Thank You for All of the Amazing Comments and Support

As I said in the title thank you for commenting, discussing, supporting and relating to my struggles. This means the world to me. The last week has been a living nightmare. Every day I woke up, I was drowning in darkness and despair. My depression was at an all time high and to make things worse I was also struggling with crippling anxiety and paranoia – essentially this was a mixed episode and the last time I had one I was locked up in a psych ward.

For five days I was desperate to have the pain end and midway through my episode I wanted my life to end. I’m not suicidal, but I have had thoughts of death before and this time I truly wanted to die. I thought my life was pointless.

However, a day later I contacted one of my friends and asked for help. This was a huge step for me as I rarely reach out to other human beings.  But it was the right thing to do. My friend spent the next few hours texting and talking with me.  She reassured me, provided me with support and listened to my struggles. By the time our conversation ended, I felt a lot better. Although I was still depressed, I had confidence to continue fighting. Because I reached out and asked for help, I was able to overcome my mixed episode and realize that that my life is not pointless.

Currently I’m not depressed, or anxious, or paranoid, or manic. In fact, I feel great. What made this possible was seeing all of the amazing comments that have been left on my previous post.  My goal is to read through all of them and try to respond to as many as possible.

Again thank you for your support and your stories. The goal of this blog is to become a forum for people who struggle with mental illness and to be a safe place for people to discuss, comment and tell their stories.

I would love to hear more of your stories. How many of you have had a mixed episode? How many of you have spent time in a psych ward? And does anyone have any tips on how to overcome depression?

I hope you are all doing well! And remember, stay strong and never give up!!!

Dave.

Domino says hi And here is a picture of baby Domino

 

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.

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.

Manic Depressive Illness: When Depression hits Like a Ton of Bricks- My Therapy Session

I saw my therapist yesterday and it turned out to be a very difficult session. I’m not used to having a therapist who pokes and prods and takes an interest in my mental health- my previous therapists were crap and rarely cared about my progress (this will be the topic of a later post, detailing the potential damage psychotherapists can cause). So when Dr. J started digging into the root of my depression, I was not ready for the outcome…

The first part of the session was spent talking about various aspects of the mental health world- in a previous session I had told Dr. J that I was writing a blog about my struggles with mental health, so he was updating me on various topics and studies. This lasted for a few minutes, until the conversation began turning towards my life. We started talking about how my week went and the fact that I’m still isolating. However, that was not my main concern, so I shifted the conversation towards the subject of mixed episodes. Dr. J asked me a few questions about my episodes and we began discussing how my emotional state has changed over the last few years (a lot of it due to my drug use. This will be the topic of a future post). It was around this point that I began to fall apart. The more Dr. J dug into my mental state, the more I started to loose control of my mind. I don’t know what the breaking point was, but something he his said sent me spinning.

The walls started closing in and I felt myself shrinking into my chair. A wave of darkness washed over me and the only thing that I could think of was, get me the hell out of here! I could see Dr. J sitting across from me, trying to engage me in discussion, but my mind had other plans.  I could barely move, I could barely think and the walls continued to close in. The depression was growing and I couldn’t fight it; instead I spent all of my energy trying to stop myself from crying (I do cry, however, it embarrasses me to cry in front of other people, shit it embarrasses me to just be in the presence of other people). What the fuck was I going to do? How the hell did this depression start? Why am I acting like this? Why am I being tortured by my mind? I hate myself! I hate myself! I hate myself!  The mental screaming only made my situation worse, as the darkness began to tighten its grip. I still could barely understand Dr. J and although I wanted to speak up, my mind was occupied. As I stated in my title, the depression had hit me like a ton of bricks.

Eventually the depression began to weaken, and I was able to regain control of my mind (I know this was a quick leap from deep depression to stability, but I didn’t want to ramble on and on about my depressive state. That could have taken up hundreds and hundreds of words). I could finally hear Dr. J clearly and we began discussing what I had felt. He determined that a lot of my episodes are situational, as exemplified by the episode I had just experienced. The session ended a few minutes later and I was happy to leave (well happy that I had survived the session). By the time I made it home, I was exhausted. Although I wasn’t completely depressed I was lethargic, un-motivated and stressed.

End-post questions:

Have you ever experienced an episode during a therapy session? If so, would you be willing to share.

How do you keep your therapy sessions on topic? Sometimes I struggle with going on random tangents that take away from  my session time. Does anyone else struggle with this?

Are your episodes situational? Do events, memories or actions cause an episode to start?

 

I hope you are all having a great weekend.

Dave.

Psychiatric Medications- Are they Right or are they Wrong? (Open Discussion, Comments Wanted)

The subject of psychiatric medication is extremely popular in the mental health blogosphere (and in the real world).  Both sides of the debate believe they are right and most of the time they refuse to listen to each other. Instead of me rambling on about my experience with medications, I want to try something new. I want to open this post up to my readers, so that everyone has a voice- it doesn’t matter if you are for or against medications, I would love to hear your opinions.

Please use this post as an open forum and I hope you join in the discussion

Dave.

Ps. Remember to respect other people’s views.

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.

The Day I was Diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder and Why It Was a Horrible Experience

When I first started this blog, I wrote a post about the problem with accurate diagnosis (I was originally diagnosed with ADD at the age of seven. I have been re-diagnosed a half dozen times over my life, with each new diagnosis worse than the previous one). It was a detailed look at the day I was diagnosed with Manic Depressive Illness (or Bipolar Disorder)- a very stressful and unnerving day, that caused me a tremendous amount of pain and emotional suffering. My psychiatrist was horrible, he treated me like crap and laughed at me for being manic-depressive. I am re-posting this story so that if someone is in the same situation they can see that they are not alone. Unfortunately, there are a lot of bad doctors out there that care more about money then the wellbeing of their patients. I’m going to stop writing this introduction and present you with my story:

“A little over a year ago my life changed. After going through numerous mental breakdowns (please see my previous post, for a detailed description of my various mental breakdowns, that led me to quit all of my jobs and give up on life) I finally decided it was time to seek medical/professional help. With the support of my parents I began looking for a psychiatrist as well as a therapist. It didn’t take long for me to find a psych who would accept my insurance and before I knew it I had an appointment (At the time I did not realize how bad/shoddy/ignorant this psychiatrist was. Had I done some research, I would have avoided the pain I was about to go through. The problem was that I was very manic and obsessively determined to fix my “problem.” In doing so, I hastily found a psychiatrist without the proper due diligence).

About a week later I went to my first psychiatrist appointment. The office building was located in an upscale area of Long Beach. The lounge was large- filled with numerous patients, desks covered in magazines, cheap art  and worn-out chairs. I signed in and took a seat in the back of the lounge. Thirty minutes passed and still had not  been called. Impatient I walked over to the receptionist  desk and asked if the psych was still in. I was informed that Dr. A was still in a session with another patient and would be with me shortly.

Two hours later I was finally allowed to see the psych. His office was in the back of the building and it was filled with artifacts from around the world. Dr. A sat behind a large mahogany desk and he was covered in gold and platinum jewelry. He told me to sit down and informed me that he was the only psych in the area who could diagnose a patient in less than five minutes. (I know this might sound ludicrous, but this actually happened to me. He was a very sleazy man. Not only did he have a large platinum and diamond cross around his neck, but he also wore a rolex and numerous gem rings. On top of that he was ignorant and made numerous comments that degraded people with Bipolar Disorder). And he was right, he diagnosed me with Bipolar Disorder the moment I began describing my symptoms. I was put on depakote, however, that did not work as it made me insanly depressed. Then I was put on Abilify which lasted all of three days, but those three days were hell as I could not sit still or concentrate as I was constantly overcome with tremors. Next I was put on tegretol (oh and another thing, he was never available when I called his office. I always had to leave a message with his secretary. And it was always his secretary who would call back with an answer, as Dr. A was too busy to call me personally) and that seemed to work. However, as the week progressed I started to become very manic and very depressed. I began to realize that Dr. A was not the best psychiatrist for me, so I stopped seeing him. This was a very hard decision for me, as I am usually very scared of change as well as mortified by other people’s response to my actions (will I offend the psych if I no longer see him).

I am glad that I was able to break free from this psych and move on to someone new. It was around this time that I had started seeing a therapist and he suggested a psych that was highly regarded in the area. My therapist was right, the psych was amazing and within two weeks we both were able to workout a med cocktail that balanced my mind. I am still seeing this psych, as he is very empathetic and knowledgeable.”

Stay Strong!

Dave.

I’m Back for Real This Time!! All It Took was a Stay in the Psych Ward

For the first time in months, my mind is stable and I’m sober. The last six months have not been easy, but I’m glad that I survived my hellish experience. About a month ago, I was put into a psych ward due to  a horrible mixed episode- I was both manic and depressed, I had no control over my mind and I was a danger to myself and those around me. I was scared shitless when the nurses told me I was being transferred to an in-patient psychiatric unit (at that time I was attending a partial hospitalization program [php], an all day program that included various group activities like group therapy, psychodrama etc.

I had been in the program about a week and I thought it was helping, but I guess I was wrong). I was a fucking mess, my mind would not stop racing (the work Fuck kept cycling in my head), I kept clenching my jaws, I couldn’t sit still and I thought someone was out to get me. It was a horrible experience, that kept evolving. By the time I was transferred to in-patient, my mood state had gone out of control. Not only was I manic, I swung deep into depression. I no longer cared about my life and I was desperate for a change. The nurses noticed that I was erratic and contacted my Psychiatrist. He decided that I needed to be transferred to the psych ward (I didn’t have a choice. Although I signed papers claiming it was my idea, I was essentially transferred to in-patient without my consent)….

Begin put into a psych ward was the best thing that could have happened to me. Although I was scared (this was my first hospitalization) I learned a lot about myself. I worked closely with my doctor and eventually we found the right combination of meds. After a week, I was discharged and I thought everything was going well. I was about to hit another low.

When I got home, I realized the doctor had prescribed me Ativan (an anti-anxiety medication). Although I had been sober for a week, I really wanted to get high. So I crushed up and snorted six Ativans (I am lucky I didn’t kill myself). The next few hours I was a complete mess, I couldn’t walk, I couldn’t think, I pretty much fell over and black out. The next morning I woke up feeling like shit. Instead of hydrating myself, I found the bottle of Ativan and snorted two more. At that point I realized how much I fucked up, I couldn’t even function (I ended flushing the rest of the pills down the toilet, however, the damage was done). I called up a guy I knew from Narcotics Anonymous and begged him to help me. We talked for an hour and then he invited me to a meeting that night.

I don’t remember anything, I was so fucked up, that I had no clue what I was doing. I don’t remember my conversation, I don’t remember going to the NA meeting, fuck I don’t remember Sunday at all. All I know was that I was scared and ashamed of myself. I had spent a week in the psych ward, but it didn’t seem to help. This was the lowest low I had experienced. But I learned from my mistake.

I have been sober for almost 11 days. I now attended NA every night, and the PHP every morning and  afternoon. For the first time in seven years I want to stay sober and have a stable mind. It’s only been two weeks, but I am finally starting to feel better. Just the fact that I am writing again is indication that I am making progress (I have been unable to write the last few months due to my depression and drug use). For the first time in awhile I am comfortable in my own skin and happy to be David. I still have a long road ahead of me, but I am so happy that my life is finally turning around.

As my title states, I’m back for real this time! I’m excited to blog and I have missed the mental health community!

I hope you are all doing well and look forward to connecting with all of you. That is all for now.

Stay Strong!!

Dave.

A Return to Blogging

It has been awhile since my last entry. As I noted in my previous post, my computers died, both in the same week. It was weird not being able to connect to the internet, it felt like I had lost a part of my body.

But I am back.

The last week has been productive. I moved into a new apartment and I have been sober for 3 days (the longest stretch of sobriety in almost a year).

I have to stop writing, I took 900mg of Seroquel about 2 hours ago and I can barely keep my eyes open (since quitting Zoloft and Tegretol, I’ve had to increase my Seroquel intake by almost 400mg, my psychiatrist is not going to be happy).

I hope you are all doing well.

Dave.