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I invite you to look at my campaign, subscribe to it, share it, and if you would consider it – preordering a copy so I can get this message out into the world.
I invite you to look at my campaign, subscribe to it, share it, and if you would consider it – preordering a copy so I can get this message out into the world.
I don’t know if my official mental health diagnosis is bipolar II – or not. There appears to be no consensus on anything aside from the fact I have emotional dysregulation and severe insomnia issues. In my opinion, those two things are more than enough to make anybody go crazy. But mental health diagnosis or not, my life is full of highs and lows.
It bothers me when I don’t write in my blog. Not because I think my writing is doing anyone a public service, but because this forum is my outlet for internal rumination. And if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s internal rumination.
Life is filled with moments where we hope. And where we dream. I have learned to be wary of hope but to embrace dreams.
Not so long ago, I needed to go the dentist. It was a highly traumatic experience for me. With the level of trauma I had, you’d think I’d perhaps had a root canal, tooth extraction or dental implant. But no – I had a check-up.
I spend too much time talking about myself. There are some brilliant orators out there who articulate important things so much better than me. Here are three of my favourites talks about mental health. They are engaging and educational viewing, regardless of how well, or unwell, your particular mental state might be.
It’s six months today since I scoffed handfuls of pills. Six whole months. A lot has happened in that time and the […]
I’m aroused all the time. And not in a way that excites my husband. In November 2018, I took myself off for […]
I have severe restless legs syndrome (RLS). Fatigue Trouble sleeping Muscle tension or muscle aches Trembling, feeling twitchy Nervousness or being easily startled Sweating […]
Today I watched the film Embrace again. It should be compulsory viewing and reminded me that if I can’t love the body I’m in right now, I won’t love the body I dream of having. The perfect body is a perfect lie.
Highly sensitive people are often empathic and empaths often feel other people’s emotions radiating out like a solar flare. No amount of 50+ sunscreen can shield the soft flesh from the onslaught of heat – so we absorb it. Which is fine, because not all emotions are dreary. Joy, hope and excitement wash through me in the same way as grief, fear and despair. Trouble is – I don’t let it go. I spend more time grieving and despairing for someone else’s woes than they do. I’m more invested in other people’s problems than they are. This seems like an inappropriate boundary – not to mention, an excuse to stop dealing with my issues.
It takes very little time in the world of mental health treatments, before acronyms and mnemonics become everyday language. Psychiatric therapies have come a long way from the induced seizures, exorcisms and lobotomies of the past. Today there are countless methods of treatment – pharmacological, behavioural, community, and medical. Psychiatrists tend to be the big boss of drugs and medical treatments like ECT or TMS, while psychologists tend to deliver the behavioural and community therapies. And they love their acronyms. For anyone out there that hasn’t been blessed with the opportunity of gracing the couches and uncomfortable plastic chairs of therapy groups, I thought I’d share a summary of my experience of the ABCDs of therapy.
I don’t know where it comes from as I listened to it prattling away for half a century and it’s only recently I noticed another voice hidden in the background.
When the burden of being a burden becomes so burdensome the burden can no longer be bourne, it’s crunch time. Disappear into Wonderland with the big white rabbit, going permanently mad? Or just go – permanently? Or do what needs to be done and reach out? Clearly the latter is the healthier option.
I live in a state of being permanently temporary. I guess we all do to some extent… But since ceasing paid employment at the end of 2017, my routine has been – to put it mildly – flexible. I like it this way.
It’s very bad for me.