Can I Overcome My Obsessions so That I can Start Working Again?

My mind is filled with fear, my body reeks of old sweat from not showering, my hair is greasy, my eyes are blood shot and my hands are trembling. I’m not depressed, in fact I’m far from the eternal darkness that has consumed me for most of this year. Rather I’m afraid of the changes that are occurring in my life. I’m afraid that I will fail. I’m afraid that I will lose my sobriety and start using again. I’m afraid that I will lose my ability to write. I’m afraid that my future will be no more. And I’m afraid that my mind will crack and I will loose all of my progress, all of my healing and end up back in the hospital.

I should be happy that I have a new job and that I’m not depressed. I should  be relieved that it has been months since my last mixed episode. And I should be happy that I am still sober.

But I’m not. All I can think about is that I will fail and lose everything. It has happened before, in fact most of my life is filled with incomplete projects and jobs that I could never hold. Yes, I graduated from college, but I didn’t learn anything and never paid attention. Most of my time was spent trying to figure out how to graduate early and to make myself well known. I was afraid that when I died, my existence and history would be lost forever.

So I made myself well known. I did PR for my college’s football team. Before I stared working for them, their average attendance was 100. When I quit, they were getting close to 1000 fans a game. I obsessed about working with the football team so much that my life became the football team. I stopped doing my homework, I rarely slept, I never read or played video games and I had no friends. Instead I spent all of my time with the football team trying to make them into a massive success. I became so driven that I began working with the community that surrounded the school. I attended city business networking groups, had lunch with local civic leaders and convinced the mayor to work with the school. At that point my obsession exploded and I shifted my interests from the football team to the school itself.  I was convinced that I could reunite the city and the college (for years the city had shunned the college, and the college refused to acknowledge city. Instead of working together they ignored each other).

I started working with the president of the school to help increase the college’s exposure and convinced her that we needed to build a relationship between the city and the college. I was just a college student and yet I was able to have numerous private meetings with the president (I was able to circumvent her secretary and the rest of her staff. No student had ever been able to do that before. I was put on her schedule along with donors, politicians and business leaders). She agreed and I stared doing various jobs for her, as well as becoming one of her PR advisers. I was given an official title and I was invited to join a major committee that worked on various projects to improve the school (the board consisted of professors, heads of every major department in the school, student government president/vice president and me) as well as the student run activities committee. At that point I had my hands in every part of the school and was the creator of the school’s new slogan (there is a lot more, but it is a little fuzzy and I don’t really want to think about it, because it stresses me out).

I had my wish; I was well known and respected. But my life was fucking miserable. I had spread myself so thin and had so many responsibilities that I didn’t know what to do. Instead of asking for help, I just gave up. I stopped going to the meetings, I stopped helping and I stopped caring. I shut myself in my dorm room and gave up on life.

For the next year I did absolutely nothing. I watched TV and drank myself into oblivion. I stopped caring about school and just wanted to graduate . At that point I thought my life was over. I had no reason to live, I had no reason to move forward. And I was scared shitless.

Every time I have done something in my life, I have over obsessed about it, pushed myself to become the best at whatever I was doing and then quit. Besides graduating from college, I’ve never finished anything in the last decade.

And that is why I’m so fucking afraid.

I’m afraid that I will end up repeating my mistakes and once again give up on life.

A friend of mine has given me a position in his company. He has helped me so much during the last year: coaching me, talking with me and just being there when I was really down. Now that I am stable and sober he has given me a chance to start working again. A chance to become self sufficient and move towards the next step in my mental health progress. But I am so damn scared that I will fuck it up.

I don’t know what to do. The last year and a half has been so fucking miserable, so painful and so depressing.  I have been wallowing in self pity for far to long. But I’m afraid I will never be able to break through this dark barrier. Will I be able to overcome my obsessions and my self pity? Fuck I hope so, because I want to live a stable and productive life!

Wow this has been a long post, I haven’t written this much in months. And all though my anxiety is high and I’m really stressed, I’m fucking glad I did this.

Well that is all for now. What do you guys think I could do to help myself overcome my fears? What has been your experience with fear and self pity? How have you overcome your mental roadblocks? Or if you are currently struggling, please comment about it, so that we can all work together to heal and survive.

My goal for this blog is to make it into a community and a safe place for everyone who suffers. I want to invite you to continue commenting and if possible respond to your fellow readers so that we can create a living dialogue, and an internet support group. Your comments and responses have helped me get through my struggles and I want to share that love and support with everyone. 

I hope you are all having wonderful weekend and I look forward to the coming discussions. I am going to push myself to respond to your comments, so that I can overcome my fear of communication and human contact.

Stay strong,

Dave.

My Week is Going Well & That Scares the Shit out of Me :(

Sorry for not posting this week, I’ve been taking a mental break- I had three straight days of therapy (both group and individual) and my mind is tired. And on top of that everything has been going well, which I fucking hate. Even worse, I liked the new group I went to on Tuesday and because of that it messed my entire week up.  For two weeks I had been prepared myself to hate the new group, to fear the fact that the group of new people would make fun of me, and force me to sit in a corner and cower. For two weeks I made myself sick with fear. But when I finally went to the group, I actually enjoyed myself, which sent me into a paranoid/anxiety filled rage (well, I don’t know if it was a rage because it didn’t happen all at once, but something broke in my head). The rest of the week went well too, which caused my mind to further crumble. By Friday I was a mess, I didn’t know what to do. My week went well and I was not prepared for that. It got so bad that I couldn’t do anything, I spent most of the night staring at my blank computer screen, wondering what went wrong.

I’m finally stable again, but now I’m just confused. Why does happiness scare me so much? Is this going to happen to me every time I have a good week? Shit, the last time I ended up in the psych ward, I was having a really good day, I woke up happy, had an enjoyable drive and then fell into an extremely destructive mixed episode that go so bad I had to be escorted by multiple security guards to the hospital. Happiness seems to cause me immense pain and suffering. And every time I’m stable, I try my hardest to fuck things up.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Does anyone else struggle with this? Do any of you guys fear happiness, or try destroy your stability? And if so what have you done to get over the fear/hate of happiness and stability?

Well, that is all I can write at the moment. Hopefully I can post again soon. I know I constantly make this promise, saying that I will post more often and then I don’t for days, but I’m really trying my hardest to change this. It’s all linked to my struggle with motivation, ever time I try to get myself to write (or do any other activity) I get this really horrible feeling that I cannot describe. Further it is compounded by this habit I forced myself into as a kid. When I was in high school, I was a solid student. I would spend hours and hours working on homework, keeping myself dedicated to my studies. However, I started realizing everyone else was playing video games, going to movies, partying or doing other things not related to homework. So, I started to get really jealous and forced myself to stop studying. Unfortunately, this “habit” got worse.

When I was in college I never studied (well I studied a little bit, but most of the knowledge I learned was from taking notes during the lectures) and I wrote most papers the day they were due. You would think I did horribly in college, but you would be wrong. I graduated in three years, with three degrees and honors in one of my degrees. Because of this my “habit” got even worse. It got so bad that any activity, other than watching tv or playing video games, would be considered “homework” in my head and I couldn’t do it.

As a result, every time I want to write, my brain tries to convince me that it is a chore and I should be doing something “fun.” Even though writing is the most exciting, exhilarating, stimulating activity I can do (it gives me a mental high that I cannot explain), I get this horrible feeling every time I try write (or do anything else, like go outside, call someone on the phone etc.)  This problem has gotten so convoluted and powerful that it impacts every part of my life. And I’m fucking frustrated. I know you might think that I’m complaining and that this is a trivial problem attributed to laziness and lack of motivation- but to me it’s not. I really struggle with this.

Well I guess I wasn’t done writing. I just wanted to let you all know what I’m going through and why I’m having such a hard time posting. I’m not depressed anymore, thanks to the lamictal and my anxiety has gone from extremely high to somewhat high. I’m just struggling with psychological problems I’ve had for well over a decade and they are fucking hard to break.

I hope you are all doing well,

Dave.

I’m Deathly Afraid of New Things- Anxiety Strikes Again!!

Well I didn’t make it to the bipolar/depression support group, because I was too scared to go.  As usual, I forced myself to become a paranoid wreck- talking to myself out loud, muttering random things I caused my brain to spin out control; thoughts and sounds bounced around in my head, which eventually became bits of music that increased in volume and pushed me into a hole of despair, where a voice started talking (I don’t know if that was me thinking or if it was another person in my head)- telling me that if I went to the support group, I would be laughed at, ridiculed, belittled and forced to walk away in shame. The voice told me I could not leave…all I  know is that I was confused, scared and fucking crazy. I was rocking back in forth in my chair, soaked in sweat and all I could think about was throwing up.

I just don’t understand myself; none of this is fucking rational!! I know that if I went to the support group, I would have a good time and most likely learn something new. But my brain just wouldn’t let me go. Every time I have to do something new, I end up making myself extremely paranoid and deeply sick. I don’t know how to break this cycle. The medication doesn’t work, the therapy hasn’t helped and talking with other people just makes the problem worse. I just want to fucking scream!!!! (more after pic)

(http://megancorbett.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/Anxiety.jpeg)

As a result, I have been stuck in this fucking apartment, restrained by my anxiety and paranoia. I really want to get out and meet new people, but my brain just won’t let me. So my connection to the outside world is restricted to my laptop and the internet. In fact I’m a member of few forums, where I constantly talk to new people. Further, through this blog I met a woman who has become a very close and dear friend. Although we live on the opposite sides of US we have been texting on and off the last few years. But I am only able to do this, because I am hided behind my computer and phone.

It’s just not fucking rational.

I never used to be like this. In fact, when I was in high school I was extremely gregarious. I didn’t have many close friends, but I had dozens of acquaintances. By my senior year I knew almost everyone in my class (we had over 500 people in our class) as well as a bunch of the underclassmen. Everyday I shook people’s hands, talked with them and constantly met new people.

At that time I loved to talk, especially with strangers. This carried on into my college years and beyond. My first job when I graduated college, was as a union organizer (I worked for UNITE-HERE, the largest hotel union in the country), which required me to be in constant contact with new people.  In fact, I was made into an underground organizer (union salt). I had to integrate myself into a hotel and help the union create a structure that would eventually lead to a strike. Not only was I a union organizer, I was also a night auditor (over night supervisor for the front desk.).

It was at this point my life changed. I became addicted to pain killers and I was constantly abused by my managers. It was both physical and psychological abuse that cause caused deep scars. I still have nightmares of those days.

*I want to pull back a second and apologize for this post becoming a confused mess. I didn’t know how this post was going to go and my life has been so frustrating that I just needed to get this out. Writing is the only way I can understand my problems*

For the next few years, I went from job to job, not knowing what I was going to do with my life.  What made matters worse was that every job I went to, the boss would psychologically abuse me. I was told over and over and over and over again that I worthless. I was told that I could do nothing because I was a piece of shit. I was screamed at, I was made fun of, I was put down, I was degraded and I was destroyed. Unfortunately, abuse seemed to follow me and it got to a point that I began to believe I was worthless. All the self confidence that I had as a kid was destroyed. All the happiness that I enjoyed was taken away. By the time I ended up in the psych ward I was shell of myself. To make matters worse, my manic depression spiraled out of control and my addictions consumed me.

I had no future.

Luckily I was forced to go to the psych ward, because it helped turned my life around. It has been almost a year since I was committed and my depression and mania is under control. I see psychiatrist, a therapist and I go to a sobriety meeting once a week.

But I’m still not “stable.” Because of the abuse, I am still a shell of myself, trapped in this apartment. I hope that I can change; I hope I can overcome these problems and break free of these chains. But at the moment, all I can do is bask in the wondrous glory of anxiety, despair and paranoia. (more post after the pic)

(http://www.studio-international.co.uk/studio-images/munch/Despair_b.jpg)

If you are also chained by anxiety, ptsd, depression, mania, ocd etc I would love to hear your story. If you are able, please share them in the comment section. Your comments are the one thing that keeps me going, reminding me I am not alone in this fucked up journey.

I hope you are all well!

Dave.

It’s Official I’m Depressed

There is not much really to say, just that my depression is back with a vengeance. I know I have been talking about depressive feelings, but this is the first time in awhile that I really really really feel depressed.  Everything has been going wrong today, it feels like I’m going to cry- I wish I could cry but thanks to my meds, crying is not something I can do, which fucking sucks and my life looks like shit.

It is hard for me to admit that I am depressed, because as a kid I was conditioned to believe I was not a depressed person. I was always energetic, bubbly and “up.” When I felt like shit I was told that it would pass, because it was just a momentary feeling and then I was reminded that I was not a depressed person. After being told this numerous times I convinced myself that I don’t suffer from depression, because I’m not a depressed person (the rest of the post is after the picture)

(http://www.lonvig.biz/sad-days-indeed.htm)

So when I first started experiencing multiple depressive episodes, I was convinced it wasn’t depression but rather a weak point in my life. It just was not normal. Even when I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, I still was believed that I was not depressive person….sorry this post is not going anywhere. To speed this up, basically I had a revelation in the last few months that I really do suffer from depression. This is the first time in my life that I am not suffering from mixed episodes

*(a mixed episode is when you experience both mania and depression. In my experience a mixed episode is when you have a tremendous amount of energy, your ego is massive, you loose all inhibitions, your mind races-sometimes there are voices, and on top of all of that you don’t care you are going to die. In fact life seems so worthless, that you will do anything to end it in a very dramatic way. So not only are you in hyper-state, but the depression forces you into this very dangerous situation. I don’t know if this explains mixed episodes well, but essentially its an extreme combination of both mania and depression. It is one the worst experiences you will ever have, in fact I ended up in the psych because of a really bade mixed episode. In my life I have had quite a few mixed episodes, and there were numerous times I should have been hospitalized. Luckily, I survived them all).

rather I’m experiencing only depression. So, now that I have gotten that out, I’m going to return to not crying, watch shitty tv shows and complaining about how horrible my life is, until I finally pass out from exhaustion. All I know is that I really do not like being depressed.

If you guys have any tips on how I can make myself feel a little better during this wonderous depressive episode, I would love to hear them. Also I wanted to thank both detritusmind and Kathryn for leaving those amazing comments on my last post, they really did help me out Click their names to visit their blogs, both of which are must reads!!!

I hope you are all having a better day than I am,

Dave.

When Medication Side-Effects & Drug Abuse Collide; Why it Makes Life so Confusing

For the last three years, I have been on numerous psychiatric medications. And each one them has had some sort of side-effect. As a result, I had to convince myself that the meds were helping me more than they were hurting me. It got to the point that I truly believed taking psych meds was the only way I would get better and that anyone who was against them must have been crazy. Essentially, I closed my eyes and allowed my psychiatrist to guide me towards recovery. This worked for a few years, as my episodes slowly disappeared and I was able to regain control of my life.

During this period I started taking theology classes (one of my majors, when I was an undergrad, was religious studies. Although I was born Jewish, I have always been fascinated by the Christian religion and how it split off from Judaism. I spent a great deal of time studying the historical Jesus and the Jewish Christian faith) at my local college and after a semester of study, my professor (Dr. J) suggested I should pursue graduate school. In fact, Dr. J was the director of a research group at the Claremont School of Theology (CST), one of the top seminaries in the country. This was a huge moment, because I never thought I would be able to make it back to school. With Dr. J’s help I was accepted to CST.

A few months later I started school.  It was around this time that my psychiatrist decided to up my Seorquel dosage to 900mg, so as to supplement the zoloft (the reason, was that zoloft was causing a massive increase in my mania. So instead of taking me off zoloft, he decided to put me on both Seroquel and tegretol.  I didn’t question my psychiatrist because I believed in him and I thought he was doing the right thing. As you will later see, the side-effects from these meds caused my life to fall apart) A few weeks into the semester, I started to feel off. Every time I sat down in the library to study, my mind would wander. I would stare at the other students, wondering who they were and what they were doing. When I tried to read, random thoughts would race through my head causing me to loose focus. At first I didn’t think anything was wrong, in fact I thought I was just tired, or I had consumed to much coffee. So I just ignored the thoughts, which was a mistake. Another week went by, and the thoughts were getting louder. Instead of just random noise they became vocal, telling me how much the other students disliked me. Just look at them, they avoid eye contact with you because you are pathetic. They are whispering with their friends, thinking of ways to destroy you. You will always be alone! Always!

(http://www.wellsphere.com/wellpage/chlorpromazine-side-effects)

As the voices became louder, my concentration evaporated. I no longer could study and the only thing that helped me get through the day was watching tv and playing video games. Then I found something that completely eliminated the voices: marijuana and Vicodin. (I know this post is supposed to be about medication side-effects, but this is all related. You will see shortly where this story is going). I started off slowly, but about a month later I was smoking weed everyday and constantly popping pills (a habit that lasted almost a year). It was during this time that I completely stopped taking my zoloft. I was now only on Seroquel and tegretol. Long story short, I ended dropping out of graduate school for mental health reasons. Due to my drug use (I later learned that drug use can accelerate and intensify bipolar episodes) and the high level of seroquel, I experienced numerous mental breakdowns. It got so bad that I was eventually hospitalized and spent a week in the psych ward.

It was around this time that I got clean and changed psychiatrists. I found out that my previous psychiatrist was being paid and supported by AstraZenica (they would take him out to lunch every week, provide him with an unlimited supply samples as well as other benefits) and I finally realized why I was on such a high dosage of Seroquel. However, I still did not want to change my meds, because my life seemed to be stable. Unfortunately, I was very wrong.

The problems started very small:  I gained a bit of weight. I started sleeping 10+ hours a day and when I was awake I felt a bit sluggish. My libido began to completely disappear, to the point where I was only horny every two weeks (sorry, this is something I needed to note, although it does make me nervous to talk about this, it is a side-effect and one that still plagues me to this day). Because these “problems” were unimportant to me, I was convinced nothing was wrong. And even though I knew these were medication side-effects, I continued to ignore them. Slowly the problems became worse: my motivation slowly disappeared and I lost interest in writing. As a result,  I stopped posting on this blog, even though my blog was the only thing that made me happy- I no longer had the energy to continue writing. Again, I just thought I was depressed and that I would eventually “snap out of it.”

Again I was wrong.

About three months ago, I began to lose my short-term memory. I started to forget what I had done that day. When I would talk to people, I began to struggle with completing my sentences, because I couldn’t remember basic words. It was as if my mind was falling apart. I would stand there struggling to remember what I was talking about. I couldn’t fucking think, I couldn’t fucking talk and my mind was turning to mush. It felt like I had dementia. And that scared the shit out of me. It was at that point, I realized my mind was being destroyed by the psych meds. Luckily, the damage was not permanent. Working with my psychiatrist we began decreasing the amount of seorquel I was on…

I’m sorry for the long rambling post, I just needed to get this out of my head and talk about the issue of medication side-effects.

What have been your experiences with medication side-effects? How have you dealt with them? Are you still going through side-effects or have you been able to break free from medication? Or have you had positive experiences with psych meds?

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- The End of my Group Therapy- Or Why do I have Anxiety

Today was the end of my Partial Hospitalization program. I’m just amazed at how fast the last two months have gone by. When I started the program I was an absolute mess. I was experiencing mixed episodes almost every week, I was a nervous wreck and I was struggling to stay sober. I had no reason to live and I was scared shitless.  Thankfully, the nurses and doctors at the hospital realized I was struggling and a week after I started the program I was transferred to the in-patient psychiatric unit (although they considered it “voluntary,” I didn’t have a choice. My doctor told me that I was going into the psych ward,  because I was a danger to myself). Although I didn’t want to be hospitalized, it turned out to be a very positive and life changing experience. I spent a week in the hospital and by the time I left, my mental state was under control and I finally had the right combination of meds. This was the first time in almost a decade that I was stable and sober. I then returned to the partial hospitalization program, where I continued to work on my manic-depression.

Although I have made a lot of progress, there is one thing I still struggle with- Anxiety. As I mentioned in my previous post, I am constantly fighting with my mind. Some days are better than others, but there is this voice in my head that taunts me and tries to destroy my life. I have been struggling with this voice since high school.

I have to apologize, I can’t write anymore. Just thinking about my anxiety is causing me a lot pain (I will return to this topic sometime in the next week, because I need to get my thoughts out).

Further, I am struggling with the fact that my partial hospitalization program is over and I don’t know what to do with myself. I have no job, I can barely handle stress and I am still alone. Although I have made a lot of progress I still have my bad days which is frustrating….

I’m going to lay down and try to sleep for a few hours, hopefully that will help.

Dave.

Friday Night Update

What a weird week, but at least it’s over. I haven’t posted on this blog since Tuesday and I apologize to my readers. Two days ago I had the opportunity to write a guest blog for prozacblogger.com (it was about my worst mixed episode and why you shouldn’t mix marijuana and manic depressive illness) which I will be re-posting on this blog next week.

Not much has really happened this week. Actually I take that back, yesterday I saw a therapist for the first time in almost two years. It went well, until I started talking about my low self esteem. Just bringing up the abuse I suffered at work and the fact that so many people have taken advantage of me, caused me to fall into a depression. When I  got home I spent most of the evening beating myself up because I am alone and friendless. When I woke up this morning the depression was still there, and it consumed my day- when I got home from group therapy, I ignored my cat, tore my clothes off, entered my bedroom and fell onto my bed. Six hours later I woke up hungry, sad and frustrated.

It has been hard to motivate myself the last few days, so I appolize again for not posting.

I hope you are all doing well,

Dave.

Saturday Afternoon Update- My Toilet Broke, but I’m Mentally Stable

To all my readers, I want to apologize for not posting the last few days. My life has been going up and down and every time I try to sit down and write, my life crumbles. My toilet broke again the other day, flooding the bathroom with water and urine (I know that is a little too much information, but I want to show you what I have been dealing with), causing my somewhat stable mind to crack. Well not completely crack, but I was teetering on the edge. The toilet was eventually fixed, but the problem was I had to let other people into my apartment, which is one of my biggest fears/paranoia. It’s completely irrational, I get scared when other people are in my apartment, so how am I supposed to meet someone and allow them in my life? Maybe that is why I have no friends, I’m scared to let my guard down and allow someone into my world-then again would I even want to let someone get close to me or into my head, its pretty fucked up, the thoughts,  the negative feelings and the voice that never seems to go away- I’m going to be honest here, this is something I’ve never really talked about, I’m 25 and I’ve never had a girlfriend, I’ve never had a relationship with anyone. Honestly this shouldn’t be a problem, there are a lot of people out there that are single and happy. But it gets lonely. I realize that I need to work on myself before I can start a relationship, so I’m going to move onto the next topic.

I made it through the week and although my toilet broke and other people were in my house, I didn’t have a huge mental breakdown. I’m proud of myself, because this means I’m making a lot of progress. A month ago I would never have survived this, in fact I would have most likely ended up back in the hospital.

I’m finally making progress! My mind is stable and I’m happy for the first time in months. I know this won’t last, but for now I will enjoy the mental stability. Hopefully I will get to the point where I can start working again (I want to write professionally, it is a dream of mine and I hope that I can make this real one day. I know I was born to write and even if it takes years, I will become a professional writer!!) and possibly go back to school (again I want to attend a creative writing/non-fiction program).

I hope you are all doing well!

Dave.

Manic Depressive Illness- My Addiction and Self-Medication Rant

(Rant alert, today’s post is a rant/frustration post) I have been abusing drugs and alcohol for almost six years. Although I’m now sober (22  days) I struggle daily with addiction. Some days are better than others, but the problem is I got so used to being high (well not just high, I usually smoked until I passed, took as many pills I could without overdosing, and mixed multiple drugs so that I would black-out) and not having to deal with my thoughts that sobriety has almost become a burden. It drives me crazy that I think like this. I should be happy that I’m sober but at the moment I’m not. I’m scared, paranoid and depressed that my mind is flooded with so many fucked up thoughts. I  wish there was a wonder pill that would eliminate my cravings, stabilize my mood disorder and raise my self-confidence.

But there isn’t.

So instead, I’m stuck with my mind and I can no longer self-medicate.

-end rant-

I needed to get that out, I’ve been holding it in ever since I quit smoking  weed and abusing pain killers. I definitely feel a lot better and can now talk about this issue. Self-medication and addiction is a major problem for the mental health community. Most of the patients in the partial hospitalization program I attend are in the dual track (bipolar disorder and addiction) and we all have  similar stories. Further, most of my extended family suffers from either mental illness or addiction. In fact, both my maternal and paternal grandparents are alcoholics and both sets of grandparents suffer from various forms of mental illness.

Because of my family background, my parent’s worked hard to keep me away from drugs and alcohol and it worked for awhile. In high school I never drank or partied. I spent most of my time studying, seeing a therapist for my ADD and hanging out with some of my friends. I never once thought about drinking or abusing drugs because I saw what it did to my family- it destroyed them. My freshman year of college was the same, I was still living at home and commuting to school. I stayed away from the “bad” crowd and spent a lot of time alone. But something happened in my sophomore year. I decided it was time to start drinking, so I attended a Halloween party and had my first taste of alcohol.

I got to the party late and I was scared and nervous about attending. Would any0ne talk with me? Or would they just point and laugh? What happens if I go in and I don’t know anyone? I don’t think I could talk to a bunch of strangers? Fuck. Just do it David. Walk up to the door and open it. I was fucking paranoid, but I saw someone I knew and entered the house. In fact I knew a lot of people. Someone walked up to me and handed me a red cup filled with beer, they slapped me on the back and welcomed me to the party. I took a sip and at first I wanted to spit out. It tasted horrible, but everyone seemed to like it so I took another sip, and then another, and then another. Before I knew it I was buzzed and the beer started tasting good. I quickly finished the cup and walked to the back of the house where they had a keg. I asked for another cup and guzzled it. 20 beers later and I was finally having a good time. Well I was drunk off my ass, so I don’t really remember much of the night. All I know is that I ended up at someone’s apartment and passed out on their couch. The next morning my head hurt and I told myself I would never drink again.

It took me three years to quit drinking. Unfortunately, I started drinking everyday because I was stressed and I couldn’t deal with my life, my thoughts, my paranoia and my growing depression (when I was forced to quit drinking, I switched to weed and pills which further consumed my life). My parent’s had worked so hard to keep me away from drugs and alcohol and yet I still became a slave to addiction. As I stated above I spent almost six years in a drug and alcohol haze. I didn’t write the previous paragraph to glamorize drinking, but rather to provide an example of how easy it is to fall into addiction. It was also around that time that my mental illness started to morph from ADHD to Manic-Depression.

It’s scary to think that I spent most of my adult life high or drunk.

I am going to end my post there, and open it up to my readers: Is self-medication and addiction a problem in the mental health community?

Dave.