One Way or Another

It's happened ... I am at the lowest I've been since being diagnosed in 1994. I am at rock bottom, and my will, desire, drive, dedication, hygiene, cleanliness, caring ... all gone. I desperately need help.

Saw my pDoc today, and he said he would put me on Seroquel ... a med I took nearly 12 years ago, and then was taken off. Another pill ... you have got to be kidding me. I am currently on 9 psychotropics, and to answer a desperate plea by adding another doesn't seem right to me. I went into his office expecting hospitalization, or at the very least, IOP (Intense Out Patient), but he never brought it up ... until I did.

Near the end of the 10 minute meeting, I said I thought simply adding another med wasn't the answer. He had added one two weeks earlier, and it made no difference. I told him I needed help, and I needed it now. His secretary had informed me two days earlier that they were looking for me to go into the IOP, but he never brought it up. As a matter of fact, I don't even think he would have thought of it until I mentioned that I thought that was what this meeting was for.

This secretary called a local program, they called, and I am supposed to call tomorrow morning to pursue this possibility.

I need help before I hurt myself, something or someone else. If I can't get the help I need this way, I'll force their hand. One way or another, I'll get it.

Where Did All The Fun Go?

Where did all of the fun go? Being mentally ill used to be so much fun; the highs (and lows, unfortunately), the extremes, in spending, indulging, self-abuse. Waking up not knowing what the day might bring; will I get mad, dad, even, aggressive, depressed, suicidal. Will you hurt your friends and family, will you burn relationship bridges, will you make a fool of yourself during a manic episode? Who knows?

After a while, the fun wears off. It's no longer exciting and fresh; now you know what to expect, becuse it always turns out the same. The only variable is how high you go, and how far you crash. Once you realize this, and the disease becomes real, you become one of us. (Actually you always have been, it's just that now you finally realize it)

Winston Churchill

YOU ARE MENTALLY ILL

You're in good company with the likes of:

            Abraham Lincoln     
            Buzz Aldrin  

            Jimi Hendrix   
            Plato    
            Mark Twain

            Winston Churchill     
            Patty Duke   

            Vincent Van Gogh     
            Virginia Woolf 

            Wolfgang Amadeus Motzart      
            Richard Dreyfus         

            Hans Christian Anderson     
                                                            Sir Isaac Newton                        

So raise your banner high and, when you aren't able, be with those who can raise it for you. NAMI, DBSA, Psych Central and MD Junction are a few I visit regurlarly. They can give great volume to your voice.

Remember, you're in this with many others. Your not alone. You never are. Ever.