck with a mentally defective label or psycho analyzed to the point of constant self doubt…

Anyway…dr appt Monday,still depressed,still uber anxious,mega pissed at their ineptitude,completely at a loss on how to get my very dire feelings across without over distortion…

I miss being a manic promiscuous spending spree drunken irresponsible ‘crazy’ person.

Way more fun and same end result as getting treatment:feeling shitty about myself.

Fuck a fancy bag.

Mindfulness Is The Kardashian Of Mental Health Treatment

Posted in bipolar disorder, depression, Uncategorized with tags , , , , on April 28, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Oh,yes,I am back to bitch and moan and frankly,I don’t care who it offends. My triggers are many but the last couple of years…the term ‘mindful’ sets me off just as much as the colors orange and red have triggered me since I woke with my apartment building on fire 18 years ago. I try to ignore it,try to not engage the trigger,try to deny it is a trigger.

But it is a mega trigger that makes my blood boil.

Sooo many blogs about mental health the last couple of years have become havens for buzz word ‘mindfulness’. Of course, mindfulness is the new black.

It’s a mindless trend in psych treatment, getting its moment in the sun same as all the other trending treatments over the years. Cognitive,exposure,rapid eye movement desensitization,visualization…

The professionals have NO clue what they are doing so every few years they change therapies. It’s no better than which Kardashian is trending today for what utterly inane reason.

Bringing me to another trigger- the all new labeling of mental health disorders as ‘behavioral health’. That one makes me feel stabby.

I am glad for people who have had good results with cbt, the eye movement spiel,the ‘immerse yourself in what you fear to heat your fear’ and mindfulness. Great for you!

Thing is,I’ve been in treatment for 32 years and the treatment trends come and go. As soon as you find what works, the trend changes. And for those like me who all but walk on hot coals and use leeches to suck out our depression and anxiety…

Trendy treatments are futile and downright insulting.

And by the way,as much as I really want to be supportive of and happy for others who are on the mend…

‘Cured/managed’ mental health patients can grate on my nerves as much as hypocritical former smokers who kicked it and suddenly are so great in their own mind.

You should savor feeling better but don’t forget what it’s like on the other side of the fence where no miracles are happening.

Be MINDFUL that while you are doing better and now you have all this great clarity about how awful you once felt and now you feel great,wow,what a complaining loser I used to be…

Some of us aren’t there yet. Some of us simply aren’t trending with sunshine spewing mindfulness…and that’s ok.

Trends come and go. I want my treatment to work and stick around.

But hey,that’s just my opinion and while I stand by it…use leeches,hot coal walks, snort Sea Monkeys. Do what works for you.

Just don’t be shocked if I hear the term ‘mindful’ and start looking all stabby.

We all have our stuff and that godawful trendy term…makes me want to locate sharp objects.

Now back to your all important previously scheduled top ten trending topics. Hey,maybe one of the Kardashians are using mindfulness leech therapy.

Benzo Withdrawal Has Nothing On Stopping Antidepressants

Posted in depression, Uncategorized with tags , , , on April 25, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

I’ve officially hit day 7 coming off Effexor. It had been mildish until the last couple of days. Now I feel loopy,uncoordinated,woozy,off balance, sleepy yet wired. And let us not forget to mention the wondermous ‘brain zaps’ that come with quitting SSRI’s,SNRI’s,all the alphabet soupy med classes.

For those unfamiliar with the brain zap phenomenon…it’s a bit like having a joy buzzer planted deep in your brain and as you come off the medication and the levels in your system lower and lower..,some sadistic prankster keeps shaking hands with your brain in random ninja attacks you never see coming, ZAP ZAP. Oh,it’s gone a-w- zapzapzapZAP.

Talk about disconcerting. And I’ve had it coming off 99% of the antidepressants I have been on over the last 25 years. Tapering off only helps so much,no matter what the doctor’s say. The withdrawal symptoms still come,and it can take months for some to totally stop a medication,the withdrawal is so bad. (Read a few mental health forums on the subject and depression starts looking better an option than stopping the meds to treat it.)

I guess in some ways,I am ‘lucky’. I got in on the antidepressant fun train back in the 90’s, long before the pharma companies and psych docs even knew these meds could cause withdrawal. My first cold turkey med withdrawal was…ZAPZAPZAP. Effexor. My brain trust shrink told me,after being on it over a year,just stop taking it.

That went soo well for me! In addition to the brain zaps, assorted physical and mental chaos,for the first time in my life..,I started having visual and auditory hallucinations. I was walking around with a knife in hand,convinced someone was in the house. I slept for a week with that knife under my pillow.

Finally I realized I was really losing my shit so I called the shrink,who of course,wasn’t available. Just my lucky night cos the new school doc on call was horrified my old school doc didn’t taper me off Effexor. He was genuinely concerned and validated my symptoms and guided me through coming down in dose over a couple of weeks.

Effexor and Cymbalta are the two worst I have had to withdraw from. Ideally I would have tapered Effexor this time but withdrawal is better than suicidal thoughts. I just want it over with,get this shit out of my system. Which by all half life accounts,after a week, I should have it out of my system.

And that is the problem. These antidepressants don’t linger but your brain chemicals still cry out for them,whether they helped or hurt. Zap zap zap,give us our poison,we neeed it.

I have quit Xanax,Klonopin,Ativan,Temazepam, cold turkey,more times than I want to count (money or availability reasons) and there was no benzo withdrawal worse or even as bad as coming off an anti depressant. It’s not like that for everyone but that’s been my experience.

When you hear ‘withdrawal’ you get images of some shaky dirty street person jonesing for a hit of whatever happy toxin gets them by. They’re all sweaty and filthy and they just want their fix,they’d kill a newborn puppy for that fix.

But antidepressant withdrawal is nothing like that. It’s your brain zapping and telling you something that was there is gone and it needs it back or it can’t stop zapping you or making you feel out of sorts. There is no desire for it, we don’t get a high from it,we’re not in some alley ready to harm puppies to get that next 20 mg of Prozac or whatever…but we’re still suffering a process that is as grueling and we’re doing it to help ourselves get away from poison pills.

With the hell of coming off anti-deps you’d think none of us would ever risk it by taking another one ever again.

It’s a catch 22 served on a flaming hot platter from hell. When tbe meds work,they are worth any risk. When they fail, you reach the point of wishing for death instead of 6 weeks of brain zap withdrawal.

The true meaning of courage and optimism is the willingness to keep putting yourself through it because you have so much faith that you *will* find that magic cocktail and live happily ever after.

Or ya know,live several months feeling pretty content before yet another med quits on you.

When 20 plus meds have quit on you but you keep riding that medi-go-round…does that make me brave and optimistic or just a self loathing masochist?

Ask me in 4 weeks when (hopefully) the brain zaps have stopped.

Life Won’t Stop Kicking Me When I’m Already Down

Posted in depression, Uncategorized with tags , , , on April 23, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Brief rant as I hear my phone data ticking away…

So life decided I should spend the last two days with the hellish trifecta of PMS and cramps, the dizziness and brain zaps of Effexor withdrawal,oh,AND the stomach flu. I loved being doubled over in stomach agony while running to sit on the toilet every 15 minutes yesterday.

For my relief from that misery…dad and his faction showed up to mow the enormous lawn, then told me to get out there and pick up twigs and such to help. Knowing full well I was ill and bending down resulted in even more trips to the bathroom. To treat me further,dad decided to start a small fire to burn the twigs and leaves which filled the yard and house with black smoke that choked me…AND burned so fast and up a tree, I was ordered to fetch buckets of water cos his lil ‘yard cleaning’ favor nearly burned so high it reached power lines.

I really prayed for death or at least a fucking meteor to crash into me. Anything to make the noise,the smoke,the stomach churning worse than labor pains,the mowers,them screaming at each other,oh,and the Effexor withdrawal random brain zaps that are so sudden and severe,they nearly cause me to collapse.

I was so sick,I texted my sister to bring my kid home,no way was I gonna make a 30 mile round trip in the condition I was in. If I pass up a trip out of Armpit,resulting in being trapped here 7 days straight til next required trip…I ain’t faking it or dramatizing it.

I managed to get my kid fed and bathed and to bed then fell head first into my own bed. Only to wake at 2 a.m. and not nod off again til 5,where the paralyzing dreams took over and by the time the alarm went off and I hit snooze three times…I didn’t want to wake up even to escape the terrifying dreams that feel like I am awake yet unable to move a muscle thus setting off panic…

Then my kid tells me she’s sick and due to her cry wolf syndrome I was skeptical but then she started barfing everywhere…and howling with constipation pain.

And I don’t even have $5 to buy her something to help her and even if I did,it would involve a 20 mile trip to town with a projectile vomiting child in tow…

So she is home today and while I am feeling 75% better than wishing for death,I am not quite recovered myself. Still here I am, cleaning up puke, bathing her and washing it out of her hair,washing everything she has spewed on…while the panic rises over every trickle of electricity and water used jacking up bills I can barely pay as is…

I’m fucking salty about it,damn straight. 2018 has not given me one break,one good thing. Just kick in the teeth after kick. It is amazing with the level of anxiety and depression I’ve been handling since long before the move due to my psych center’s staffing issues and ineptitude…a less strong person would be in a padded room or six feet under.

I haven’t ruled either out yet.


My kid and I are decent people. We deserve a damned break. It isn’t self pity. It is frustration and honest to goodness bafflement why we can’t get one good thing in our lives. I’d settle for enough money for internet. A competent shrink,a med that doesn’t make me worse.

Anything positive,God knows I am fighting so hard to make this move work for my kid’s sake.

What I get instead is burying 5 kittens last week,being triple sick,and feeling utterly useless cos I can’t even help my ill child feel better.

There comes a point where you have done everything in your power to help yourself and you just need to catch a damn break.

Wanting a decent shrink isn’t like I am asking for a sports car,for fuck’s sake.

Just. One. Damn. Positive. Thing, for the love of pegacorn.

(*Possible Trigger*) Effexor Made Me Have Suicidal Thoughts

Posted in depression with tags , , , , on April 21, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Well, I’ve been unusually silent due to the fact that without wifi, my only connection to the internet is through data on my phone, which, ha ha, costs money. Sad I can’t even afford a couple of ten dollar Tracfone data cards, but it is what it is. I’ve been saving what little data I have just to ‘feel’ connected to the world outside Armpit, Midwest but alas…the thoughts have piled up and I must purge. The paper journal ain’t cutting it, my hand cramps up too fast.

So yeah, six weeks on Effexor, three dose increases, and I got WORSE. Actually started having suicidal thoughts. Little voices (not the hallucination kind, just the depressive whispers) telling me I am a failure, a fuck up, useless, hopeless, should just do the world and my kid a favor and end it already. This freaked me out, because no matter how bad things have gotten over my years and battles with mental health issues…suicidality has never been my baseline. Kids in school used to think it was funny to tell me to do the world a favor and kill myself so instead of suicide being an option, it became the fuel that kept me fighting. The desire to defy those cruel jerks and prove I am worthwhile, I am stronger than that. So imagine my disgust when after the hellish 4 months without a psych appointment, the move, all the changes, and I wasn’t this bad off then…now I get medicated and suddenly I want to off myself?

NOPE. And it’s common, read the inserts from the pharmacy. Anti depressants can often worsen depression, heighten anxiety, and cause suicidal thoughts.

After weeks of playing phone tag with the doctor’s office and her useless guard dog nurse who just kept harping on ‘stick with the Effexor, insurance won’t pay to change the medication until you’ve maxed out on the doseage.” Which I found could go over 200 mg. No way I was gonna make it three weeks til my appointment with increases and worsening depression. I TOLD HER I WAS GETTING WORSE and she just blew me off.

I was further disgusted and infuriated because I called the prescription insurance company ready to tear someone a new one..only to be told MY DOCTOR’S OFFICE HAD NEVER MADE A SINGLE INQUIRY ABOUT CHANGING MY MEDICATION, LET ALONE WHETHER IT WOULD BE COVERED.

That’s bloody well malpractice.

I went off Effexor cold turkey. Four hellish days feeling like death warmed over with blinding headaches, nausea, stomach aches, brain zaps. But I couldn’t keep putting it in my body when it was causing me to have thoughts that simply aren’t a part of my history. I have pondered another futile attempt to call the dr office, but I will shunted to the nurse, when she thinks to call back, and round and round we will go on the max out your dose. I don’t even know she told the doctor I was getting worse instead of better. If she had, the doctor, I’d like to think, would NEVER have kept me on it, insurance be damned.

I feel like I’ve been abandoned by the very people who are supposed to do no harm and help me. It doesn’t help when I read shit on line like “depression is a cage, you hold the key, you have to ask for help.” What the hell is it I have been doing, for fuck’s sake? I am all but bleeding in their damn waiting room. God, I didn’t think it got worse than the old osteopath ‘only three meds belong on the psych formulary’ or doc nurse. Was I wrong. And I can’t blame the doctor. The nurse is the gatekeeper. The doctor was the one who told me to call if the Effexor hadn’t made a dent by week 5. The nurse is the one shoving the insurance thing down my throat and she never even tried to find out if I’d be covered, nor did she suggest I call to find out. I did that on my own and while it took 4o minutes and was frustrating because they need to know what med I need approved but without the doctor signing off, I can’t really say so I just told them Cymbalta was one I’d had good results with. Guess what? It’s covered up to six doses a day without prior authorization. I am suffering because my doctor’s office is too apathetic and lazy to bother finding this out.

So I quit Effexor and it’s taken days, but I no longer want to die. I prefer sleep and weird dreams over being awake because my mind is so dark and I am so hopeless and anxious…but I don’t want to harm myself and I don’t believe I am a lost cause. This isn’t situational just because we had to move to a place I don’t particularly like. It’s really not Armpit’s fault that I have issues cos I grew up in a tiny rural town that nearly broke me mentally. The house is nicer, the stuff we’ve gotten, while used, is nicer, no one bothers us, my kid has friends (even though she’s gone from an A plus student to C’s, my god, wtf was the old school doing, purposely churning out subpar students?)…This goes so far beyond situational. And it existed long before we even learned our lives were being upended and we’d have to move.

I don’t know if Cymbalta will help. And I should bang my head against a wall by calling the dr office again and going through the nice but utterly useless nurse but…I am barely ten days from seeing the doc face to face and I’d just rather keep struggling and deal with her than have that nurse blow me off yet again. Now that I don’t feel like harming myself (and yes, I truly believe it was the Effexor and they’re not gonna convince me otherwise cos hey, I stopped it and now I’m not in that headspace.) So I will wait, continue getting that nasty shit out of my system. Anti depressant withdrawal is hell. Effexor is one of the worst. I should have tapered but I didn’t think I could risk keeping the bad thoughts around. I don’t advise cold turkey but then again, I seem to be pretty alone in how ineffective and inept my psychiatric healthcare is. Well, no, that’s not really true, it’s pretty widespread, but most of the people on wordpress I’ve talked to are quite happy with their mental health team so..yeah, I feel pretty alone here.

My kid is sleeping over at my mom’s for the first time in weeks since dad’s faction have been so controlling and pretty much taken her over every weekend. The fact I could tell my dad to piss off at 16 when I lived under his roof and depended on him for everything yet now I am so beaten down, at 45, I can barely bring myself to speak up because all he does is yell and criticize and I am in no shape for it right now. It fills me with self disgust but thing is…I will rise from the ashes and I will reclaim my identity and stop being their punching bag.

Without the chaos of my kid and her playmates, I am both calmer and yet, not, because my kid is at least 14 miles away from me and if the dark thoughts return and I don’t have her to remind me why I am fighting so hard…I know it sounds messed up. I am not helicopter mom, I have no desire to make her dependent and stay with me forever. But depression distorts what you really think and feel and you end up here. Feeling like it’s invasion of the mind snatchers and this husk left behind looks like you, but sure as hell doesn’t feel like who you’ve been your whole life.

So…I could rant further but I hear the data on my phone ticking away and I can’t get more for awhile so…this is what’s going on and this is where I am at right now. I really wish I could cook up a positive post for y’all cos I, too, am sick of this blog’s state as Bummerpalooza but hey, no one forces anyone to read it so…I’m just gonna tell my truth no matter how much of a bummer it is. If you don’t want ugly truth, you probably shouldn’t read blogs about depression.

I wish I could opt out of feeling depression and writing about it but that isn’t a luxury life gave me.

The Bipolar Two Depression Files

Posted in bipolar depression, depression, Uncategorized with tags , , on April 13, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

After a glorious mental state yesterday when the weather relented from 7 months of fall and winter drudgery and my soul was able to come out and play…

Today’s lower temperature,gloom,and rain has me reeling. I am grasping at straws,trying to reclaim yesterday’s frame of mind but it’s proving to be an epic fail.

I find it frustrating to the nth that bipolar two and bipolar depression are viewed as ‘less severe’ than bipolar one and manic episodes. Mania may have helped me ruin my credit score and inspired poor choices but it NEVER cost me as much as the so called ‘less severe’ bipolar two depressive bouts.

Further aggravating us how few medications there are that target bipolar two depression. Aside from Latuda (bad bad experience for me,but kudos to pharmacopia making an effort at treating axis two), I don’t know of any other drug specified for axis two depression. That leaves bipolar two patients floundering on an endless diet of anti depressants NOT designed for our condition. If a med isn’t targeting the disorder you have, doesn’t it make sense that you’d experience med failures? It’s like taking a painkiller for swelling that doesn’t actually reduce that symptom.

As much as I am not a fan of her music,I do hope that Mariah Carey’s recent ‘disclosure’ about her battle with bipolar two opens some eyes and minds to the red headed stepchild of mental health disorders. So much focus is spent on axis one that axis two patients are left behind.

Personally, I think treating mania in any bipolar axis is far simpler than treating depression. There is a plethora of mood stabilizers that can be combined to control excess mood swings and mania. Now this is not me saying bipolar one is less severe,but on a whole with targeted medications with great efficacy…it’s not as much a roll of the dice as it is with anti depressants.

And while big pharma has spent thirty years churning out an anti depressant to match your every depressive outfit…They do not target those of us who spend 80% of our lives in depressive bouts.

On this one,I think all bipolar axis patients can agree. Finding the most effective ‘cocktail’ of anti depressant and mood stabilizer is frustrating and often defeating. We all have unique chemistry so who knows what med or combo will work for each of us? Trial and error becomes a way of life. And this is without factoring in how many of us are medication resistant or the meds just quit working or the side effects are so bad we simply can’t take those drugs.

I have lost so much of my life to depression. And while Lamictal has been my wonder drug toward warding off extreme mood swings and manic bouts-there are times I also think I’m too stabilized. Because to control the negative symptoms, it also mashes down creativity, sheer elation,and the ability to be spontaneous. It makes me so hyper self aware that even choosing what to eat becomes a case of ‘remember when you went manic that time and ate *this* and then spent three hundred bucks on lottery tickets then banged that guy you didn’t even like?’ Not that I have the problem of excess income anymore nor the self esteem to even put myself out there to repeat the poor choices but still…therapy made me so hyper self aware that even though my mood stabilizer works great…I am still scarred by past choices and even memory of a food eaten or a song playing at that time can paralyze me.

It sounds nutty but it is my truth.

Still…when manic I LIVED life to the fullest. On my multiple shovel fulls of fixer upper pills…I live in fear of living lest I repeat bad choices just to feel alive. Because then I’d have to admit the problem is me,my personality,my inability to make good choices. And I just don’t believe that because mood stabilizers made the truly had decisions go away. It just also makes me scared to live life on rare non depressive times.

Having said all of this,painting the good,bad,and ugly about bipolar two treatment (medications designed to keep you from suicidal thoughts yet causes more than you ever had before,very ugly)…It is high time the mental health community-doctors,therapists,patients,mental health advocates-we need to band together and shine a spotlight on bipolar two and bipolar depression. Our condition is NOT less severe to us. We matter. We deserve better targeted medication options,we are worthy of competent care even if we don’t have great insurance. WE MATTER.

Now in an effort to bolster my sagging mental state and the sadness of losing a newborn kitten 36 hours after his birth (rest well,lil Beebee)…

Spook and I watched a Jack Hannah adventure show this morning. It highlighted some venomous but gorgeous snakes…then came the awe factor. Sloths. They are so adorable. That gave me warm fuzzies during the 7 minute segment. I got clobbered with a high power bill so I am keeping the heat down much as I can…but I was still cold so I put on my fluffy soft purple hoodie. I feel warm and swaddled now.

So I can see positive things here and there in spite of my seemingly endless ‘everything sucks’ griping. It is just very difficult to see the good when enveloped by the spider web of depression.

Besides. No one wants to read a mental health blog that spews rainbows. They read to know they are not alone in their struggles so I focus on writing about my own battle and my wish to heighten awareness of bipolar depression.

It is only less severe if it isn’t happening to you.

When it ruins your life at every turn…We find that pretty severe. Time for the professionals and society recognize this.

Because we matter and no matter your diagnosis…the struggle is real.