Last week, my doctor told me I won’t be seeing her anymore. This was expected, because she is a pediatric doctor, and she was a temporary replacement for my last doctor who just up and quit. It went well, I guess, with one caveat. She suggested I alter my drug routine. I SHOULD NEVER FUCK
It’s not too often that you read something knowing how awesome it’ll be before you read it. But I knew that when I recently got the Hyperbole and a Half book by Allie Brosh that I’d love it. (I had pre-ordered it months earlier.) I’ve read Allie’s blog for years, and so I already knew
As you can see from my last post, I had a bit of a stressful weekend. It was totally worth it, but now I have to deal with the fall out. The physical and emotional symptoms will continue for a few days yet, and having to deal with them is a challenge. Let’s start with
So, I’ve been tasked, for the third time, with filling out an assessment form. This is the kind of thing where you REALLY need to know where you are on these scales. The assessment has a lot of simple questions that have very complex answers. The questions include things, like : Do you have problems
To whom it may concern: You may be used to some “publications” occasionally being graced with letters from the “Editor.” This will not be so polite. I am the Jailor. I am the voice in Rory’s head that keeps him up at night, and the only reason he can sleep. I am the obsession, he
So, here is my second in a new series of responses to internet memes dealing with mental health. Enjoy: So, living with anxiety is something a lot of people with mental health issues have to deal with. For most, it fits into the normal routine. For a small percentage of us, we live our days
TRIGGER ALERT: This whole post is likely a trigger. Don’t read it if you are sensitive to such things. I’m so tired that I’m shaky. That doesn’t help what I have to deal with. Last time, back in late January, we spent the afternoon at the hospital, and checked him in at evening time. The
Sitting here, crying my eyes out, I wonder why I haven’t killed myself. I have dreamt, wished and planned. I have tried. But I’ve never succeeded, thankfully. But it occurs to me: Why am I not dead yet? It struck me today; I participate in the slowest, most painful form of suicide possible. Living. I
Everyone knows about mood swings. They are those awful, awful things that can take a grown man from glowing with pride to bawling of embarrassment all in one moment. But there’s more to mental illness, particularly Bipolar Disorder, than that. The worst thing of all is what I like to call “energy swings.” Energy swings
