An Obligation

Don't mind me. I'm no one.

For a very long time now, I've been the obligatory friend. If I call and you can't think of a good excuse fast enough, you hang out with me. If you think I can help you in any way, you might call, but probably not. If I offer help, you jump at it, say "we need to hang," and I don't hear from you until you need help again.

Sure, I've got friends I can text, but they're mostly in other states. The closest one is about half an hour away by freeway.

The last time I got invited to something besides someone's Facebook lash/jamberry/whatever-you're-selling party was a friend's wedding. That was four years ago. Side note: exception- I had a friend visiting from another state who invited me to hang every weekend she was here.

A few weeks ago, I helped out an old friend who needed something I had plenty of. As was expected, I got a "thanks" and a "we should get together" and then silence. Every other person who helps someone at least gets a public thank you on Facebook. The only time I get tagged in something is when I hijack my mom's page and tag myself.

I constantly see people talking about going to concerts, lunch, or movies and not once has anyone asked if I want to go. Side note: I'm literally sitting here crying while writing this. It hurts, more than people realize, and when something hurts that much, you start avoiding it. I've folded so far into myself that just the thought of talking to someone gives me a panic attack. Have I really been ignored so long that I no longer know how to interact with people?

Just once, I'd like someone to genuinely invite me to do something without me hinting that they should. No obligation, no ulterior motives.

I was thinking about this last night and actually got to a point where I was looking for inpatient facilities because my thoughts scared me so much. I texted the one person I knew who knows exactly how I feel, and like an opening in the clouds, he responded. I didn't know what to say when he asked if there was anything he could do because not many people genuinely ask me that, but he listened to (well, read) my senseless rants.

 Most people have the mentality of, "I don't need to worry because someone else will," and that's how people like me wind up alone. It just takes one to say, "I got you."

Yes, this again. Maybe you'll listen to the words this time.

"What If"~ Five For Fighting

The Avoidance Queen Returns

Social Anxiety Disorder as defined by the DSM-5 (found @ socialanxietyinstitute.org)

A.  A persistent fear of one or more social or performance situations in which the person is exposed to unfamiliar people or to possible scrutiny by others. The individual fears that he or she will act in a way (or show anxiety symptoms) that will be embarrassing and humiliating.

B.  Exposure to the feared situation almost invariably provokes anxiety, which may take the form of a situationally bound or situationally pre-disposed Panic Attack.  

C.  The person recognizes that this fear is unreasonable or excessive.

D.  The feared situations are avoided or else are endured with intense anxiety and distress.

E.  The avoidance, anxious anticipation, or distress in the feared social or performance situation(s) interferes significantly with the person's normal routine, occupational (academic) functioning, or social activities or relationships, or there is marked distress about having the phobia.

F.  The fear, anxiety, or avoidance is persistent, typically lasting 6 or more months.

G. The fear or avoidance is not due to direct physiological effects of a substance (e.g., drugs, medications) or a general medical condition not better accounted for by another mental disorder...

Copyright 2013, The American Psychiatric Association

This is me. I'm always afraid of doing or saying something stupid, I avoid social interaction as much as possible, I know it's excessive, and I've been doing this for years. Best part, I can't even handle the thought of going to something social.

This is on my mind right now, because in less than an hour, I have to leave to go to a group interview. A one-on-one interview is bad enough (Am I dressed properly? Will I say the right things? Is there something in my teeth?), but "group"? I'm freaking out!

For anyone who has been to a group interview, you know that you're all given an opportunity to speak (at least the one's I've been to). I'm a quiet person at the best of times. I don't usually speak unless absolutely necessary, and the more people there are around, the harder it is for me to open my mouth!

Anyway, back on topic... I'm basically the queen of avoidance. I avoid driving past places that remind me of traumatic events, even years after the fact. That (insert demeaning expletive here) lived in my neighbourhood, but I still manage to avoid its house more often than not. I take the long way round just to avoid places in this city that set off the anxiety. Side note: There are quite a few places. I may have to move to a different state if many more happen.

I know, I know... I use this song quite a bit, but it's perfect for this topic!

"Xiat"~ Trevor Moran

So Many Thoughts

This is hard...

I've been asked to write my story to post in someone else's blog (major cool, by the way!), and it's bringing things up that I really wish would just stay where I've kept them, so very well hidden.

I've been incredibly off lately. I've said and done things that are so far from my norm that I'm actually questioning myself. I don't like myself right now. I mean, not that I'm ever my own best friend, but it's much worse lately. Because of this, I'll be deleting and/or editing some recent posts. Actually, it's because some people got their knickers in a twist.

Time to be completely open... Yes, it annoys me that, as a white American, I'm not allowed to voice my pride in my ancestry. Everyone should be allowed to be proud of themselves for who they are and where they come from. Being proud of being Dutch/Irish/French/pretty much anything without an actual skin tone, does not in any way qualify me as racist. If you think it does, then you need to reevaluate your definition. To be honest, if I was anything besides white, nothing I say would be considered racist. You know it's true, so suck it up and move on.

Now back to our regularly scheduled programme.

Not one single paragraph in this post corresponds with any other, so this would be a good time to say that it's been fun, but I can't concentrate any longer. Here's a song...

"Church Of The Poison Mind"~ Culture Club

A Broken Record

This post has been edited for those too sensitive to accept harsh truth.

I want to give up.

I have a tendency to daydream about things that I know will never happen, but lately, everything has been becoming real. In these daydreams, I'm smart, funny, and living in England (usually somewhere in Yorkshire), but the truth of it is, I'm none of those things and I'll never even get to visit my beloved country.

Just the realization of this has made me a super-pessimist this morning. I'm crabby, there's a strange man in my room (don't go there...), and I have to move half my stuff around just so he can fix my carpet. So, yes, I'm sitting here typing in my pajamas while some random guy is working on my floor. It's kinda funny once you imagine it, but I'm still crabby.

Not just the sudden, stabbing realization of every dream I've ever had going down the drain, it's just knowing that I'll never have the normal life. I'll never be able to live on my own, I'll more than likely never get married, basically, I'll never be what society sees as "normal," so what's the point?

Every day, I see people with severe cognitive impairments who rely on others for everything, and it just about kills me to know that I'm, in a way, exactly the same. What's worse is that this country doesn't care. I can't work anywhere near as much as it would take to sustain myself, but if I lived in Puerto Rico and said I couldn't speak English, my disability claim would be approved in no time (no joke or exaggeration). If I were a ten year old child whose parents said I had ADHD, same deal, but because I'm an adult doing the best I can with my circumstances, I get denied. I'm drowning, and if America doesn't care, why should I?

In my denial letter, it listed every single one of my diagnoses and then said that I can still perform normal work with no accommodation. Mind you, it listed "social anxiety and panic disorder." Nope. I don't need accommodation...

"Strong Enough To Break"~ Hanson (Again, I hate fan-made lyric videos because they're usually wrong, so just listen.)

Psychiatric "Care"

I give...

When I finally got Medicaid (despite not being single and pregnant), I was so excited because I hadn't been able to see a doctor regularly in over two years, but now it's nothing but frustration.

The psychiatric clinic I finally found in my area told me that Medicaid required an evaluation before beginning treatment, so I wasted two hours and did as I was told. Afterward, I was told that the psychiatrists needed to review the notes from the evaluation before I could be "assigned to a psychiatrist." A week later, I got a call to set up an appointment with the doctor they deemed best for me. I took the first available appointment which wasn't until, get this, a month and a half later!

I've been basically off any form of medication for months, and they want me to wait even longer?! I called the God-sent free clinic I had been going to and asked if they could give me anything to get me through. The dim-witted "doctor" they gave me to (once the one I had seen moved on) could not grasp the concept that, no, I hadn't filled the prescription she gave me last time because I told her countless times that I'd already been on that and it didn't work (run on sentence...)! So what does she do? She calls in the same freaking thing!!!

I've missed so much work in the last couple of months that I'm actually afraid of losing my job. All because nobody seems to understand that when someone says they need medication now, they need it now.

Suicide rates in the US, Utah specifically, have been rising for years, and this is a big reason why.

"Rescue"~ The Summer Set

Not Qualified

Wait, what?

I've been looking for a job for the summer, and it's absolutely ridiculous. Every part-time job I look at, requires at least two years of college (or similar experience...?). Some say they require a bachelor's degree for an entry level position! To do what?! Type things into a computer?!

Then there's the language issue. It's considered discrimination to say "must speak English," but not discrimination to say "must be bilingual Spanish?" Umm...

I've started looking at writing jobs just to see what's out there. Without a degree in journalism, I'm basically stuck with social media and apparently must "eat, sleep, live social media." Not quite sure how you eat social media...

Basically, without a Ph. D. and fifty years experience, I'm stuck with retail or call centers. I've done my time at both. I've lost it at both. I've quit both (a few times). I can't handle them because of all the people. Even the school is too social for me.

I'm at a loss. When in the process of applying for disability benefits, they pose the question, "is there any other type of work you can do?" The answer is technically yes, but without the degree and experience, I'm not even qualified to file paperwork.

"Take This Job And Shove It"~ Johnny Paycheck

What A Day

Yesterday was rather interesting...

If you read yesterday's post, you'll know that I'm still manic. As such, Most of yesterday was a bit of a mystery. I couldn't handle it and had to call my mother home from work.

Once I finally managed to stop crying, we went to get something to eat. When we got back, my dad came up with some research he had done on naturopathic remedies. I'm always skeptical of things like that because, well, I'm not a hippie (that's how I see it anyway. I know some of those things actually work for some), but he mentioned this therapy light thing that I've heard about before and I got pretty excited. I've seen them and talked to people who use them and it's all good news, so we went to get one.

Then we moved on to possibly my favorite thing on the planet: books. A while ago, I was looking through the bookstore and found a couple of Anxiety books I wanted but couldn't get right then. Well, I finally got them! "Overcoming Social Anxiety and Shyness" by Gillian Butler, and "The Anxiety Workbook" by David A. Clark, PhD & Aaron T. Beck, MD.

As you can imagine, this sent me from "crying and irritable" straight to "flying high," but the day wasn't over just yet. The Sizzler was helping the Salt Lake City Police Department with their "Cops for Kids" fundraiser. Side note: We didn't actually know this before deciding to go there. The parking lot was packed! I could just imagine the crowd inside and it automatically sent alarms to my brain. When we got in there, we were told exactly what this was. The cops would be our wait staff and all the tips would go to the Juvenile Justice Centre. It was actually a lot of fun (mostly)!

Being out that much and around that many people is never a good idea for me, so all through dinner, I had the ever lovely psychomotor agitation. When I finally got home, I turned on my Wii and started boxing. Seriously, if you have energy, box. Tennis is a good idea as well!

Oh! I almost forgot to mention that I'm actually going to look for a naturopath. Yep... the most skeptical girl on the planet is going to try not being hopped up on medication. This'll go well...

Today is Holocaust Remembrance Day, so instead of my usual musical addition, there's this:


From "Schindler's List"

 

Don't Stand Out, Don't Fit In

This post has been edited because it was mean. I'm sorry.

I'm still manic, so this could get weird...

It's no secret that I have trust issues. I've been betrayed, stabbed in the back, and abandoned by those who supposedly care about me, and it's happening again. Bright side: She told me.

The therapist I've been working with is the best therapist I've ever been with, but she's an intern and graduating next month. I've been working with her since late August of last year and I didn't actually open up until February. That's about six moths of seeing her every week and having to talk about things I don't even admit to myself. I'm not exactly excited to start over again with someone new.

Bad segue in 3... 2... 1...

One time, during session, I got rambling about how whenever I tell people about something I like and suggest that they check it out, I almost always get something along the lines of "that sucked." Music is my world and I don't stick to just one genre, I listen to all types (except metal and rap because, well, those aren't music). I have more music than most people even know exists because I listen to different things.

I've got some people in my life who won't accept anything I suggest, calling it "stupid," or saying, "yeah, no" and moving on. These things mean something to me and they've just been brushed off.

I have always been incredibly accepting of individuality, so these people irritate me to no end. "Why do you still talk to them," you ask? Because I'm the good friend. Always have been, always will be. I don't care how you dress, what music you listen to, or what your religious beliefs are, I like you for you. If you have something that means so much to you that you want to share it with me, I listen. All I ask is that you do the same for me, because one day, I will get fed up.

"Weird"~ Hanson (try actually listening to the lyrics)

Blame It On The Train

DSM IV on mania/manic episodes: (Side note: This has since been updated in the DSM 5, but I don't have access to that right now.)

A distinct period of abnormally and persistently elevated, expansive, or irritable mood, lasting at least 1 week (or any duration if hospitalization is necessary).

• During the period of mood disturbance, three (or more) of the following symptoms have persisted (four if the mood is only irritable) and have been present to a significant degree.

1. inflated self-esteem or grandiosity

2. decreased need for sleep (e.g., feels rested after only 3 hours of sleep)

3. more talkative than usual or pressure to keep talking

4. flight of ideas or subjective experience that thoughts are racing

5. distractibility (i.e., attention too easily drawn to unimportant or irrelevant external stimuli)

6. increase in goal-directed activity (either socially, at work or school, or sexually) or psychomotor agitation

7. excessive involvement in pleasurable activities that have a high potential for painful consequences (e.g., engaging in unrestrained buying sprees, sexual indiscretions, or foolish business investments)

This may sound like fun or even a nice reprieve from the depressive side, but I promise you, this is pure Hell. If you didn't get it (because I didn't exactly say before), the symptoms in bold are the ones I usually get. Allow me to expand:

Decreased need for sleep is pretty straight forward. It's not necessarily insomnia, it's just that I don't need sleep. I can get two or three hours a night and be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed all day long. However, when I can't sleep, I don't have the luxury of being able to get up and do something since I still live at home. So instead, I toss and turn all night and get freakishly irritated at my lack of sleep.

Again, more talkative is straight forward. I tend to only talk when absolutely necessary, but when I'm manic, it's vocal vomit. Ask a simple question and you'll get a long answer along with anything else that comes to my head.

Racing thoughts are beyond annoying. It's like looking straight ahead at a passing train and trying to really see anything. It's all a blur. People often ask me what I think about, but I never have an answer. Imagine for a minute... There are thousands of sticky notes on that train. It's flying by at a hundred miles an hour. Now, try to grab just one sticky note.

Distractibility is probably the most anno

Psychomotor agitation is difficult for some to understand. It's not exactly a household phrase, so not understanding it is, well, understandable. It's basically useless movement. It's not getting you anywhere or anything; you're just moving. I've always had a problem with paper. Give me a piece of paper and you'll never see it again because I'll fold it, roll it, whatever. I recently got a worry stone on my therapist's advice. It helps. Really. A lot.

Pleasurable activities with potential painful consequences. Yeah, there are way more options than the examples they give. I promise. I used to go on spending sprees. That has gotten me in quite a bit of trouble, but I'm broke now and no one in their right mind will give me another credit card. Now I eat. I have a huge box of Goldfish that I've had for just over a week and it's already more than half gone. The Girl Scout cookies? Gone. Any candy in the house? Gone. The salads? Haven't touched them. Told ya I don't eat anything healthy!

This in and of itself isn't fun, but add my anxiety on top of it and you get someone who can't get herself dressed and out of the house, let alone work. I just can't. I tried today. I got up, showered, dressed, I even put on makeup and drove to the school, but when I got there, I couldn't make myself go in. I hate that. I love my job and those kids, but my stupid brain is keeping me from doing anything productive.

I know it's Tuesday, but I thought about writing this yesterday, so it counts.
"Manic Monday"~ The Bangles

Words Escape Me

100th post! Woot!

I talked to a lady today who shocked me. I have more or less known this lady for ten years, but I never really talked with her. I knew her son in high school and became friends with her (far too beautiful) daughter a few years later, but that's about it. She showed me something that I have been searching for since, well, always.

Knowing my history with her kids, she asked what I've been up to. We talked about work, photography, and a few other things. We talked about how talented her son is (best pianist I've ever seen!) and the behavior of the artist which morphed into my writing. When I talk about my blog, inevitably the question of what it's about arises. I'm really good at avoiding this because I'm still uncomfortable talking about all this. For some strange reason, I told her the name of it. Call it uncontrollable anxiety, social overload, or vocal vomit; fact is, I said it.

What she did next threw me for a serious loop. She asked if I had Bipolar. An understandable question at this point, but then she started telling me how she understood because she has this and other things that run in her family. At this point, I'm on auto-pilot with nodding, smiling, and interjections of "yeah" because I couldn't believe that she neither looked at me funny nor stepped back in self-protection.

She didn't assume anything, she understands what I'm going through, and she wasn't afraid to tell me about how she understands. She talked about these things running in her family like you'd talk about how red hair runs in yours. No fear, no judgment, no stigma. I'm still in awe. This woman is my new hero!

"What If"~ Five For Fighting (I know I use it a lot, but I like it)

It Works!

I must share!

Last time I saw my therapist, she told me about a technique she learnt from an article written by a neurologist on how to get better sleep.

Background: A big part of what happens when you sleep is that the blood recirculates throughout the body. You legs are the biggest part of that process. What this neurologist (wish I knew who!) suggested was to sit flat against the wall with your legs straight up (yes, up) for thirty minutes right before bed. No getting up for water, bathroom, anything.

Well, I (as usual) was having a hard time getting to sleep last night thanks to my ever running brain, so I decided to try this. I grabbed a book (I actually had to search for one that didn't include murder and the subsequent investigation), got sideways on my bed (because I have no floor-to-wall space), and propped my legs up. Granted, I only made it twenty minutes before one of my feet went numb, but I still noticed a difference!

Now, I didn't get to sleep any faster, but the few hours I got were much more restful! This neurologist did a study with people doing this every night and concluded that those who did, felt like they got two whole hours more sleep than those who didn't, even though they may have gotten the same number of hours. Basically, the people who did this felt more rested.

Now, since I woke up in such a good mood, I give you a blast from my high school past!

"Accidentally In Love"~ Counting Crows

BOOM!

Told ya.

I knew I was going to break down eventually, and apparently that's today. I have quite a load pushing down on me and today was the last straw. This camel's back is officially broken. I've been trying to be more upbeat and look at the bright side, but I think it's contributing to the pressure, so I'm going to get this all off my chest...

Lately, I've been having some major sleep issues. I can't sleep without drugging myself with Benadryl. Even at that, I'm not really sleeping thanks to the overwhelmingly terrifying nightmares. I've got two recurring nightmares that really get to me and they've both made their appearances near nightly. I'll spare you the details (mostly because I don't want to think about it that much), but I'm not the biggest fan of public bathrooms or fire.

It's been such great weather here and it plummeted today. I think this is the most snow we've gotten since winter 2013/2014. It's dreary and depressing. Bad weather is a double hit on me. It's not just dark and depressing, it physically hurts. I had major surgery on my leg a few years back where the doctor had to break it. Long story short: I have a metal rod and a few screws in it now. So when the barometer drops, anyone who has had a broken bone or almost any surgery knows the pain.

I've got a few other things that I won't go in to because, well, this would be the world's longest blog post, but today just put the pin to the balloon. With the snow comes indoor recess for the kids. Indoor recess is my own personal Hell in the best of conditions, but I had to train someone today. Don't get me wrong, she's a super nice lady, but the only perk to indoor recess is my alone time (little as it may be). Side note: I also didn't feel like talking or smiling already today, and I exhausted everything I could muster in an hour.

So basically, I shut down. Driving home in the snow while tired and emotionally drained was less than fun. So I'm going to put some music on and hide.

"Heartbeat"~ Mayberry

Tried. Failed. Next?

Bite me.

Have you ever read those articles about how exercising when you're depressed can help? And have you ever actually attempted exercising when you're depressed? If so, how did that go? For me, it's actually quite infuriating.

Exercise doesn't take many brain cells and it allows your mind to run free (at least the exercises that people not obsessed with the gym can do), so everything I've held down starts to come up along with everything I didn't even know I've held down. It's especially angering because I've struggled with weight management for a few years and I want the weight to all come off after ten minutes of walking. Side note: After that ten minutes, I reward myself with cookies. Not the best idea, but sure tasty! Side note to the side note: I don't eat a lot, but nothing I eat has any level of nutritional value. Hence the weight struggles.

Now, when I'm manic and have all that excess energy and I've already cleaned the entire house with a toothbrush, I'll get out my step exercise... thing (I don't know what it's called. Judge me.) and spend anywhere between two and thirty minutes at it and I'm perfectly fine.

Side note: I've got a cut on my arm and have no idea where I got it...

I had a point, I just don't remember it... Oh yeah! Not everything that professionals say is going to work for everyone. I've tired just about everything "they" say to do and most of it doesn't work for me. On the flip side, what works for me may not work for you. I'd be interested to know what does and doesn't work for you (I know that most people won't leave comments here, but I'm gonna ask anyway.), so let me know!

"Physical"~ Olivia Newton-John

ROTFL

I'm kind of tired of talking about my problems, so I'm just going to tell you some stories that make me laugh just thinking about them.

Last Friday, I was waiting for my mom to come home. I usually look out my bedroom window which faces the driveway. Well, I saw her car there and she had the door open but hadn't yet gotten out. Well, I put my shoes on and went to open the door not knowing that she had since walked up. I open the door and screamed! I literally screamed! I wasn't expecting her to be there! It scared me half to death and I couldn't stop laughing for like half an hour.

Side note: This next one didn't happen to me. One of my teachers in high school told it to the class and I thought it was genius!

There was a girl who was having a hard time getting a date to the upcoming dance. It was girl's choice and every guy she asked already had a date. One day, as she's walking into the building, she tripped and fell. Her skirt flew up revealing, well, everything. She simply stood up, started laughing, and said, "If that doesn't get me a date, I don't know what will!"

Lastly, my mother tends to not hear what someone actually says. Especially when she's concentrating on something. One day, we were at the grocery store and they had their people with samples out on the floor. When she saw one, she said, "I wonder what they're taking samples of." Confused, I asked, "You mean giving?" Her reply? "You're Satan." To this day she doesn't know exactly why she said it, but she thinks she heard someone say "pieces of Satan." Side note: No. She will never live this down! It's possibly the greatest thing she's ever said!

I've always believed that if you can't make fun of yourself, you have no right to make fun of anyone or anything else. Even though some situations may not seem funny in the moment, we often look back and laugh.

Possibly the best song this man has done!
"Word Crimes"~ Weird Al Yankovic

I'll Pencil It In

Explosion is imminent...

A couple of weeks ago, my therapist told me something that honestly weirded me out a bit. She told me that she schedules time to worry. She told me that, during this time, she over dramatizes and forces herself to actually worry. She said she does it because worrying at work is not at all helpful, but she's a natural worrier and needs to release it so it doesn't build up. This got me thinking... What if I designated a time to cry?

I can't even remember how many times I've said or typed that I don't cry in front of people. My therapist actually called me on it once. We were talking about something and I started fighting it back, as per usual. Well, it builds and builds and comes out all at once along with the anger and sadness that I push down along with the tears. This is never a pretty sight, and it feels much worse than it looks. So maybe, just maybe, if I set a time to release all the pent up tension, this wouldn't happen.

Now comes the hard part... how exactly do I schedule that? I mean, right now I'm in a fantastic mood. Then, I'm always in a good mood when I get new music. Side note: Ships Have Sailed is an amazing band with two incredible albums! Go check em out! It's not like I can just decide to be upset any more than I can decide to get out of a funk and be happy. Then it hit me: music. I've got more music than most people even know exists. There's got to be something that can depress me enough to get it out, right? Side note: As December Falls is also an amazing band with some incredible music! Check them out, too!

So now my mission is to go through my iPod and find things that may work. If you don't hear from me within a week, call the authorities; I may have forgotten to eat. Well, that, or I just have nothing to say...

And now, I give you my new obsession...

"Midnight"~ Ships Have Sailed

A Two-fer!

I've got two things I want to address today, so this could get weird...

Point number one: watch what you say.

I've posted before about how my sister is the conductor of the judgment train, and this has been really getting to me the last couple of days. Thinking about it Monday night got me hyped up and Tuesday was far from a good day.

Now, the thing that got to me most was something she said the day she, my mom, and I went to the opera. No joke, she stepped out of her car, looked up at me, and started in on what I was wearing. "Are you really wearing that? People wear formals to this thing." Yes, yes they do, but this was a matinee and it's not like I was wearing jeans. I was wearing a nice shirt, nice skinny pants, and nice boots. My hair was done nicely, and I looked just fine according to everyone else. Now, she was also wearing pants along with her husband's tie and suit coat. Side note: if you're going to wear a waist belt at all, let alone one with tie strings that hang pretty low, don't wear a man's tie. It looks stupid. Umm... how was her outfit any better than mine? Oh yeah, because she's her, and I'm not.

I've never done anything that reaches her approval, and I never will. I can't tell if she's ridiculously narcissistic, or incredibly insecure. Either way, when she starts saying things like, "we need to get you married," or, "if you dressed a little nicer, you might attract a man," all I hear is, "you're not good enough."

I wish I could say that she was the only one whose words stab me, but the fact is, so many others who don't realize it have done the same. I had a friend who once told my boyfriend that I don't have a bathing suit because I have stretch marks. I had told her that in confidence, and she humiliated me. Another friend who I had told about my diagnosis before I really came out with it decided that it was okay to tell her husband. When I went to their house, I was completely bombarded. He was talking about it and all I could do was stand there in disbelief. Side note: if you've read my post Come Again?, (<-- that's a link), that's where I heard the, "I've never seen you be, you know, Bipolar."

Fact is, I've been torn down and betrayed by the people closest to me who are supposed to be the ones who care the most. And people wonder why I have trust issues...

"Smiling Faces Sometimes"~ The Undisputed Truth

Point number two: perpetuation of stigmas.

So many times I've talked about not blaming your mental illness for your actions, and it seems to go unnoticed. I was chatting with someone on Twitter last night and I thought I'd punch him when he said "I had a Bipolar freak out today." Are you serious?! No. You freaked out today, made people afraid of you, then blamed your circumstances instead of taking responsibility for your actions.

That's right, I just said that we need to take responsibility for our actions instead of blaming our circumstances. People are afraid of those with mental illnesses because of how we act and subsequently blame the illness.

The really irritating part is how it's addressed in the court system. Claim mental illness made you do it, get off with court mandated therapy.

Your Bipolar does not make you rude, hot tempered, or violent. That's all you. I am completely on my own, no medications at all, and I manage to not hit people. It's called decorum people; use it!

There are signs all over the classrooms I work in that say "You are responsible for you." If seven year old kids can understand this concept, it shouldn't be that difficult for adults.

"If you could kick the person in the pants responsible for most of your trouble, you wouldn't sit for a month." - Theodore Roosevelt