Mental Illness: For the First Time in Years I’m Happy….

I don’t know where to start. The last month has been a life changing experience. As I said in the title I’m happy, which is an emotion I never thought I could attain. For over a year, my life was shrouded in darkness. For over  a year, I was a prisoner of depression and agoraphobia. For over a year I lost sight of my future, my potential, my existence and the thought of hope. And yet here I sit, basking in the warmth of happiness.

Everyday I wonder if my state of happiness is real. Thus far my answer is yes. Not only am I happy, I’m also sober. I reached 6 months of sobriety last week, which is the longest stretch of sobriety in over 8 years. In the past I hated getting sober. I would spend most of my time thinking about getting high and as result I became a nervous wreck. Eventually I would give into my addiction and start using again.

This time, however, is different. I want to be sober. I want to have a happy life that is not is shackled by pain killers and weed. I want to be able to think and emote and have a stable life. Something that is not possible while using drugs. For the first time in my life I’m happy to be sober.

Not only am I sober and happy, I have finally friends. For most of my life I’ve been friendless. I was always the odd kid, who was loud and friendly. But no one cared or gave a shit about me. And when I finally found a “friend,” they either abused me or perpetuated my drug use. As a result, I never thought I would find a true friend. But I was wrong. About a month ago I started going to a support group and although I was nervous they accepted me. Before I knew it I was texting them, calling them and going out with various members of the group. It’s an amazing experience to be able to confide in someone else and to know that they will be there for me when I’m struggling (and I will be there for them).

So there you have it, a brief post on my progress to happiness. However, there is a lot of work that needs to be done before I can consider myself “stable.”  In the coming weeks I hope I will be able to write and post as I miss everyone who has commented on my blog. I hope you are all well and I look forward to conversing with you once again.

Well that is all for now,

Dave.

My Life is Ruled by Obsessions and I can’t Stop Them!

Every time I think I have something under control another problem arises. About two weeks ago my psychiatrist put me on lamictal for depression and as a replacement for Seroquel. I had been on Seroquel for over two years and at my peak I was taking 900mg a day. The problem was that the side effects became unbearable. In fact, it got so bad that I lost my short term memory and my motivation. This made it almost impossible to converse with other people because in the middle of speaking I would forget what I was talking about and struggle to remember basic words. During this period I would spend hours doing nothing, staring at my computer screen in a complete daze. This period of  my life lasted for over three months, until I realized that Seroquel was the cause of my problems. When I dropped my dosage, the side effects began to disappear and eventually my short term memory returned. However, another problem arose- depression. By decreasing my  Seroquel, I no longer had the ability to control my depression and as a result, I fell into dark emotional hole.

Fast forward six months and my psychiatrist and I finally found a way to stop the depression: lamictal. As I noted above I have been on lamictal for about two weeks and amazingly it has reduced my depression. I no longer feel the deep dread and mental darkness that had consumed me for the last six months. Instead I am now consumed by extreme anxiety and OCD. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me, because every time I cure one problem another one arises and it’s driving me fucking crazy. Everyday I do the exact same thing (more after the picture):

(http://knowocd.wordpress.com/)

I wake up between 5 and 7 pm (I sleep during the day and stay up at night), roll up my blanket, put my chairs away (i’m afraid to sleep in my bedroom, so I sleep on a chair in my living room) and put my blanket in another room. I then make a cup of coffee,  turn on laptop and sit down. I first log into my blog and bemoan the fact that I  no longer  write, I beat myself up for being a waste of space and then close my blog in disgust. Next I search for Kotaku (a video game website) and from there I start reading their articles, which usually sends me to other articles on other sites.  For the next 5-6 hours I read countless articles, journals and papers on a wide range of topics, the only time I leave is to go to the bathroom or make a cup of coffee. I forgot, about 2 hours into my reading, I realize that I have yet to take my pills, so I search for my trileptal (a mood-stabilizing drug that  is also used for anti-convulsion)  and subutex (a generic semi-synthetic opioid used to stop my cravings for pain killers) which is taken sublingual and dissolves in one hour. During that time I am still reading. After six hours of reading and 5 cups of coffee, I realize that I have wasted most of the early evening and I start beating myself up. As I do everyday, I complain to myself that I spend way to much time on the internet when I could be doing other things. This usually goes on for 20 minutes, during which I get dressed to go out and get food.

By this time it’s usually 12:30 or 1 am. There is only one restaurant that is open, Alerto’s Mexican food.  They only take cash, so I have to go to 7-11 to buy a breakfast bar and receive cash back. I then race across the street, enter the drive through and order a burrito, a cheese quesadilla and a torta. I pull up to the window and hand the money to teller making sure I do not make eye contact. I’m to scared to look someone I don’t know in the eyes. Out side of saying thank you, I do not speak to the teller, it is way to scary to make small talk. About 10 minutes later I receive my food, race home, wash my dishes, make another cup of coffee, put out towels in front of my computer, turn on netflix and watch a TV show while eating. When I finish eating, I throw everything away and return to watching my show. When the show ends I have two options, continue watching the show for the rest of the night or play video games. The decision is usually based on how depressed I am- if I’m extremely depressed I watch TV.  This goes on till around 7:30 am, at which time I realize I have to go to be.

This is where the next obsession starts. I turn off my computer.  I then collect all of medication bottles place them in a circle on my desk, in front of my computer. I then go to the bathroom, wipe the grease off my face, complain that I don’t brush my teeth, which then causes me to beat myself up again. After a few minutes, I collect my clothes which are on my floor, go into my bedroom, put on some shorts, exit my bedroom and walk towards my table. I then make sure everything is in its right place. I then go to the oven and make sure every dial is set at off, where the line goes evenly through the word off, because if its not perfect then I am convinced it will  turn on while I’m  asleep and I will suffocate and die. From there, I make sure every object on all of my counters are in the right spot, because if  they are not I’m afraid they will fall and if I have to go to the bathroom I will trip on them, fall, break my neck and die. I then go back into my bedroom and get my blanket. Afterwards I check the window in my bedroom, making sure its in the right place because if it’s not, then someone will break in and slit my throat while I’m sleeping.  I then make my way out of my bedroom and recheck everything I had previously checked, because if I don’t I will die.

From there, I go to my front door, check spend the next 10 minutes checking my door knob,  making sure the door is  really locked, because if it’s  not perfect someone will break in and slit my throat. From there I check my blinds, over and over and over again, making sure they are perfect, because if they are not someone will break in. Finally, I make my way to my chair, fall into it and pass out.

As you can see, all of my obsessions revolve around the fear that someone or something will kill me. Because of that, I do the same exactly thing everyday, in the exact same way.

My life is completely fucked. I’m sorry about the really really long post, but I needed to talk about this, because everything seems to be falling apart. The reason why I was able to motivate myself to post is because I spilled coffee all over my laptop. Its fucking dead, I killed another fucking laptop and I don’t know why I keep doing this.  My life is completely ruled by my obsessions and they won’t stop.

Dave.

Manic Depressive Illness: A guide to Caring for Introverts

I stumbled across this on facebook and thought it would be great to share on this blog, especially after my last post. This is definitely a great list and it really does represent the introvert.

(http://www.facebook.com/TheIntrovertEntrepreneur)

The following is my response to this chart on facebook, I thought I should re-post it on this blog, as an extension/continuation of my last post:

“What makes me happy is that, introversion is becoming a popular topic, for the longest time introverts were seen as “abnormal,” but with the increase in memoirs, blogs and discussion, introversion is slowly being accepted. What I hope is that introverts will no longer have to hide their nature and act like extroverts. This is something I have struggled with most of my life.

For the longest time I convinced myself I wasn’t introverted-I pushed myself in school, I did pr work for the football team at whittier college, I worked for president of the school, I worked at a labor union, I was a front desk agent at a hotel, I worked in politics and I also did telemarketing. Each of these jobs required me to be extroverted, to be the most vocal, outgoing person you could meet. The problem was that when I got home I was so drained and so depressed that my mental stability began to crumble.

To compensate, I started smoking weed and using pain killers because they provided me with the ability to become extroverted- to be able to make new friends, conduct presentations in front of hundreds of people, talk to random strangers and present myself as this alpha extrovert.

As you can most likely see, this did not end very well. In fact, it go so bad that I ended up in a psych ward/detox. I have finally realized that I am not an extrovert. It has taken me months upon months, to accept that fact. And what worries me, is that so many other introverts are going through same struggles.”

I hope this  makes sense, I’m about to fall over from exhaustion. It might be 6:53am, but to me it’s my nighttime. In an effort to avoid contact with other people, I stay up all night and sleep during the day. I’ve been doing this for a few months now, and unfortunately I have become used to this schedule. Although I have made a lot of progress, I’m still scared to be around other people. It really drives me nuts because I hate being alone.

I hope you are all doing well,

Dave.

The Confusing Life of an Introvert & Why it is so Dangerous to Force Ourselves to Become Extroverts

For the longest time, I tried to convince myself I was an extrovert.  In high school, I talked with everyone. I didn’t have many friends, but I had hundreds of acquaintances. Every day I would walk onto my high school campus and talk with as many people as I could. I would shake their hands, ask them how they were doing, what they were studying and what their future plans were. I loved the feeling of acceptance and the fact that I could “relate” with most of my classmates. It was an amazing rush, to be acknowledged by everyone. In fact by the time I graduated, I knew almost everyone on campus. However, there was a major problem.

I was really suffering inside.

By the time I got home, I was so mentally drained that I wouldn’t be able to do anything. I would go to my room and spend hours and hours by myself.  And that was the problem, I was always alone. It didn’t matter how many hands I shook, or how friendly I was to everyone- in “reality” no one at school really cared about me. When school was over, I would be alone. No one ever called me, no one ever asked me to go to a party or to study with them, or go to a movie or to a fair. Yes I had two friends, but even they ended up leaving me.  By the time I was a sen,or in high school I had no friends.  When school ended, David was just another loner who everyone ignored. I know that life is a two-way street, and that I could have called some of classmates- but the problem was that, I was introverted. I was scared to talk on the phone, I was scared of going to parties, I was scared of  ”hanging” out with other people. However, I had convinced myself that the reason why I was “alone” was because no one cared about me.

(http://barbaralayla.blogspot.com/2010/07/misunderstanding-introverts-part-one.html)

As I noted above, that is not true. Unfortunately, I had convinced myself that I was an extrovert, but in “reality” I was an introvert. It has taken me years and countless fuck ups to realize that I’m an introvert. In college, I tried to make myself the life of the party. I started drinking heavily, I went to parties, I was “friends” with the football team and I always had alcohol with me. The problem was, I did not fit in. The football players made fun of me, messed with my head and treated me like utter shit when I was really drunk. But I didn’t care, I thought that meant I was part of the “football” group. It got so bad that I almost ended killing myself.

(warning the following is very graphic and might contain triggers) There was this party that I attended. I was already drunk when I got there, but I was so desperate to fit in that I started drinking even more. There were no clean cups, so I just picked up a random red cup that had been tossed on the ground. I went to one of the kegs and poured myself a drink, and then another, and then another, and then another. It was around that time someone walked up to me with a gallon of tequila. I was feeling “daring” at that moment, so I took the bottle and started chugging. About a minute later I stopped. I had consumed half the bottle. The other guy was impressed, but told me to be careful. I really didn’t care because I was having “fun.”

I stumbled towards the backyard and found a group of people drinking a bottle of jagermeister. I was intrigued, so I grabbed the bottle and started chugging. It was horrible tasting- warm, thick and sweet. But I just kept drinking until I finished it. Handing the bottle back to the group, I stumbled towards the house. Once inside, I tried dancing, but all I ended up doing was falling over. One of my “friends” came over to me, lauged at me for being so drunk and tore my shirt and punched me. I was pissed, but I was so drunk I  couldn’t do anything about it. So I walked outside and found another group to “hang out” with. Someone in the group slapped my back, I stumbbled a bit

and then I found myself in my bed covered in vomit. It was the next morning.

I had a splitting headache. Pushing myself up, I realized that I had vomit all over me. My sink was filled with vomit, my shoes were filled vomit and half my room was destroyed. At that point I  realized I had blacked out. It was about 10 pm when the black out started and I woke up around 9:30 am the next morning. I don’t know how I survived that night. Not only did I have alcohol poisoning, but I vomited while sleeping and luckily I didn’t choke on it.

(http://pleated-jeans.com/2011/11/07/extrovert-vs-introvert/)

This was one of the worst experiences of my life. In fact this is the first time I have written or thought about it in 7 years. As a result of my desperate attempt to be extroverted, I made a complete ass of myself, destroying most of my “friendships” because of my actions that night, as well as almost killing myself. As a result of the psychological trauma I had experienced, I never went out again. In fact, I spent the rest of that school year in my dorm room (I was in a single), only leaving to go to class or to get food.

Unfortunately, this was the first of many tramatic experiences I put myself through, because I was still convinced that I was an extrovert. In fact, one of the main reasons I started abusing pain killers was because they allowed me to become an extrovert. It truly amazes me, how desperate I was to be an extrovert. And I know I am not the only one. There are a tremendous amount of introverts in this world and if we are too survive, we need to be better understood. Yes, there has been a lot more attention placed on the plight of introverts, but that is not enough. Our world, unfortunately has been built for extroverts and until we can accept the fact that not everyone is an extrovert and that introverts are not deficient, maybe we can finally start healing the psychological wounds.

I want to end this post with a few questions: How many of you are introverts? And what has your life been like? (experiences, struggles, addictions etc)  Or how many of you are extroverts and what is your opinions of introverts?

That is all I can write at the moment, but I hope you are all doing well

Dave.

P.s I am looking for guest bloggers, so if you are intrested please email me at: manicdepressiveblog@yahoo.com I am also interested in writing guest blog posts for other sites.

Manic Depressive Illness- Avoidance, Panic Attacks and Lack of Motivation

This has been one strange week. I have been avoiding my life, escaping into video games and TV shows, hoping that the world would just go away. I was afraid to write, I was afraid to go outside and I was afraid to live. My anxiety has been at an all-time high, causing me to think irrationally- I thought the whole world was out to get me (I do take a med for anxiety, however, it doesn’t always work), so I just quit functioning. As a result, I stopped doing the one thing that makes me happy: writing.

I guess I overwhelmed myself, I thought I was ready to start another blog and expand my writing, but in doing so I completely collapsed and gave up on everything. It’s frustrating because I’m still unstable; I thought I had made progress in my mental health, but I guess I was wrong. I want to be ambitious, I want to move forward and do something with my life, but at the moment I can’t.

End of self-pity mode

Sorry about the previous paragraphs- I  needed to expel/verbalize the frustration I’ve been holding in all week, so that I can move forward. For the time being I’m going to spend all of my energy on this blog and maybe in a few months I will start up the religion blog. I love this blog to much to let it die because of my fears, paranoia and avoidance. Hopefully I will write a bigger post in the next few days.

Post questions:

How do you get yourself out of a rut (it can be depression, anxiety, agoraphobia, paranoia, mania)?

And if you have low motivation, what can you do to jump-start your mind?

I hope you are all well,

Dave.

Manic Depressive Illness- Why it Sucks Having Mixed Episodes or Rapid Cycling: These Labels are Confusing

For the past few days I’ve been stable, maybe a bit hypomanic, but stable. I woke up this morning in a good mood because I was able to get myself up before noon. Actually I’ve been getting up “early” the last few days, which is a huge accomplishment for me- I tend to sleep 12-14 hours, even when I’m not depressed. However, my mood started shifting around 2pm and before I knew it I was depressed. Like I said in the title, it really sucks having mixed episodes/rapid cycling. Because of the depression my ability to write has decreased. I’ve started and stopped at least 5 posts this afternoon and the frustration has made the depression even worse. However, for the first time in months I’m not going to allow my mood change to stop me from writing- as a result, I don’t know how this post will turn out, but I’m going to publish it anyway.

Over the last five years, I’ve experienced more and more rapid changes in my mood state. Prior to being diagnosed with manic depressive illness, I would experience depressive episodes every three months. At the time I had no clue what was going on and it was really scary. The depression would come out of nowhere and when it hit I would hide in my room (I’ve been struggling with isolation for years) and watch hours and hours of TV. Unfortunately, I never asked for help, because I was convinced that I wasn’t depressed- as a result, my mental state continued to deteriorate until I had a mental breakdown that forced me to address my “problem.” When I finally went to see a psychiatrist, Dr. K, I was experiencing depressive episodes almost every other day, so I was diagnosed as having manic depressive illness, OCD and Rapid Cycling.

I was told by Dr. K that rapid cycling was really hard to medicate. That was the one thing was right about (Dr. K was horrible doctor, he made fun of  me for being manic-depressive, he never returned my calls, and he would only see me for a few minutes at a time), it took almost three years to find the right medications to contain my mood swings.

About three months ago, my mental illness label changed.  As I noted in previous posts, I was hospitalized and then transferred to a partial hospitalization program. The head of the program was against the term rapid cycling, so I was relabeled as having mixed episodes…

Honestly, the term/label is not the problem. Its the fact that I have been jerked around by so many mental health “professionals;” at times I feel like I’m failed experiment. I know that I’m currently depressed, but this is an issue that has been in the back of my mind for years. Where is our voice?

To end this post I want to ask:

How many of you have had your diagnosis changed multiple times or have had numerous labels put on you? And how has this impacted your life?

How many of you feel like you are at the mercy of mental health professionals?

Dave.

Manic Depressive Illness: An Unknown Episode- Or Why I’m Haunted by my Past

Every once in a while I experience a bizarre and crippling episode, that forces me to reminisce about my past. I know it doesn’t sound that bad, but when it hits I’m overwhelmed by a sense of dread, paranoia, anxiety and fear. I start thinking about how shitty my life is, which then evolves into depression and suicidal thoughts. What makes it even worse is that I don’t know what triggers it or why it happens.  Since I was diagnosed with manic-depressive illness, I’ve only encountered this “unknown episode” a few times.

Last night I experienced one of these “unknown episodes.”

I had just finished eating dinner and I was trying to clean up. As I was walking to the sink I started getting this feeling that something was wrong. My mind wasn’t racing, the voice in my head was quiet and I wasn’t depressed,  so I ignored it (I don’t know how this post will turn out, my memory is spotty because the episode only lasted a few minutes). After cleaning my plates, I started calling for Domino and he rushed into the kitchen. Then it hit me. I almost fell to my knees as I was overcome by a sense of failure and regret. I started getting flashbacks of my past, my high school years, when I wasn’t a complete mess. It felt like my life was over and that I had no reason to live. I couldn’t breath. Memories of my youth overwhelmed me, causing me to loose control of my mind. I didn’t want to live, I didn’t want to be the failure that I was, and I didn’t want to be crazy.  One thought started swirling around in my head: Why had my life fallen apart?  

It felt like my head was going to explode and it took all of my energy to pull myself out of it. Slowly the thoughts began to disappear-the memories stopped, the feeling of failure went away and I started gaining control of my mind. However, the damage was done and the frightening part was that I really wanted to die.

As I stated above, I don’t know what caused the episode and that’s what scares me. I don’t know how to prepare myself for the next episode.  So I want to ask you guys, have you ever experienced something like this? And what should I do to prepare myself or protect myself from this “episode?”

I’m going to stop here, my mind is all over the place. Unfortunately, I’ve spent the entire day (I started at 11am)  sitting in front of my computer and drinking coffee. I know it’s not very healthy, but I’ve been trying to avoid the world around me.

Dave.

Manic Depressive Illness- The Origins of my Agoraphobia: Or Why I Struggle with Isolation

As I mentioned in a previous post I have been isolating, blocking myself off from the rest of the world. I have made a little progress- yesterday I saw my therapist, Thursday I went to see my psychiatrist and Wednesday I ran some errands. But I am still deeply scared of the world outside my door. Every time I try to convince myself to walk outside, I have an internal battle. My legs try to walk, but my mind fights back. So instead of walking forward I tend fall back into my chair, defeated, paranoid and anxious. The frustrating part is that I want to leave my apartment. I want to be around other people, but my mind won’t let me. I’m a prisoner to my fears and paranoia.

As a result of my isolation, I’ve spent a lot of time analyzing my past- trying to figure out how I ended up becoming a partial shut-in. I wasn’t like this in high school (ok, I wasn’t the most popular kid in school, but I had a few friends and I made an effort to go outside) or the first year of college, in fact I was both gregarious and confident. Then I realized something, in my sophomore year of college I started seeing my old therapist again. And after a few meetings, Dr. E diagnosed me with OCD and Agoraphobia. Using this period as a reference point, I tried forcing myself to remember the memories leading up to my diagnosis.

Eventually the memories started coming back.

They were dark, horrible and tragic scenes of a young me trying to fit in with the “popular” kids. At that time, I was desperate to fit in (yes, I know this is a typical scene from most  high school and college movies, but this happened to me and the results scarred me for life) so I went to parties, I drank heavily with the football team and I made a fool of myself. At the time I didn’t realize they were taking advantage of me, pushing me around and treating me like shit. I didn’t care, because I felt like I was being included.  Every day my self-esteem was taking a huge hit, shattering what little confidence I had in myself. This went on for a few months.

Manic Depressive Illness: Isolation, Isolation, Isolation!!! Is There a Way Out?

As you might have noticed, I haven’t posted in a few days. Ever since my Partial Hospitalization program ended, I have been in a daze. I rarely leave my apartment and when I do it’s to only get food. Most of my time is spent in front of the TV, watching hours and hours of shows, pretending the world outside my front door does not exist. My motivation to write has completely evaporated- it feels like I have been drained of all my ideas and creativity. It truly is amazing what isolation can do to your mind, body and soul.

I’m lost and I feel like I will never get out of this hole.

The most frustrating part is that I thought I had overcome my isolation/problems when I completed my program. I guess I was wrong. I just don’t know what to do anymore. I’m scared to leave my apartment. I’m scared to be around other people. And I’m scared that I won’t break out of this cycle.  It’s amazing how much destruction isolation can cause.

It has taken almost all of my energy to write this post. I spent most of the morning (well, I didn’t wake up until 11:45am. Unfortunately, this has become a habit. I go to bed late and wake up late) staring at blank screen, frustrated that I haven’t written in almost four days.  What makes this even worse is that writing helps me with my depression. And when I can’t write, I’m usually overwhelmed by dark and disturbing thoughts.

It’s amazing how much destruction isolation can cause.

The medication I am currently taking has provided me with balance and stability. I have only experienced a few manic or depressive episodes in the last month. Usually, when I isolate I am extremely depressed. But I’m not depressed, instead I am paranoid and anxious. The voice in my head (the dark voice I have talked about in previous posts) has been taunting me for the last few weeks and refuses to leave my head. I have been trying to combat it with an anti-anxiety med (I am not taking a benzo due to my prior addictions, rather it’s an anti-histamine that also reduces anxiety), but that only reduces the voice, it does not destroy it.

It’s amazing how much pain isolation can cause.

The easy answer would be to go outside and meet other people; unfortunately, the problem is a lot more complicated. I’m scared to death of meeting new people and I am afraid to go outside. Combine that with my extremely low self-confidence and you can see why I hide in my apartment. I know this entire post is me feeling sorry for myself- but I needed to get this out. I needed to force myself to write again so that maybe I can convince myself that change is possible. I’m sick of staying in isolation, but I don’t know if I can break out of this.

I’m glad that I finally was able to convince myself to write. But I need to end this post and I want to open up this discussion to my readers:

What are some ways I can gradually push myself to leave my apartment?

Do you have any tips or personal stories of your own isolation?

I hope you are all doing well,

Dave.

Manic Depressive Illness- My Fear of Sanity-Why I tried to Create an Episode

It’s been an odd few days.  As I noted in my previous post, my toilet broke again, causing a flood of emotions and stress. But through all the mess, my mind was stable and I didn’t fall apart. It’s been like this for about a week. Most people would be happy with stability but I’m scared of it. I have been unstable for so many years that I fear stability, because it doesn’t feel normal. It’s odd, it’s scary, it’s unnerving and it makes me sick to my stomach. I feel weird writing about this because I have made so much progress in the last month, that I should be happy I’m stable. But I’m not.  Ever since I was diagnosed with manic depressive illness (I was diagnosed about two years ago as Bipolar I, Mixed Episodes, OCD and a mild form Agoraphobia. I also suffer from an un-diagnosed anxiety disorder), I have been fighting a battle with my mind and my surroundings. It hasn’t been easy, in fact I have hit rock bottom so many times that I’m comfortable with failure and pain.

So the other day when my toilet broke, I freaked out because I was calm. I didn’t know what to do. I called my mom and tried to act “crazy,” hoping that if I kept pushing myself towards insanity I would have a mental breakdown. Nothing happened. I hung up on my mom and tried to walk around my apartment, telling myself I was worthless, crazy and ill. I tried to force my mind to race but it refused to function. In fact, the voice that has haunted me for almost a decade was silent, making me even angrier. By that time I was running around my apartment- yelling at the walls, ignoring my phone and hoping that I would breakdown. Eventually I answered the phone, talked with my mom and walked over to the manager’s apartment. He wasn’t home. Maybe this is how I can create panic in my mind! The manager isn’t home, he doesn’t care about me, in fact he is going to ignore me so that my problem grows!  No one wants to help me because I am a lost cause. My mind is fucked.

Again nothing happened.

About ten minutes later, the apartment manager walked through the front gate and greeted me. I told him that the toilet had broken again, which caused my bathroom to flood. He wasn’t mad, in fact he was very supportive and frustrated that my toilet had backed up again.  M (the manager) immediately called a plumber. About two hours later the plumber arrived, entered my apartment and began working on my toilet. Unfortunately, my mind was still stable…

I still can’t believe I tried to force myself to fall apart. It’s been a few days since my toilet broke and I’m still stable. I don’t know why.  I can’t believe I’m thinking like this- like is said in the above paragraphs, I should be happy that I’m stable instead trying to destroy my mental health.

I’m going to stop writing about this and open up this discussion to my readers: do any of you struggle with your sanity and/or sobriety? If so what have you done to overcome these feelings?

I hope you are all doing well!

Dave.