Another Day in my Confusing Life

It’s already Tuesday evening and I’m still trying to figure out what’s going on. Ever since I got out of the hospital last year I’ve lost the ability to comprehend time. Days, weeks and months merge together and it’s extremely confusing. But I’m trying to stop myself for loosing “control.” Tonight I’m going to my mental health support group which helps to keep me grounded. Although it’s scary to be around other people, their support and advice helps immensely.  After the group we always go to dinner and continue our conversations. I’m still trying to get used to human contact and being around people my age. For most of my life I’ve surrounded myself with people older than me. I was convinced that no one my age would like me because I was worthless and weak (in fact my current best friend is 51). On top of that I was scared of people my age because I couldn’t relate. I don’t like the same things as most young people and I’ve yet to find anyone as obsessed with information/knowledge/research as me (it doesn’t help that most of my friends over the last 7 years had been drug dealers and addicts. In fact, I’ve become so used to being around addicts that I’m still struggling to converse with someone who does not use). Regardless, I have to force myself to go tonight so that I can break out of my shell and try to overcome my social anxiety.

After the dinner I will be working. I have a part-time job, well it’s not exactly a part-time job. The owner, who is also my best friend, understands my mental health struggles and allows me to come in when I want to.  However, due to the leniency I’ve been lazy the last few months and not worked. Because of this of have not been helping my parents with money and bills. But, I’m finally going to push myself and start working as I need to get out of my apartment and help my parents out.

This is going to be a short post today because I’m struggling to write. Everything I’ve written seems horrible and I’m still struggling with past/present tense (something I’ve I had a hard time with since middle school, so I apologize about the horrible nature of this post and the fact that the tenses make no sense).

I hope you are all well and I look forward to hearing from you. Also, I wondering if you guys have any ideas/suggestions/topics you would like me to write about in my next post. I want to try something different and have my readers decide the topic. So please, comment and tell me what you are interested in and why. Also, I want to encourage my readers to actively participate in the comment section, as I believe discussion and debate is a great way to build up this community.

Stay strong,

Dave.

My Confusing Loss of Direction. What is my Goal in Life?

I can’t believe how long it has been since I last posted. The months have blurred together and my mind is mush. Because it has been so long since I last wrote, I’m struggling to produce coherent sentences which is confusing and depressing. I’ts as if I have lost a part of myself and I’m struggling to get it back. Over the last few months, every time I tried to write my mind would go blank and force me to quit. I was scared to write.  Scared to break my obsessive schedule. And scared that I would lose control and be consumed by my obsession for success. So instead of going through the painful process of obsession, I decided to quit and avoid the “unnecessary” struggle. Herein lies the problem: I don’t know how to do anything without completely obsessing about it. Everything I have done over the last decade has been a result of mania and obsession, which has always caused me to become mentally and physically sick leading me to quit whatever I was doing (yes graduated college, but I wasted my three years there trying to graduate early instead studying and learning).

As such, I’m currently struggling to figure out how I can do something without over obsessing about it. Also, I’m no longer manic so I can’t do as much as I want (when I was manic, I was able to handle numerous jobs and produce a tremendous amount of work. Although, the mania ultimately landed me in the hospital). Thus, I have been avoiding everything the last few months. (Rest of post after picture)

(wikipedia.org)

You might be wondering why I’m writing. Although I don’t really know why, I’ve been trying to push myself to post the last few months. Everyday I log onto my blog, check the stats, read the comments and then log off. Sometimes I would create a new post and sit there staring at the blank screen. But for some odd reason, today I decided to finally write a post. I don’t know if this means I am going to continue writing, or if anyone is even reading this. But I have realized once again, that I love to write and it makes me feel good.

On the positive side I am no longer depressed or manic (although I’m still struggling with severe social anxiety, it is not present everyday). In fact it has been over a year since I was hospitalized and my mind is finally clear. On top of that I’ve been sober since February 3rd, my longest period of sobriety since 2005.

To end this post I was wondering if any of my readers have suggestions on how to overcome obsession. Also, what are your obsession/mania stories. How has mania and OCD impacted your life?

I hope you are all well,

Dave.

Ps. Has anyone used Squidoo or Hubpages? I’m thinking about joining and trying to produce various articles.

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.

Progression: I’m Slowly Moving Forward

This is definitely a first for me, two posts in two+ days, maybe I really am changing (I hope so, because I really hate my life right now; restricted by my anxiety and paranoia, never being able to go outside because I’m afraid of everyone and everything and not being able to write due to my fear of running out of things to say) and progressing towards stability. Last week I made myself extremely sick so I didn’t have to go to my new group. It was horrible: I was vomiting, shaking and my whole body hurt because I was afraid to be around “new” people. But this week is different (in fact after I finish this post I will be leaving my apartment to go to the new group, so this post will  be somewhat brief). I’m not sick, in fact I’m kind of excited to go because I can finally get out of this damn prison.

However,

my anxiety is skyrocketing, my palms are sweaty, and the voice in my head is screaming at me not to leave! But I have to go! I have to get out of here, I have to break free from my fear of progression/change. It fucking drives me crazy that I get so scared of other people, that I can’t just walk outside and talk with a stranger. I can’t go to a new place without feeling like I’m going to vomit. Why the fuck am I like this? Why did I have to get abused? Why did I have to become an addict? Why did my life have to become such a fucking shit storm!!!!

When I get really down on myself, those question invade my mind and force me to reminisce about my childhood and high school years. I hate when I do this because it’s counterproductive and causes my emotional state to crumble (that is why I quit using Facebook,  every time I would go on there , memories of high school would flood my mind causing me to become really depressed. It has been about a month since I last logged on).

I have to stop. This post was supposed to be positive- pointing out the fact that I have made progress, but as usual I have beat myself up and complained about how shitty everything has become.  When my life is stable I try my hardest to destroy it because I am so used to depression and chaos. This is a problem I have been working on the last few weeks and as you can see I’ve yet to “fix” it.

Positives:

1. Next week will be six months of sobriety
2. I’m going to a new support group tonight
3. Tomorrow I start a new job

My time is up. Hopefully the group goes well tonight!

Dave.

Ps. Thank you Susan for the amazing phone call, you have given me the strength to face my fears and move towards progression

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.

Manic Depressive Illness: Why Sleep is my new Drug

This post is going to be short. For the last day or so I have been trying to write, unfortunately nothing wants to come out of my head (note: I am sorry that I have not responded to all of the comments on my last posts, I read them all and I really love the support! However, I am really struggling with following up on them, I will eventually respond but it will take some time. So please continue commenting, because your responses are an important/essential part of this blog). I’m still struggling with motivation and as I write this post I am fighting to stay awake. My mind keeps telling me that I need to lay down and close my eyes. The thought of sleeping really excites me, because it is the only time I can be myself, it is the only time I am not afraid of the world, it is the only time I can live out my fantasies without the fear of rejection or ridicule.

To me, sleep is the ultimate drug. In fact at this moment, it is the only drug I can use. Sobriety has been a real struggle for me- because for the last seven years I was either drunk or high. That was seven years of avoiding my problems, my emotions, my fears and paranoia. During my drug and alcohol stupor, I had no emotions and the thoughts in my head were quiet. When I quit using, my mind was flooded by unwanted emotions and thoughts; it was a horrible experience that I am still recovering from. As such, I have been searching for a replacement, something to quiet my mind- sleep.

Because of the medications I am on, my dreams are extremely vivid. Sometimes I can’t even tell if I am dreaming and that truly excites me. The one downside is that I sleep way too much. Most nights (well days, because I sleep during the day and stay up at night) I sleep about 13-15 hours, which eliminates most of my day leaving me with very little time to do the things I love: read, write and play video games. As such, I have falling deeper and deeper into depression, because I have become completely reliant on sleeping and I am unable to do anything else. It is so hard for me to get up and it is driving me fucking mad. At the moment I am stuck, I want to change but I have no clue what to do.

Does anyone else use sleep as a “drug” or escape from reality? How have you dealt with sleeping too much? And for those who are addicts, how do you deal with sobriety? What gives you the motivation to keep going?

I want to end this post with a picture from graffiti artist Banksy:

(http://www.facebook.com/pages/Banksy/39713792073)

I hope you are all enjoying your weekend and I look forward to hearing from you

Dave.

Facebook Makes me Depressed: My Confusing Struggle with Severe Introversion & Low Self-Esteem

Continuing my discussion on introversion and low self-esteem, we will now look at something that causes me great pain: Facebook. Everyday, I log onto Facebook, to check my messages, my notices and the stream of updates that are produced by my “friends.” Then I start to look at the facebook pages of people who I know- former high school classmates, people I met while I was an undergraduate at Whittier College, former coworkers, people I have met over the last seven years and “friends” that I had made while studying religion at the Claremont School of Theology. Every page I visited was overflowing with happiness, success and love.

Why the fuck am I so pathetic? I have no potential, I have no future. I will always be alone, because I am just a waste of fucking space!!

The longer I spend reading my “friend’s” pages, the louder the negative voice in my head becomes.  And with each new update and notice, my sanity begins to crumble. At this point I am light-headed, my hands are sweating, my body is trembling and a feeling of despair and failure takes over.

(http://shafali.wordpress.com/category/unexplained-stuff/)

You are a worthless piece of shit! Just look at all of your friends, they have jobs and friends, and girlfriends and a future. Just look at those pictures, look at how happy they are!  At this point I scream at the top of my lungs. I try to convince myself that the pictures are not real, that most of them have been strategically taken to make it look like they are having a great time. I try to remind myself that most people only post positive things on their facebook pages and that a lot of people exaggerate their experiences. I try my hardest to remember what I had been taught in therapy. But it didn’t matter, my mind was made up…You will always be lonely, you always be pathetic, you will always be worthless! You have no future, you have no potential. Remember you are worthless, no one cares about you, no wants to help you. And why, because you are a disgrace to not only yourself, but to your family and to those around you. You would be better off dead, but even then no one would give a shit, you would just fade and be forgotten. 

Unfortunately, I have been struggling with these thoughts for the last month. At times they fade, but when I get tired they resurface and all I can think about is how worthless I am. You would think that by now I would have stopped using facebook, but I can’t break the cycle. I guess I just love pain, I love to wrap myself in depression because that is all I know. Over the last four years, I have endured psychological abuse by the people I worked for.

Every boss I have had treated me like utter shit- they screamed at me for hours, constantly telling me I was worthless, that my birth was a mistake and that I would never have a successful life. They would make fun of me and mess with my head. One of my bosses strangled me. I know this doesn’t sound that bad, but for me it was beyond horrible because it completely destroyed my self-confidence, causing me to accept the fact that I was worthless. Ever since these experiences, I have not been the same. Most days I can’t look at myself in the mirror, because I am disgusted by what see. And when I meet new people, I am so scared of  them because I am convinced they will try to cause me psychological harm.

I am sorry that I went on that tangent, I know this doesn’t have anything to do with my facebook problem, but I needed to get that out. Part of the depression I have been experiencing, is linked to the  psychological abuse I received. Maybe, in a future post I will be able to better explain what I went through.

That is all I can write, this post has brought up a lot of my fears, and I am struggling to keep it together right now. I wanted to end this post with a few questions: Does facebook bring up bad memories for you or trigger depression and does seeing other people who have “happy lives” cause you to fall into a depressive episode?

I hope you are all 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.

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.

Posts to come and Thanks for the Continued Support!

In the coming weeks, I will hopefully start posting regularly it’s just going to take me a bit of time to get used to writing on a consistent basis. However, I’m really excited to be back. There is so much I want to talk about, and this blog will finally allow me to get all of the shit out of my head. For six months I have kept quiet, letting my thoughts, fears, anxieties, hopes and dreams stew within my mind. Yes, I’m seeing a therapist (and psych doc) but it’s not the same as writing. To me, writing allows me to completely open up and release all of my thoughts and struggles.

Some of the topics I will be writing about, are: psych meds (specifically seroquel and how it almost destroyed my life) and how they impact society, drug abuse (I’m an alcohol and drug addict. From the age of 19 till 22 I drank every day until my doctor told me I was pickling my liver. So I quit drinking, but instead of staying sober I started smoking weed, which led to pain killers. Four years later I finally got clean. I’ve been sober for a few months now and week I attend a sobriety group), mental health and the stigma surrounding it, as well as continuing to explore and understand my life.

I’m really looking forward to blogging and interacting with all of my readers I just wanted to say thank you for all of the support over the last few months, even though I have not been blogging- I still logged in everyday and read all the responses, which helped me immensely. Also, Struggling with the Elephant in the Room broke 13,000 hits today which is far more than I ever thought this blog would have received, so again thank you for all of your support

I hope you are all well,

Dave.