It’s a New Day, I’m feeling Slightly Better- Today’s Post is on Ways to Deal with Depression/Mania

A New Day, A new Beginning
A New Day, A new Beginning

So far today has been a lot better then yesterday, I guess writing out my frustrations helped to ease my mind, I still feel the same way, but at least the pain isn’t as bad. The odd thing, is how popular the post is. Maybe everyone wants to read my rants and see how bad my self-hatred is, or maybe it’s the title, or the keywords, or just luck. I’m not really certain, but I’m happy people read it. I’m definitely not perfect, and maybe someone out there read the post and realized they aren’t alone in this crazy world. That some days we just feel so horrible, it’s as if our minds are trying to destroy us. Or other days we feel like we’re drowning in the darkness of depression. But one thing is for certain, we can’t give up, no matter how hard it gets. We all have the strength to survive, we just have to latch onto something. For me, it’s my cat Domino. I love him dearly and he’s helped me over the years. In fact, if it wasn’t for him I don’t know how far I would have gotten. Yes I know a lot of it was me, but it helps to have something to grab onto (it doesn’t matter what it is, as long as you can hold on tight and know that it will pull you out of your hell). It also helps to have a hobby; mine’s watching TV and playing video games (I love being able to escape from reality and drift off into a new word that doesn’t demand anything from me or judge me, a place where my depression seems to evaporate and I feel invincible).

I guess that’s what today’s post is going to be about, ways to deal with manic/depressive episodes. For the longest time I suffered from severe mixed episodes and/or rapid cycling (it really depends on which doctor you talk to, as both episode types are very similar). I could have multiple episodes in a day, swinging from severe depression to extreme mania and back again- sometimes this happened in the same hour and it got really stressful, even frightening. There were days I just wanted it all to end and unfortunately I self medicated to compensate. It started with alcohol.

Alcohol is not a good way to deal with depression/mania
Alcohol is not a good way to deal with depression/mania


Some quick background: In high school I never drank or used drugs. In fact I never went to parties, or hung out with people after school. When I got to college I was desperate to fit in, so I hung out with the football team and started to drink with them. My first night drinking I blacked out after having over 15 beers. I thought it was great, I was “fitting” and I loved the buzz. I started drinking regularly and would party with the football team. My drinking increased as I tried to keep up with offensive linemen and feel to peer pressure. A few months into my drinking, I went to a party at the baseball house and went crazy, I ended up blacking out for almost 16 hours, waking up in a pool of vomit-well there was vomit everywhere. I convinced myself I would never drink again and it was on that day my anxiety and paranoia was born. The football players messed with my head when I asked them what happened and it escalated to the point where I was afraid to leave my dorm room. I was convinced they were stalking me and trying to destroy my life. I was also convinced everyone else was after me, so I locked myself in my room and only left for class. Because of this, I developed agoraphobia and social anxiety.

As this increased I started to drink again, this time while I was alone. I started spending the weekends at my parent’s house and my dad found out I had been drinking. I thought he was going to be pissed, but it was the opposite, he was ecstatic because he had finally found a drinking buddy.  It was around this time my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer and to cope with the stress I started drinking excessively. It was the first time I used alcohol to deal with depression…my mom is ok now, she has been in remission for over 8 years…Fast forward a few years. I was working the night shift at a hotel and I was a full blown alcoholic. My doctor was worried that I was killing my liver so she demanded that I stopped drinking. She also prescribed an anti-depressant, which actually led me to quit drinking. But at the same time it caused my mania to grow, I just didn’t know it at the time. I was sober for about a week until I started smoking weed to fill the void. Overtime I developed a heavy habit, I also started to abused pain killers and benzos. Because of the drug abuse my mental stability was shattered. I caused my episodes to increase in intensity and frequency. Eventually I was diagnosed Bipolar type I, with OCD, severe social anxiety, PTSD and addiction. It took me a few years to quit using and by the time I did, I ended up in a mental hospital after dropping out of graduate school (sorry for skipping  a lot of my story, I’m late for work and it there is to much for just one post. I’ll come back to it in the future) and spent the next two years isolated in my apartment while I recovered. During these two years, anxiety increased exponentially and depression became severe. There were times I didn’t think I would make it, but a few things helped me through this period (well that was a lot longer of a background then I had anticipated, but now we are back to the discussion on ways to cope).



When my depression got really bad, I found that doing something mindless really helped: watching TV, cleaning, playing with Domino, playing video games etc. That Is one of the things I’ve told people to do when dealing with depression (or anxiety, or mania), it doesn’t have to be what I suggested. Rather, the idea is to do something you love, while spending as little effort as possible. The reason is that it allows your mind to relax and escape, you aren’t adding to the stress and you are giving yourself a chance to breath. That’s why I love TV. Not only do I get to relax, but I can lose myself in TV show without spending much effort, further, I can stop anytime I want  or go as long as I want. The idea is to just escape. Another thing I loved to do is listen to a book on tape, the idea is the same as I don’t have to spend much energy and I can let my mind wander and for that bit of time I can forget about my struggles. The goal is to find something you love and to have it available so that if you feel depressed or anxious, or unstable you can help yourself heal. Another thing that helps is talking with someone, just having some human contact can help alleviate the stress and again can help you escape from your worries (you don’t have to do this in person, in fact you could just text). Taking a shower is another great way to relax and the concept once again is similar, allowing your mind to wander and for you to have some quite and some peaceful time where you can forget about your worries.

For me, finding something that allows me to escape into another reality helps almost as much as therapy (furthermore, it allows me to deal with my depression without having resort to illicit drugs. Although there are days where I struggle to keep those thoughts in check, but I’m human and not infallible). Also therapy, for me, helps tremendously but it’s not for everyone. The idea is to find someone you can talk to, who is both willing to listen and provide feedback (it can be a friend, a trusted relative, a teacher, a pastor/rabbi, someone you meet on the street, or even a journal. The reason I put a journal, is that it allows you to get your thoughts and feelings onto paper and in doing so, you can step back and examine what you have been going through. It gives a new perspective that you might not have seen before).

Hope for a better future
Hope for a better future


I’m going to end this post with question: how do you deal with depression/mania and do you have any tips or tricks that you do to help keep yourself sane (or at least provide yourself with some comfort)? I’m always looking for ways to help myself when I’m struggling and I know there are things I’ve yet to do.

Wow this has been the longest post I’ve written in quite some time.

I hope you are all well and look forward to hearing from you,


Why Do I Spend So much Time Avoiding My Life and Responsibility?? Why Am I So Confused???

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I spend quite a bit of time procrastinating and avoiding my responsibilities. My heart is racing right now because I’m supposed to be outside making sales, but instead I’m sitting on the computer wasting time. I really don’t know why. And the sad thing is my livelihood is on the line- if I don’t make enough money this month I might be homeless, but instead of having the motivation to get out there and hustle, I’m avoiding life and responsibility. I don’t know why I keep doing this to myself, it drives me crazy that I waste so much time. I really don’t enjoy sitting here doing nothing, especially where it causes my anxiety to increase and in doing so makes it even harder for me to get out.

But I keep doing it.

On top of that, I’m not even spending the extra time working on increasing my blog’s readership, which is something I want to do, but as usual I’ve spent all day doing nothing and disliking every minute of it. I know that I’m lazy, I have been for many years. But what I don’t understand is why I can’t break this fucking habit. I’ve tried over the years to break it, but to no avail.  I just don’t have the drive and/or energy (which is also the same excuse I give for not having friends, or why I’m not interested in dating). I know it sounds pathetic, I fully realize that, I’m disgusted with myself (I know what you are going to say, if you really are so frustrated with yourself why not change. And David don’t tell me “you don’t know” it’s a fucking cop out– which is what I’m screaming at myself right now. Great now I’m having three conversations in my head, this is getting confusing). 

Ugh. This all started senior year of high school. I got accepted to Whittier College at the beginning of the school year and spent the rest of the year doing absolutely nothing. I dropped out of all of my advanced science classes, switched to finite math and stopped doing my homework as I found that I could get A’s on all of my tests my tests and still pass (I did, however, stay in AP English and European history as both subjects were a passion of mine). I convinced myself that I could take the year off because when I started college I’d go back to working hard. Unfortunately, I was mistaken. My laziness carried over and I spent little time studying during college; although I did graduate with honors, multiple degrees and I was able graduate a year early. The reason this was possible was due to the fact that all three of my majors (Political Science, History and Religious Studies) were writing intensive (something I’m gifted at) and I was able to figure out how to make each of my AP credits worth triple the amount of college credits. Again, I convinced myself that once I graduated college I would start working hard, but my laziness continued as I found jobs that were made easy by my talents. Fast forward a decade and you can see why I’m struggling to break this habit. 

I really wish I could go back to my senior year of high school and kick my younger self in the ass, to stop this annoying cycle. So I’m really fucking stuck. Yes, I know I shouldn’t be using this as an excuse, but I can’t figure out any other reasoning for my lack of motivation. 

Now that I look back on this post, self-pity bullshit and I’m sorry for subjecting you to this (actually I don’t know what really is going on, my head is throbbing, my heart is racing and I’m having a hard time concentrating. I’m still wasting time when I should be working and it’s stressing me out. I’m ready to cry because I just can’t get it through my fucking head. I don’t know why I keep doing this. I don’t understand why I can’t take responsibility for my life, why do I hide from everything, why do I spend so little time on my life, bitch and moan when things get fucked up and then go to my therapist and tell her how messed up my life is. I’m just a stubborn piece of shit. FUCK I’m still doing it, I’m still going through my self-pity mode and for fuckssake why the hell am I sitting here at my keyboard instead of outside working.

Why the fuck do I keep doing this to myself.

Why am I so bent on destroying my life?

Why can’t I take responsibility for my future?

Why the fuck am I so lazy?

I just can’t figure this shit out and now I don’t even know how I’m supposed to fucking make any sales with my head ready to explode on top of that I still owe my friend $300 which I’m supposed to be making right now, but instead I’m still just typing, still just avoiding it. Not to mention the money I owe my parent’s, the rent that I have to pay, the bills I owe, or the fact that I still can’t get myself to shower, still can’t shave, still can’t clean my room, my car, my clothes. I just don’t fucking do anything but complain. What the fuck is my problem??????????????

This is bullshit.

Manic Depressive Illness: Looking at the Root of My Mental Health and Examining My Past

Root of Life
Root of Life

I hope everyone has been having a great week and hopefully things haven’t gotten too bad…I wanted to start this post by saying how hard it’s been this week to write and that my mind was racked with pain, which is exactly what I wrote in my head but I’m having a hard time forming the actual sentences. As usual I’ve been putting off blogging all day and because of this I’m struggling to produced a post. Couple that with the anxiety of having to work and you can see why it’s been hard to write this afternoon. Not to mention the fact that my head is begin clouded by an annoying voice constantly telling me how bad the post is, how many times I over used the word “and,” why I’m horrible writer and that I tend to shift past and present tenses within the same post which would drive my high school English teachers crazy (which actually is the truth as I still struggle with past/present tense which is evident in a lot of my posts, although I try my hardest to make them uniform, sometimes it just doesn’t work). On the subject of high school English, I’m going to continue my story from a few posts ago, although not in the exact time period we are going to fast forward a few years (don’t worry we will revisit my original diagnosis and what happened afterwards, I just wanted to write about my middle and high school  years, or at least bits and pieces of them. Hopefully I can keep all of the time periods together in my head, if not then we will have quite the jumbled life story. If it works it will be art! *chuckles to self*)

It had been a few years since I was originally diagnosed with ADD and my parent’s had moved my sister and I to a new city. Not knowing anyone, it was hard for me to make new friends, let alone talk with other people. Well actually that is not entirely true, come to think of it I was a pretty talkative kid. That’s right, it wasn’t until college that my anxiety developed and I lost my extroverted ways. In fact as a kid I was really hyper and constantly trying to talk with everyone (hence the ADD). I think it was the awkwardness of being “different,” coupled with moving to a new city that made it hard for me to make friends. I did make one friend, however, his name was Robert. He was the same age as me and we both hit it off on video games and seemed to have pretty similar tastes. Unfortunately, his current friend was extremely possessive of him and didn’t really like me (this part is really hazy, I vaguely remember him but I might be confusing him with someone I knew later in life), however, when our school trip arrived he was unable to join our class due to his mother being paranoid that he might get hurt or sick. It was because of his absence that our friendship grew. In fact, when we got back to school his family invited me to join them at the Long Beach Grand Prix (it’s a massive street circuit motor race that was held a few cities over from where we lived), which was their annual family tradition. This was huge for me as I had never been invited anywhere as well as having a “real” friend…

Well I take that back, I did have one “friend” in elementary school. His name was Christopher. I remember going over to his parent’s condo in Long Beach and playing an airplane simulator on his parent’s computer. In fact I still remember where they lived and I can picture their condo/house in my head. It was a tri-level, smashed in between two other tri-levels at the entrance of a residential neighborhood. There were trees in front of it, and their door faced out towards the main highway. Now the reason I put friend in quotations, was due to something that happened later on. We were close for the first few years of elementary school, however, in fourth grade he was invite to join the GATE (gifted and talented education) program. Unlike most schools, our’s segregated the GATE program from the rest of the school as they believed the progress of the gifted children would be hindered by the “normals.” In fact, the GATE program had portable classrooms that were completely isolated from the rest of the school and on top of that the GATE students would eat lunch at a different time then the rest of us.

End of Friendship
End of Friendship

At first Christopher was the same, we still hung out during recess and went to each other’s homes after school. However, as time went on he began to change. He became distant, arrogant, corrupted. I don’t know what happened, but one day we got into an argument, or maybe he taunted me, or maybe something was said, but all I remember is that I charged at him and pulled a Mike Tyson- I bit his hear and pulled a small chunk off (this was before the famous Mike Tyson fight). What happened afterwards is a bit hazy, I didn’t get suspended or even a detention, we just never talked again. And if we saw each other on the playground we walked the other way. This exemplifies how unstable I was as a child, as without thinking I partook in a violent act towards another human being, something that was not normal for me. I think I had already been diagnosed with ADD at that point and that’s why I got away without much punishment, but I’m not really certain. All I know is, that was a defining moment in my life as it would seem my “friendships” over the next decade would all be unstable, volatile and in a turn of karma extremely painful for me. This includes Robert.

My life is very disjointed, quite like this post. Everything that has happened to me has led from one painful moment to another, each growing in size until they all culminated in my psychiatric hospitalization. Most of my blog has been about the time after the hospitalization and how I have coped with my mental illness. What my goal for the next month is to pull back and examine my life prior to my hospitalization, so as to ascertain the root of my struggles and maybe gain a better understanding of myself in the process. I have no clue how this will proceed as my mood still changes rapidly, but I’m hoping to spend most of my posts examining my past (this will be very painful for me, as I have tried hard to forget a lot of my past and have spent a great deal of energy burying the memories, but I think it’s necessary for me to look at my past.  Plus some of you guys might find it interesting).

I hope you guys will join me as I venture through my past and who knows, maybe something amazing will happen. I also want to open up some of my posts to your guys questions, so if you have anything you specifically would like me to write about, or if you have a suggestion on what time period I should examine, please write a comment on this post.

Well that’s all for now. My eyes are dry and as usual I’m late for work.


Ps. Just to let you know, not every post will be about my past, most days I have no clue what I’m going to write as I formulate and structure everything while I type. I guess that’s one of my talents. I never had to create outlines while working on school papers as I was able to write a structured report in my first draft, I don’t know how it works, the words just seem to flow out of my head and through my hands as I type. It just happens, I guess subconsciously I’m drafting everything.

Domino Demands: Can I haz Ur Blog Post

As I’m sitting here falling asleep in front of my computer, I realized I hadn’t posted today. I don’t want to break my promise of writing everyday for 30 days, so this evening will be a fast post, I have no clue what it will be about, but rather a stream through my mind.

Today was a weird day, I saw my therapist for the first time in three weeks (she was on vacation) and the session was a bit stressful. Unfortunately, I got there late, which usually isnt somethasdflaksdjfal;sdjfl;aksdjf.

Hello humans, this is David’s son Domino, I just wanted to say hi to the world in my own style: 


Commanding his Troops
Commanding his Troops
Don't steal my towel!!
Don’t steal my towel!!
Why are you looking at me like that !?
Why are you looking at me like that !?
Bow Before Me!!
Bow Before Me!!
What are these infernal things doing on my back?
What are these infernal things doing on my back?
That's me before a few days before I met my daddy.
That’s me before a few days before I met my daddy.

(noises rumbling in the background, squeaky things everywhere and what’s this, a squishy ball? I must smell it, and I need to re-smell the entire area around said ball. I guess I can let the human have his blog back. Meow…)

Sorry everyone, well honestly I’m pooped. I think Domino and I are going to call it a night.

I hope you are all well🙂

Dave and Domino.

Withdrawal Hell Consumes Me

Today started out so promising, but as the day wore on my withdrawals got worse. Now I’m just a pile of nerves looking for various things to do while I wait for the pain to go away or at least keep my mind off of the constant shivers, muscle spasms, odd tingly feeling, fever aches, nausea and just plain old despair. Whatever you do don’t go on Subutex (and if you do don’t stay on for very long, I’ve been on it for over two years and my body is a slave to it now) , although it helped me immensely, the withdrawals are a bitch. I’m not going to quit as it has kept me away from opiates and I’m afraid that once I go off I’ll go right back to using (and this is true, the subutex is the only thing keeping me from using oxy and heroin, there are times I just want to quit the subutex and go right back to using, but I have to catch myself and remember how bad it got which can be hard due to the opiates becoming a psychological crutch for me when dealing with society. For the longest time I was convinced I couldn’t deal with other people unless I was high, even today I really struggle with this), unfortunately I ran out a few days ago and I’m now in a living hell-maybe this is exactly what I wanted deep down, I tend to do things like this to myself, constantly sabotaging my progress, constantly putting myself through painful situations hoping that one day I crack. And when that happens the lights would truly go out. I just hope that day never comes.

Well that is all for now, I apologize for the short post, but I wanted to get on here and update everyone especially where I stated I’m going to write 30 days straight. I really want to make that goal as it would help greatly with my self-esteem and maybe prove to myself that I can accomplish whatever I want.

Thanks for the previous comments I will be continuing the story tomorrow, hopefully, as long as my mind is somewhat stable.

I hope you are all doing well,


Life Is Confusion and My Mind is Filled With Broken Memories


I really don’t know how to start this post so I will just write whatever comes to my head. The reason is that I’m scared to write. I scared to accept the fact that I’m a writer and I have something to offer society. And my mind is convinced that if accept that fact, then maybe I actually have a future. For the last 7 years I have been in a non-stop battle royal with my brain. For the longest time I was convinced my brain was a corporeal being that was trying to kill. But after awhile I realized that it was just my self-pity and self-hatred taking over my mind and my body. It was the constant pain of depression and uncontrollable impulses from my mania. So when combined together I had a lethal ticking time bomb of a brain. Eventually I ended up in the hospital, met my current psychiatrist and found my current therapist-both of whom have saved my life and shown me that there is a future for me and that I don’t have to succumb to the dark thoughts in my head. The problem was that I had been so used to the emotional turmoil and endless depression, that I started to sabotage myself (this is examining what happened the last few months, eventually I will go back and write about my pre-hospitalization days but it’s going to take some time as the memories are painful and hard to deal with. I’ve spent a lot of time trying to suppress them. But I think that is part of the problem, so maybe writing about my past can give me some closure) through destructive behavior, drug overdoses, excessive eating, lethargy, agoraphobic isolation and numerous other “activities.”

I was desperate to not accept happiness.

Fear of happiness. Loss of innocence.


For some odd reason I started to believe that I didn’t deserve to be happy, that I was worthless and that no one cared about me. I believe these thoughts began in high school, when I was “deathly” afraid dying. I would wake up in the middle of the night unable to breath. When I calmed myself down, my mind started to examine death, the fact that in the near future I would no longer exist, that I would enter an endless void where I no longer thought, acted or spoke, rather I would just disappear from existence. These thoughts haunted me for many years and it got to the point that I had to constantly tell myself “go away bad thoughts” “go away bad thoughts” “go away bad thoughts” over and over again, till the voice and fear of death dissipated. I remember vividly ridding the exercise bike in my parent’s living room while watching a TV show, my mind had begun to wander and thought of death and failure overwhelmed me, it was the first time that my self-hatred began. It was also at that point I finally told my mom I couldn’t remember my childhood; in fact I couldn’t remember anything prior to 5th grade, save for a few disjointed memories (I still don’t remember much of my childhood, which drives me crazy as I have a photographic memory and have the ability to remember places, conversations, emotions and people perfectly, in fact sometimes it’s so vivid that I completely leave reality.

But I can’t remember my childhood.

It’s completely blank.

Absolute nothingness.

Confusion, fear, hopelessness


One of my therapist told me it was brain trying to empty itself of useless memories, to allow for new memories to form. Bullshit. If that was the case then why can I remember almost everything that has happened to me since the 5th grade, but prior to that nothing exists. My mom was at first confused, then frustrated, then angry. It was as if I had accused her of being a bad parent and causing me to have a horrible childhood. But that wasn’t the case, in fact the few memory fragments I have left are extremely happy and joyful memories, or at least the emotions that are still left in my mind are those of happiness and love. I had to explain to my mom that it had nothing to do with my upbringing, or my parent’s parenting. Rather, I was convinced it was due to the therapy I had to go through.*

*I need to pull back a bit so as to provide you with some background. At the age of 7 I was diagnosed with ADD by this child psychiatrist my parent’s had found. I remember two things, she gave me poppy seed muffins and had me take the Rorschach test. She was friendly and kind. It seemed like she cared about my well being. I vaguely remember sitting in a chair that was facing her, both of us were sitting in front of a window and across the way in the other room was a massive window overlooking LA (I’m just remembering this, it’s been years since I’ve thought about this psychiatrist and these experiences. I’m surprised I even remember them. But right now I can see myself sitting in front of the psychiatrist while she administers the Rorschach test. According to my parents I also took an IQ test, they refused to tell me what score I had received because they didn’t want me to become like my uncle who had scored genius level on the IQ test and was an arrogant, stubborn and angry scientist. My only guess is that I must have scored as high as my Uncle did, otherwise why would my parents have hid the test from me. They also told me when I was “of age” they would show me my IQ score, but according to my dad it was lost a long time ago. Let’s get back to the story of my diagnosis. Eventually the psychatrist determined that I had ADD, my dad was devastated but my mom who is rock of our family pushed forward and asked what she could do to help me (it took my dad awhile to come to terms with my diagnosis.

He saw it as his fault that I had been born like this and that he had failed as a father. It saddens me to see my dad suffer like this, and although I have talked with my dad about what I’ve gone through, it has only been a few times. Although, my dad did save my life as he talked me through an extremely unstable and violent manic episode. Well now that I think about it, my dad has come around quite a bit as I’ve finally told him about the extent of my drug use and how bad it had gotten. That I had overdosed numerous times and was mentally unstable. I told everything and although I was scared, I was able to finally talk with my dad as son, instead of as a friend (for the longest time all of my conversations with my dad were about sports and politics, nothing else. The reasoning behind this is another complicated matter, lets just leave it as being a result of abusive and unloving parents. Something my dad has fought hard to overcome).

Following my diagnosis, my parents searched for the perfect therapist and they found one in Dr. V. At that point we were given the option of medication or intensive cognitive behavioral therapy.

I’m going to stop this post right here, I know it’s in the middle of the story, but I want to know from readers if you guys are interested in hearing more about my childhood and the struggles I went through while dealing with mental illness at a young age.

I hope you are all doing well and I look forward to hearing from you,


Even When I’m Stable, It Feels Like I’m Lost in a Dark Hole

Right now I’m going through hell. As usual I ran out of my subutex and now I’m experiencing horrible opiate withdrawals. Every month I do this, and every time I want to die; in fact I tried overdosing a couple of times, my drug of choice being ambien. What’s scary was, I blacked out one night during an ambien bender, and woke up the next morning to find half my my carpet burned, my keyboard melted, and multiple blisters on my right hand. I guess while I was blacked out I torched my apartment some how. And things only got worse when I realized I had taken the entire bottle of ambien (30 pills). This isn’t the first time this has happened. The day I got out of the psych-ward I overdosed on ativan- I was so desperate to get high


(being that I was initially in the out patient program I had to take a drug test weekly, which meant no more weed or pills. It was an insanely hard period of my life. Not only was I unstable, but I lost the one thing that made me feel sane. Yes, I self medicated, yes it was a bad choice. But unfortunately at the time I thought it was the only way to stop the dark thoughts in my head as well as allow me to converse with other people. And that was the biggest problem, after awhile opiates became a crutch as it allowed me to be a boisterous and gregarious person, constantly talking with everyone and participating in class or in various activities. But like most addicts it got to a point where I was so out of control that my body started to fall apart. Well it was more my mind. There are two points in my life when I had a massive breakdown that had been fueled by drugs. One happened in 2009, right after I quit working for the labor union and hotel- this is a story for another day. And the other one happened in 2011 while I was in graduate school at Claremont School of Theology. I had become so erratic and unstable that one of the professors suggested I should go a hospital or at least an out patient program- I have to thank that professor as he indirectly saved my life. I had to drop out of Claremont due to “mental health reasons,” which is what Claremont put on my record. About a month later I was committed to a psych ward and met my current psychiatrist. At that point I had gone through 3 horrible doctors, all of whom took advantage of me or messed with my head. Dr. G however, was kind and structured. He examined my files, asked me numerous questions and then consulted his books and notes, coming up with a med cocktail that finally calmed my mind down. It was a miracle. He also prescribed me Subutex as a way to stop the cravings and help me move forward with my life).

psychiatry problem

I’m using the above cartoon as a way to show the dichotomy of pharmaceuticals and how they have taken complete control over patient care. Over the last couple of years, I’ve come across all different types of people, who have both been deeply hurt and helped by medication.  And that is what makes it so controversial. Is it worth taking a life threatening risk so that we can be stable? 

Sorry for the long tangent, because my whole body is in pain and my mind is mushy, the words that are flowing out of my mind and into my hands are quite disjointed. But rest assured I will explain everything that has happened in my life, looking back at what my childhood was like, how my mind evolved over time, how I dealt with being diagnosed Bipolar, how I dealt with drug addiction and withdrawals and most importantly what it’s like to bipolar type 1 in today’s society.

My life has taken me to the depths of hell and back. But I wouldn’t change if I was given a chance to go back in time and start all over. The reason being, is that mental illness, the struggle and the drug addiction all humbled me. It showed me how dark life can be and it made me realize how unrealistic our dreams are when in school. Maybe that’s just me as I’ve lost all of my hopes and dreams for a better future

(everything I’ve wanted to do has not panned out and now I’m stuck with endless emptiness and a perpetual feeling of hopelessness. At this point I have no clue what I want to do with my life, I no longer have a dream I’m striving for, rather I’m spending most of my time in a fantasy world created by TV shows. Because I quit using opiates I had to put my addictive nature towards something else, so TV shows became my top choice. I would watch 10+ hours a day and I would feel at home. Not only was I able to escape my life, but the characters became my friends. Real friends that don’t judge or try to take advantage of me because I’m so kind towards other people. Rather, the characters in the show provide me with comfort. Yes I know this perverts the who social thing, but it’s the only thing I’ve found that has curbed my addictions and depression. The sad thing is I only have one friend, he is 20 years older then me, but he is a truly amazing human being. Because I was struggling to pay my rent, he offered me a chance to live with him and his wife. At first I was going to say no, as I hate change and I especially hated the fact that I would have to live with other people. However, my fears ended up being baseless, as I’m left alone and allowed to isolate hours on end. But M and his family (3 kids and the wife) are there for me when I need to talk with someone. M has gone through similar experiences as I’ve gone through. But the biggest thing is that he is optimistic about everything. Although I’m nice and polite to other people, I’m a pessimist. I hate everything, or at least I did. It got so bad that even my last therapist made rude comments to me about being so negative. But I’m trying, I’m working hard to change my entire attitude, so that I’m more accepting of other people as well as accepting the life I was dealt.

My life seems to be a lost cause, but deep down I know there has to be something that is ready to break out and allow me to pursue my next “unknown” dream.

hope and candle

I don’t know if this post works, it’s kind of my thoughts and memories merging together in a disjointed matter. Hopefully it sparks some discussion or at least brings everyone closer. As I’ve said in my previous posts I want to work hard to make this into a thriving and safe community for everyone to take part in. If you have friends or relatives who suffer from mental illness, have them read my, it would mean so much to me.

Well that is the end of Today’s post and this is also the first day of my 30 day writing challenge.

I hope everyone had a great week,


Tomorrow I Start my 30 day posting challenge

I finally decided that I want to write a post every day for a month. This will be a great way to get me back into writing as well as build my confidence. I’m really looking forward to this because I have so much to post about, so many things that I need to get out of my head and onto paper (well in this case blog posts). Further, during the week I’m going to work hard on building up my readership, through the use of my twitter, LinkedIn and Facebook account. As well as participating in various forums and commenting on different blogs. I’m sorry if this seems egotistical and partially narcissistic, but I really love this blog, it means a lot to me as I’ve been posting on and off for the last 3 years, which means this blog is now the longest project/activity I’ve ever worked on. Furthermore I love my readers, you guys have made such an impact on my life and helped me through some of the darkest points of my life. Every time I read your comments it reminds me of the kindness of humanity and gives me hope that there is goodness in everyone’s heart. Further, it means a lot to me that my posts have made a difference in your guy’s lives, and my hope for this blog is to turn it into a thriving community that provides a safe place to talk, comment and work towards a better future.

Well that is all for now, I need to leave in a bit for work (I’m currently doing door-to-door sales, which has been an amazing experience thus far. I will write about it in a future post).

I hope you have been well and I hope that everyone has a wonderful and restful Friday afternoon.


Ps. I was wondering if you guys have anything specifically you want me to write about (whether it’s about my own life, or what it might be like to deal with mental illness in today’s society, or how psychology and psycho-pharmacology has changed over the years). If you want, post a comment on this post about topics you guys might be interested in, as I have a lot of writing ahead of me🙂

PPS. I’ve just registered my blog on paperblog as a way to possibly bring more exposure to this community. I’m looking forward to seeing what will happen in the coming weeks. 

Hope for a Better Future or Am I Just a Confused Mess?

Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow. The important thing is not to stop questioning.

-Albert Einstein

Does hope really exist? Can we learn from our past mistakes and push forward to a new beginning? Can I hope for a better life or will my future be devoid of happiness? These questions have been swirling around my head the last few weeks as I’ve tried to understand what has happened to my life. Last week I took a long shower and bemoaned the fact that my life has completely stalled; ever since graduating high school I’ve been in a never ending free fall. Do I deserve hope? Do I deserve a better life? At times I truly believe that I deserve all of the horrible things that have happened in my life, but that is just me feeling sorry for myself. And that’s the problem. For the last couple of years I’ve become used to self pity and self hatred. I don’t know why, but the feeling of despair can some times be comforting. I’m at a loss. On one hand I really want a better future for myself, I want to become self sufficient, I want to move forward and allow myself to heal. But I also believe I’m doomed to live a horrible life.

Honestly, I don’t know where I’m going with this. I have a sore throat and my head is fuzzy (this is the first time in over 3 years that I’ve been sick, so I was not prepared for what would happen. I guess this is what I get for living with other people. My brain has been quite jumbled the last few days and I hope this ends soon), but the above questions are pertinent as I have been struggling to understand if I deserve to be hopeful. I guess the answer is yes, I really do want to make a difference, I really do want to get better and maybe have a life worth living.

Sorry for the odd post, I just haven’t written in awhile and I wanted post something. It’s frustrating, everyday I log onto my blog and everyday I can’t get myself to write. It’s frustrating because I love writing, it makes me feel amazing and it’s something I’m good at. But that might be the problem (just as I pointed out above), maybe I’ve convinced myself I don’t deserve to be happy, so instead of doing something I love, I torture myself. I constantly tell myself I’m going to blog more often, but like most things in my life I just ignore it and pretend I’m living in a fantasy. I just can’t get myself to do something consistently, which has been a major problem the last few years (well more like the last decade).

I’m going to stop my post here as it’s not making much sense.

I wanted to ask you guys, what are some good ways I could get myself to start hoping for a better future and to write more consistently? How do you guys deal with the feeling of hopelessness?

I hope you have all been well and I look forward to our future conversations🙂