Hello, again, anonymous world...hope someone is listening to these meandering thoughts...

Well, I finally graduated law school, and did actually secure a job with a firm that knows I'm crazy, so which one is more crazy: me or them?

I am still waiting to hear on the final approval on my application to take the bar. Yes, you have to go through 2 applications here: one as a law student, and another when you graduate. Again, they asked for information on the state of my mental health. Geez, I wanted to state my mental health is fine, but I was beginning to wonder about the state's. So, I signed the same releases for the same doctors for the same medications. And I wait some more. But it's only been 3 months so far. I figure I have at least another one to go.

Oh, and another lovely gift I have from lithium: gout! Yes, I know it sounds like something that should have gone the way of pirate ships, like scurvy, but it is actually so painful that I thought my foot was fractured. Turns out that my very astute doctor, putting together the fact that my kidneys may not be at peak functionality after 7 years on the big L, and the redness/pain/near wetting myself as he moved my big toe, ordered a uric acid test, and TA DA! While my uric acid wasn't out of the normal range, it was high enough for the doctor to say he was pretty sure I was developing gout because my kidneys weren't filtering the uric acid properly because of the years I spent on Lady Lithium. Wonderful. I spent 6 weeks on a cane. That's not a good fashion statement. Take it from me.

But on the lighter side, he gave me the perfect excuse to not eat salads. He said too much roughage can aggravate the condition. Ha ha! Screw you, eDiets!

Well, my lovelies, cue the band, because it is time for me to fade back into obscurity...the real world is waiting and my facade must be redonned...

Until next time, remember that Billy Joel was right that we all have a mask that we hide away and only put on when everyone has gone...is yours satin, steel, lace or leather?
posted by Rising at 8:31 AM

Back again for more babbling...

More good news, folks...the bar approved my character and fitness examination. They looked into my background for SIX MONTHS versus the six weeks it took most students to get an approval letter. They really did get all of my medical and therapy records. The most ironic thing is that they fully investigated my discrimination complaint against my former employer. Despite his attempts to color the truth (I am trying to be diplomatic, so feel free to infer what you will), the bar said that they believe that I am managing my illness. They did caution me that if there is evidence that I fail to control it, they will revoke my approval. But, that's not going to happen, folks, and not because of any threats by any bureaucrats but because this is MY LIFE!

I have finally gotten on a medication that works even better for me than lithium. For those of you out there still searching for a good stabilizer, ask your doctor about Topamax. It's an epileptic medication but I am as well controlled by it as I was with lithium without the nasty side effects. The first week was REALLY rough as far as side effects go (I couldn't finish a sentence because I would completely lose simple words), but after that, FANTASTIC!

I took a class last semester about the law concerning mental illness. A few of my classmates and the professor knew of my situation, but most didn't and still don't. After some classes, I left feeling actually physically ill because of the ignorance. I am shocked at how many educated people would still lock me up and throw away the key without knowing anything about me besides my diagnosis. I am truly terrified that some of these future lawyers would completely take away my fundamental human rights to control my own life just because my brain is hard-wired differently than theirs. I have news for them -- mental illness is increasing exponentially in society and someday, we will outnumber them....

I will soon be writing a column for the school diversity newsletter on mental health issues. While I am excited, I also feel an awesome sense of responsibility to educate my classmates. I hope that I can convey that my brain is not "defective" or "wrong" or "bad." I just think and feel and experience life differently than they do. And maybe, just maybe, my life is better in some ways because of it. Because of my illness, I have genuinely laughed and genuinely grieved. I have experienced "rock bottom" in its purest essence and euphoria beyond anything drugs can give you. I have sobbed for hours and been "ten foot tall and bullet proof." I have spent days in bed unable to even shower and accomplished a months' worth of work in a matter of days. I have confronted fear and hate and love and self-loathing and regret and shame and every emotion along the gamut AND TRULY FELT THEM ALL. How many people can say that?

I medicate not because I "have to." I medicate because my life is better. I am better when I take my medication. I don't hurt myself, and I don't hurt my relationships with others. I don't self-destruct and I don't embarass or worry those who care about me. I like the merry-go-round more than the roller coaster. But I am glad that I have ridden both.

So, the question I leave you with for today is this -- for all the garbage you piled up because of your situation, what are the nuggets of gold?
posted by Rising at 8:00 PM

Thanks for the patience and checking back to my return visitors; to those who are new, welcome to the Rabbit Hole!!!

Well, what a life-changing 2 months it has been, folks! First, the really encouraging news -- I was released from therapy. Now, don't misread that -- I will always be medicated -- but I no longer have to pay for the privilege of spilling my guts to someone who is paid to care. Wow, when I look back, it has been a strange and miraculous journey over the past 6 years and I feel really inspired by the fact that I have been deemed to face the world alone.

I was talking the other night about what it's like to be a functional bipolar. The undiagnosed (my new term instead of "normal" -- kinda funny, huh?) always say, "I just don't know how you do it." Well, I don't really dwell on it; I just do what I have to to survive each day -- the old "one-foot-in-front-of-the-other, breathe-in/breathe-out" approach to life. But when I really stop to try to imagine my life without this illness, I have to honestly say now that I would miss it.

My life is much richer for the experience of living it alternatively. I have found passions I might have never known because of this journey. I have found a career path and a gentleness to life that I know for a fact I could have never found without it. I am more tolerate and more assertive at the same time. My outlook on the world is kinder but also more determined to change injustices. I am truly a deeper, stronger person. There was a time when I would have given up my illness gladly; now I'm not sure I would -- I am thankful for the hard work and insight the last six years have given me.

Until I have another moment to write, ponder this --

Would the scenic route be as scenic without rocks and cliffs as well as streams and foliage?


posted by Rising at 3:19 PM

Hey, folks, those of you who have been here before expect an apology for the time between posts ... consider me apologetic...

I want to thank those of you who have taken the time to sign my guestbook; it's nice to know that these little rants have been useful to someone other than me and I hope that you find a little encouragement here. Just know you are not alone in this battle...

I did finally find a group to fund my medication; too bad it took me being the victim of a violent crime for it to happen, but at least I am now not paying out the nose for the pleasure of being medicated. I like my new docs; for the first time, I have professionals who don't talk down to me and truly listen when I tell them I am having side effects from a medication that should work.

I did have to go off lithium after I found out that I was having heart palpitations. I really hate changing medications because I am always afraid that the new stuff won't work and I can't go back to the old stuff. Deep down, I am afraid there will come a day when I cannot be controlled by medication and I end up hospitalized or institutionalized. However, fear at least keeps me motivated to keep my illness under control.

I want to talk a minute about a minor irritation I have. I have some people in my life who are very uncomfortable when I use terms like "nuts" or "crazy." Okay, everyone else uses them, so why is it so wrong for me to say them? Is it because to some I am nuts or crazy? I like using those words; I have a sense of humor about my life -- GET OVER THE POLITICALLY CORRECT GARBAGE and realize that I can joke about my illness. Joking about it helps keep me sane...haha. Really, folks, if I have no problem making jokes about it or talking about it, why do people squirm? Is it a little too real for them or are they afraid that if I sneeze, they might catch it, too?

There is power in words; if I choose to use words like nuts or crazy, they lose their power to offend me. And let's be real, there's enough things in this world to be genuinely offended by to worry about a couple of little words. And honestly, when people slip and say things like that to me and then blush, I know that no offense was intended and that they weren't talking about me. If I want to get offended, I will think about the state of health care for the mentally ill or the political crap that forces so many bipolars onto disability or the stigmas in popular movies, not two stupid little words. And if I don't have a problem with those words, the people around me shouldn't care that I use them.

Here's another thing that I love doing which really keeps people off-guard. The next time one of your friends does something really stupid, look at them and say, "And I'm the one who's mentally ill?" At first most people are shocked, but I am pretty lucky that my best friend realizes how important humor is to me and she always gets a good chuckle out of it.

Well, back to the study of law so I can someday change the world...

In the days until my next post, think about this --- if your demons were to become tangible, could you fight them any better?
posted by Rising at 2:58 PM

Sorry it's been so long since I have written; really have to work on that...

First off, I want to say thanks to the people who take the time to check out the meanderings of my mind; it's nice to know that some people are curious about the babblings of my restless mind!

Well, school has started and I am still fighting the system. The health insurance through the university won't cover my treatment or medication and the government is still denying me benefits. I am writing letters to drug companies and private organizations trying to generate some interest. In the meantime, I have enough meds to last me another couple of weeks if nothing comes through...

Really loving law school, but kind of got scared the first day when they were talking about all the minor things that can keep you from taking the bar. Even though I didn't want to "out" myself, I went to the dean and explained my situation and asked if my mental condition would keep me from taking the bar and thankfully, he said he didn't think so as long as I was stabilized and "of good character". In other words, I have to continue my meds and have a shrink ready to state that I am a good person when the time comes. So the search continues for a therapist who will work with me or an organization that will help me pay for the therapy.

In the meantime, I am working on adjusting my scheduling so that I am not working counteractive to my medication. So far, so good. I try to be in bed between 11 and midnight and am usually up between 6 and 630. My eating habits have gone to garbage, but that will just take time to work out, I think. Dropping a few pounds in the process won't hurt me.

I am just really concentrating on not throwing myself into a manic stage which will override my medication. Been there in undergraduate, and it's not fun. I am really working on making sure to spend time with friends and such so that I have an outlet for the stress.

I have outed myself to a few of my classmates that I trust. Everyone seems to be taking it in stride so far. Most of the girls are curious about it in a healthy way and I obviously don't mind explaining what it's like to live with this. I am glad to be around people who don't prejudge based on ignorance. It's a nice change from the discomfort that I have found in large parts of society.

Well, guys, more at another time...back to the books.
posted by Rising at 4:14 PM

Okay, so I will never be someone to write everyday. Sorry.

I was turned down for Medicaid, which really sucks. Their reason? "Treatment for bipolar is voluntary, not medically necessary." I tried to explain to the woman that this was ridiculous. Voluntary? What are my options? Um, die or end up in an institution. Gee, those both sound much more pleasant than taking these pills every day. Oh, but if I were pregnant, I could get Medicaid with no questions asked. Pregnancy obviously is not voluntary. I mean, I guess it just happens randomly as you are walking down the street and BOOM! you're pregnant. No free will or personal choice involved in that.

The more I deal with the government, the more I find myself wrinkling up my forehead and yelling "HUH?????" Your tax dollars at work, folks.

Am I angry?? Hell, yes, I am angry. I see my sister drawing government benefits for 2 kids she purposely had, knowing she couldn't support them, and still being able to work. I see her getting her teeth bleached on my tax dollars just because she's a breeder. I see her taking shit jobs purposely so she can keep her income below the cutoff level and living off my dad, but not telling the government that. BUT I CAN'T GET ANY HELP TO CONTINUE LIVING A PRODUCTIVE LIFE!!!!

I have paid taxes since I was 15 years old. I have never been out of a job for longer than 2 weeks. Most of my life, I have worked 2 jobs, sometimes 3. I am not a deadbeat. I volunteer my time to community causes. I try to help others. I pay my bills. And what does this entitle me to??? The right to continue to pay taxes and get every government door slammed in my face.

Hell, if I weren't already struggling with depression, this would certainly push me in that direction.

My mother, bless her soul, had to wait 6 months for her disability and Medicaid benefits when she was diagnosed with leukemia. In the meantime, I paid for her medical treatment until the government decided she really couldn't work. But you can basically draw benefits at the moment of conception these days. And we wonder why women continue to have kids they can't afford. BECAUSE WE MAKE IT SO DAMNED EASY!!!

Whew, lots of anger today, folks. I would apologize, but that wouldn't be sincere; my anger is geniune and I won't apologize for expressing how I really feel. After all, that's what this website is about -- honesty.

I'm not asking a lot here. I'm just asking for my prescriptions to be paid for while I go to school. I'm not asking for total support. I'm not asking for help for the rest of my life. I am asking for temporary assistance which will be paid back in spades by my taxes. I'm not expecting the government to pay my rent or my car payment or to put food on my table. I am just asking for the medications I need which will keep me functioning so the government won't have to support me completely.

Of course, logic and the government go together like my ex-husband and responsibility.
posted by Rising at 1:20 PM

I have decided to participate in a clinical study. It's not that it will help pay for my meds or therapy, but I feel that I should be willing to open my life up if it will help doctors better understand bipolars and what we go through. Damn if this soapbox doesn't keep getting taller every time I climb up!

Maybe a lot of my willingness to be public with my disease is because I was so alone in battling it at first. Granted, I had one really good friend who stood behind me and tried to help me in any way he could, but since he had no real experience with it, we were both fumbling around in the dark. My docs never bothered to tell me about support groups or places I could go for information. The first real enlightenment I got was reading Patty Duke's books. I remember having such an epiphany and being so relieved that someone else "got it" -- that I wasn't the only person to ever experience these things. I remember literally weeping because I was so grateful that she had put her pain on paper so that she could help total strangers. I guess this is my attempt to repay that debt.

Of course, being open has its risks. I left a job I dearly loved and I was hugely successful at because of discrimination. I chose to pursue a point with my boss and he used my mental illness to try to "get me back in line." Filing the discrimination claim was one of the scariest things I have ever done, but I am very proud that I didn't back down. I no longer want to live my life apologizing for my illness. Hell, there are totally sane people out there who haven't tackled half the things I have in life! Why should I bow my head because my brain works differently than others???

I don't know that I am really cut out to be an activist. I get kind of tired of listening to myself say the same things over and over again. I don't want to be famous or anything like that. I just know how scary it can be to confront this thing alone and if I can help other people with that fear by providing some kind of touchstone, then I will. Sometimes the normal things that happen in life can feel too much to bear when you have to be constantly taking your "emotional temperature." It's nice to know there are other people who can smile and say "oh, been there, done that." Isn't that all what we look for in friends anyway?

I just want to be a good person and a person who does good...no, they aren't the same thing. Think about it for a while.
posted by Rising at 12:06 PM

One of the joys of being on lithium is having my blood drawn every month. It's really strange -- when I was a kid, I could have my blood drawn and not even flinch, but now, I really hate it. It's not that I'm scared of needles or anything; I just really don't like it. Maybe part of it is due to my Native heritage/beliefs. Blood is the essence of life and therefore allowing someone to take my blood is a real invasion. Or maybe it's just one of the weird things in my personality.

I am really tired today. I sometimes wish that I could be one of those people who stay home and watch talk shows all day, but in all honesty, I would be bored stiff after about a week. Not to mention the fact that I would probably be bored stiff.

Today, I am missing my mania. I miss the energy and hyperproductivity. I miss feeling like nothing in the world could get me down. I miss feeling detached from the world. I know I will probably "grieve" for my old self from time to time for the rest of my life, so I don't let it worry me too much.

It has been a year this month since Mom died and that is partially what is making me wish I could detach from my emotions. I miss her almost like a physical pain sometimes. She was my lifeblood, my soul, my stability. No matter what happened, I could call Mom and she'd simply say "come home" and when I was with her, it all seemed better somehow. She never treated me differently for being bipolar; she just kind of accepted that that was my "normality." Which is not to say she didn't support my choice to medicate -- she did completely because she knew it was going to keep me alive. Whenever I thought about suicide, thinking of the pain it would cause my mother often pulled me back. Now that she's gone, it is sometimes harder to pull back from that edge.

See, I feel like I am "not worth it" -- like whatever my friends get out of the relationship is not worth the worry and support it costs them in return. I often feel like I must be pretty taxing to the people who care about me and that is a horrible feeling. I want to be a good person. I want to be a good friend, daughter, girlfriend, etc. My worst problem is that I don't always live up to my own unrealistic expectations.
posted by Rising at 11:25 AM

Geez, I am not very good at writing every day, am I? I guess that is partly because I don't want to write just to write -- I want to write when I have something to say. Otherwise, it becomes too much like the small talk with your friends where your eyes start to glaze over and you mentally compile your grocery list while occasionally saying "mm-hmm".

Today, my thoughts keep turning to the idea of hope. If there is one thing I could tell other bipolars, it is that there is hope. Just having a mental illness does not count you out of the game automatically. Sure, there are times when the thought of crawling into bed and not crawling back out for days on end is appealing. But I want to make something of my life -- I want my existence to have meant something when I cease to exist any longer. I am capable of functioning better than some people without this disease. I graduated in the top 1% of my class in both high school and undergraduate, and I know that I will someday make a difference as a lawyer. I work hard, I have a pretty good sense of humor and I am a good friend. I love without reservation or condition. I have 3 birds and a dog that worship me because I adore them wholeheartedly. My nephew thinks I can do no wrong because I allow him to be a little boy without constraint. And I can articulate what living with bipolar means in my life.

I have lost many friends and some of my family has become estranged since my diagnosis. At first, I was ashamed and felt like I should apologize. Now, I am just sad that they cannot see the things that make me a worthwhile person. Yeah, I would like to say "their loss", but those words always ring hollow. That is just a defense mechanism to avoid dealing with the hurt. I have dealt with the hurt and I will not allow other people to make me feel ashamed of a disease I did not ask for or to make me feel like I have to hide who I am. I live with this disease -- it does not control me as long as I control it. I have accepted it as part of who I am. I have also come to realize that I have the opportunity to use this "misfortune" to the betterment of others through raising awareness of those I come into contact with.

Yes, I get discouraged, but so do people who don't have a mental illness. I just don't give in to the frustration or the fear. I let the fear motivate me to keep things under control. It is fear of another crippling depression that makes me take my Paxil. It is fear of injuring myself or someone else during a manic stage that makes me take my lithium. It is fear of having to survive without the drugs that makes me keep going to my shrink.

There is no failure other than the failure to keep trying, at least in my opinion. I will not quit.
posted by Rising at 1:13 PM

Okay, I guess I should explain part of the reason my meds had to be changed again. I had a psychotic break. Now, before you go thinking it's like in the movies where someone puts aluminum foil on their heads to keep the government from intercepting their brainwaves or opens fire at a busy intersection, I will explain some of the psychotic features in manic depression.

Auditory hallucinations. More commonly referred to as hearing voices. No, these are not like having someone living in your head whispering in your ear. It's more like an inner voice. For me, this inner voice tells me I am not pretty, not worthwhile, not as smart as everyone thinks I am, etc., etc. These are the voices of insecurity born of a difficult childhood. These are the things I tell myself when I am depressed. The first time I had a psychotic break, I used visualization to help me deal with it. I imagined the voice came from an old bald man with a scrunched up face. Then, I could tell this voice to shut up so I could deal with reality.

Paranoia. Again, it's not like in the movies where a person thinks the government is bugging their apartment or plotting to kill them. Recently, a woman living alone about a mile from me was killed in her apartment while she slept. My paranoia seized on this; I was sure someone was going to try to break in while I was asleep. I put the chain on the door, checked all the locks, and would lay in bed listening for any unusual sounds. I also began to worry that my boyfriend was cheating on me, given his strange hours. Nevermind that he has had these hours the whole time we have been together; I was just sure he was using his hours to meet up with someone else or that he was plotting to leave me.

Visual hallucinations. Again, it's not like I see Jesus standing in my shower (which is too bad because there are a few things I'd like to ask him!) It's more like seeing a shadow at the edge of my vision, a change in light in the periphery. Nothing as entertaining as dancing monkeys on my stovetop.

Disjointed thinking. This is a hard one to describe. I will just give you an example to illustrate. I will think really strange things like "If I wait until noon to call, he will fall back in love with me" or "If I get an A on this exam, then I will hear from someone from my past." Weird stuff, I know; I realize it is odd when I am thinking it, but many years of being raised around superstition somehow makes it seem sensible.

The first time I had a psychotic break, it really terrified me. I was up for 6 days straight -- no sleep at all. I skipped classes (undergrad) and paced circles in my apartment, picking things up and putting them back down, running my fingers roughly across my scalp, trembling and feeling like the skin on my face was too tight. I didn't find out until much, much later what that really was. It was a very scary 48 hours. At least now I have educated myself enough to be able to intellectualize it to a degree, which helps me cope.

In the coming posts, I will explain more about who I am and what has happened in my life, but I don't want to lose sight of the fact that I started this journal to express my life as a bipolar. Sure, I want to include all aspects of my life here, but I don't want to be afraid to talk about the issues that have shaped my life and will probably continue to shape my life.

So if you are out there in cyberspace, reading my words, anonymous and sheltered from inquiring eyes, just hang in here with me....


posted by Rising at 1:17 PM

Sorry it's been a few days since I logged in. I have been rather busy exploring my options regarding prescription costs. Very frustrating to say the least. I have found that some of the drug companies offer discount prescriptions, which is encouraging. Now I have to make tons of phone calls to get the applications and to get my doc to send in the requisite forms.

Time for another raving -- Medicaid. I called the Medicaid office and explained that I am a bipolar, working and attending law school, and that the costs of my scripts have become prohibitive. I asked if they would pick up my medical costs. Of course, no one knows. They tell me that they don't usually care for psychiatric illnesses. So, in translation, if you get knocked up with a baby you can't afford, sure, our government will pay for any medical expenses you want during those nine months and the care of the child you can't support thereafter. But if you have an illness that is treatable with expensive medication and you are trying to be a productive member of society, well, you are just out of luck. Huh???? Will someone explain the logic in this to me??? I mean, I will be paying more taxes than most people in 3 years and I have been paying taxes since I was 15 years old, but I am not worthy of a little assistance in my time of need. It's not like the government isn't going to get their money back from me eventually!!!

If I wanted to take disability, the government would sure as hell give me that. But help me be a contributing member of society? Sorry, our government doesn't do that! They would rather pay people to have kids that the government will always have to support in some form for the rest of their lives than to geniunely give someone a leg up. Then, people complain about the homeless and the people who end up in state-supported institutions. Has it occurred to anyone that maybe, just maybe, those people end up there because they can't afford to stay on the meds that help them function?? Sure, the government will help once you are completely broken, but heaven forbid they should help you prevent getting there.

Please don't tell me some Medicaid/AFDC/welfare sob story about just needing a leg up. I have needed a leg up for the past 5 years and it sure as hell wasn't offered. I have battled this illness without government assistance, so I know it can be done, but it would be nice to have someone invest in my future and recognize that my mental illness does not make me a dreg of society.

I don't know if anyone is reading this or if these are just echoes thrown out into cyberspace. Either way, I feel like posting this journal online is a good thing to do. Maybe someone else is reading this and realizing they are not alone in the world. Or maybe it will help someone's family or friends understand them a bit better. Maybe it just helps me to vent.

Meds are always a tricky issue for bipolars. I know I have struggled and even gone off the meds before. The simple fact of the matter is that I cannot be off them anymore if I want to stay alive. Sure, I might have a manic spell for a while, but eventually, I will crash. And when I crash, every day is a suicide risk. There are shrinks who won't even treat bipolars because the suicide rate is so high and it drives the malpractice rates sky-high. I have worked through my issues for the most part and for your reading enlightenment, here's a brief outline:

I won't be myself on the medication. God, this was the worst one! I tended to see my manic self as "the real me." After all, when I was manic, I felt 10-feet-tall and bulletproof. I was beautiful. I was funny. I was the life of the party. No one fucked with me. The truth is, I am a little shy, slightly better looking than average, and nervous around people. Of course it felt better to be manic; I didn't have to deal with my insecurities. But the manic me was all smoke and mirrors; there was no real depth to that person. I couldn't get close to anyone because my irritability, impatience and attention span kept me from it. So while I realize my flaws when I am medicated, I gain a lot in the way of being real.

There are too many side effects. True, there are a lot of side effects to lithium. Bloating, inability to sweat freely, moderate weight gain. What are all of these things compared to what could happen if I don't take it? Will it really matter if I am thin if I end up in jail? Or dead?

It's weak to rely on medication to handle life. Oh, this is one of my favorites! I had to stop thinking this when someone asked me if I was weak for wearing glasses to see better. Are diabetics weak for taking insulin? Are post-menopausal women weak for taking estrogen? The simple fact is that my brain needs lithium to stabilize a chemical imbalance. It is medical proven. Why are we so much less accepting of that fact when it is the brain rather than some other organ?

I am talking in circles now, so more later....promise.
posted by Rising at 1:38 PM

Well, time to start yet another era in my battle of the bipolar. Seems the stupid lithium levels need to be changed. Great. I just love adapting to all the side effects of a new medication, not to mention the craziness that occurs during the transition. Even better, this new medication is going to cost me $162 a month. Thanks once again to my dickhead former boss for canceling my insurance in breech of our settlement agreement.

Yeah, so I'm irritable, I'm entitled. I have fought this damned thing rather valiantly for the past 6 years and quite frankly, I am sick of it. I envy people who don't even take aspirin, let alone 3 pills twice a day or whatever other godforsaken combination they can come up with. I wish I didn't have to worry about whether I had taken in enough fluids today or whether I am sweating too much. I wish I could stay up that extra hour to finish watching a movie rather than having the stupid medication decide for me. Most of all, I wish I didn't have to battle ignorance.

We fancy ourselves such an enlightened and compassionate society; well, that's just garbage. If you don't believe me, bring up the topic of mental illness and watch people's faces change. Hell, the only time a story about mental illness makes the media is when someone has "gone off the deepend" and either killed someone or done something really psychotic. No wonder people think that's how all people with mental illness are.

So, yeah, I'm tired of it. I wish I could just give up, but if I do that, I will be dead in less than a year. I'm too curious about how my life is going to turn out to give up. Every now and again, it's good to bitch about it so that the frustration doesn't build up too much.
posted by Rising at 4:28 PM