World Kindness Day

World Kindness day is November 13 and World Kindness Week begins the Monday of the week with November 13. After the events of the last few years, and the many years crammed into 2020, kindness is needed now more than ever. There are a couple of Buddhist sayings that always come to mind when speaking of kindness. The first is, ‘Be kind whenever possible. It’s always possible.’ And the second is, ‘Be kind to all creatures. This is the true religion.’ Kindness is the quality of being friendly and considerate. There are many who believe kindness is a weakness and these are the people who would do harm to others.

When someone is kind to you, it can lift your spirits and put a smile on your face. What happens to you if you’re kind to others? Some benefits for a person who is kind to others include elevation of dopamine levels in the brain, which make us feel good. It can also include the feeling of emotional warmth leading to a healthier heart, reduction of inflammation slowing the aging process, reduction of emotional distance helping couples feel bonded, and contagiousness that often sets off a pay-it-forward ripple effect. There’s one important message I have for everyone regarding kindness. Always be kind to others and always be kind to yourself. That last part is harder than people think. Be kind.

James Pack is a self-published author of poetry and fiction.  Information about his publishing credits can be found on his personal blog TheJamesPack.com.  He resides in Tucson, AZ.

A Guest Blog Spot – Emily K. Harrington

Memories That Almost Break Me

By Emily K HarringtoN

https://goldfishpainter.com/blog/

Yesterday in therapy I told the story of the last days with Sophie and my first days of incapacitating mental illness, just before I was officially diagnosed. I was surprised at how upset I became in therapy, and by the clarity of my often faulty memory. Timeline was:

I started to feel like I was becoming invisible in October, right after I started dating Sophie, right when I turned 19.

My depression increased. I started to disappear.

By Christmas, I knew something was wrong with me, but I didn’t know what. I remember saying “Something is really wrong with me,” to my mom when I came home for Christmas break. When my folks drove me to Austin at the New Year to put me on a plane back to Ohio, my dad gave me a giant teddy bear in the parking lot, and I hugged him and cried very hard. My mom took a picture of us that I have here in my house. Our eyes are red, even though we’re smiling. His arm is around my shoulder, and we both look like we’re holding our breath.

January was something called “Winter Term,” which exists because it’s basically too cold to live in Ohio in January. The campus empties out. Everyone did an individual project during Winter Term, appropriately called a “Winter Term Project,” and you could complete your project anywhere in the world. Oberlin is mostly wealthy, so students would do their projects in Hawaii or Barbados or Portugal. Wherever they wanted, basically. A tiny minority of students would stay on campus, so the ice-laden, snow-covered campus stayed partially open. The libraries had some limited operating hours, and one of the cafeterias was kept functioning. I chose a listening/research project on mezzo-sopranos of the last century. My roommate, Laura, went away somewhere for the month, so Sophie and I had a giant room to ourselves. We hid inside, only leaving to find food or go to the conservatory to research. Baldwin had a large, round practice room on the first floor with a piano in it, directly below my own round room, so we didn’t even need to go to the conservatory to practice. There were two places near us that delivered food: a Chinese place on Main Street and a Dominos about 30 miles away. With temperatures severely below zero, it was worth the money and the wait to not have to leave the house. We binge-watched TV and movies on her laptop, ate takeout, and existed naked with the radiators cranked. The sky was only ever grey or black.

I started to think that I would marry this girl, and soon after I had that thought, I started feeling stressed and trapped. I didn’t think I’d ever be strong enough to leave her. There were things I didn’t like, but I felt so stuck. I was madly in love, and marriage seemed like an inevitability, but I had the sense that I was too young and hadn’t been with enough people yet, seen enough of my life, or learned enough about myself to be happy making that lifelong commitment. Then I started to get sick.

It started with stomach pain that turned into nausea and vomiting. I went to the doctor, got lots of tests done (including a CAT scan and a vaginal ultrasound), and wound up with a diagnosis of an ulcer, polycystic ovarian syndrome, and interstitial cystitis. I did have cysts on my ovaries, but one correct diagnosis out of three is a pretty low success rate. The gyno who did my pelvic exam said I had a bladder condition, prescribed legal speed, and sent me on my way.

The first day on that stimulant was the night I became furious with myself in a conservatory practice room, blacked out (also known as having a dissociative fugue) and walked several miles out of town. When I came to, I called campus Safety and Security officers to drive out and pick me up. I got back to the dorm, popped two hydrocodone (my first attempt at self-medication), and stood outside of my room looking at the doorknob, feeling like there was a pane of glass between my outstretched hand and the door that I couldn’t possibly penetrate.

At some point, I found out my stomach pain, combined with my psychological symptoms, could be bipolar disorder. I made an appointment with a psychiatrist, went in to be assessed, told him about my perfectly practical and achievable plan to hang myself in an abandoned barn I’d found with a ladder and an electrical cord, and he sent me to a psychiatric unit for violent offenders in Lorain, Ohio. I stayed for 4 days and then came home with a Neurontin prescription and no diagnosis.

At 2:30 AM one night, Sophie got really sick and needed to go to the hospital overnight. The prescription speed and a missed night’s sleep started the true psychotic break, which you’ve heard all about. When I came to a moment of functionality around 4 pm the next day, I called my mom and said (again) “I’m not okay.” She told me to find someone to drive me to the airport at 5, that she would book a flight immediately, and to give her Sophie’s phone number.

On the drive to the airport, the blue sky was heavily dotted with bright white clouds that had the same texture as my mom’s fluffy scrambled eggs.  I could hear them singing to each other. By that point in the day, my psychosis had completely enveloped me, to the point of adjustment. It wasn’t at all frightening; the heavens were singing to me. I am not a religious person, but my psychosis has frequently taken on a literalist interpretation of angels, Satan, spirits, hell, and heaven (so far).

On the plane a few hours later, I was watching the Johnny Cash in-flight movie from the aisle seat. Next to me sat a man in his 40s with glasses, a button-down shirt, and khakis with a phone holster attached. Total white-guy dad. He was bouncing his 2-year-old son on his knee to distract and comfort the baby boy from popping ears and irritating confinement and boredom.

About halfway through the movie, I started to see a red glow in my peripheral vision where the man was seated. I turned to look at him and his eyes glowed red. I could see red light surrounding him, and his hands grew long claws from the fingertips. He was still bouncing the baby boy on his knee, holding onto him tightly with those terrifying claws. I knew in my bones that I was sitting next to Satan. I didn’t know what to do. I called the flight attendant but was afraid to speak when she came to me. He was going to hurt that little boy, he was going to drag me to hell with him, and I thought about screaming for help, but couldn’t see how anyone else on the plane could possibly save me from Satan, himself. As I looked around in a panic, I felt the floor beneath my feet drop away, and when I looked down between my feet, I saw 30,000 feet of empty space between me and the carpet of blackness and lights that make up a city from above at nighttime. My feet were swinging freely. My seatbelt seemed a laughable precaution. No one else noticed, so I stared straight ahead with tears raging down my face. I thought it best just to try to act the same as everyone around me. Surely the judgment of the many was currently better than my own.

I came home confused and in pain, still wanting to kill myself. My mom called every psychiatrist in town, and the nearest appointment was 6 months out. She convinced me that the fastest way to get help was to go to DePaul, the local psychiatric hospital. I seized a moment of doubt in my plan to off myself, and I told her to take me, quickly, before I changed my mind. We got in the car two minutes later. I didn’t even pack.

I already had one horrifying hospital experience under my belt that included living with real-life murderers and armed guards stationed at locked doors holding rifles with two hands. The threat this new hospital posed was made more significant in my mind through projection. By about one hour in, I was a wreck. I went into my very first mixed-state episode. It was hell. Literal hell. Eternal, unyielding suffering. I had no idea that episodes pass. I’d never had one before. I thought this was life now, that I was finally just broken, and that I no longer had a choice to live. I was in hell.

Suicide would make it stop. I knew that much. It was the only move I had left.

I double wrapped my phone charger around my neck and wrapped the other end around the top hinge on the bathroom door. I kicked a chair out from under me, but the jerk didn’t break my neck, so instead, I started to suffocate. My vision started to go white when I saw a shadow and heard someone screaming “help!” Someone grabbed me around the middle and lifted me up to take the pressure off of my neck. I felt cold scissors against my throat and hear a snapping sound of then cutting my charger’s cord. I took one deep breath in and started screaming.

I screamed. I wailed. I remember being partially removed, as if I was standing across the room, observing. I remember thinking that I sounded like a wounded wolf. I was screaming because they had cheated me. I had the answer. I even had the courage to commit to the answer. And they stole it. How could they do that to me? It seemed like the cruelest thing they could have possibly done.          

I lost Sophie a few days later when I got out of one-to-one observation. She broke up with me over the phone. When I called her and admitted to my attempt, she was rightfully terrified and overwhelmed. Mental illness doomed and then ended the relationship, which is no one’s fault. I lost my mind and my first adult relationship at approximately the same time. This order of events is not unavoidable, but it’s also not uncommon. Many others who live with mental illness have experienced this themselves.

Lately, I’m not doing so great. I’m having more severe symptoms than I’ve had in years and some of the things that are happening take me back to these memories. All of this happened over a decade ago. The 13th anniversary of my first suicide attempt is in 2 months.

While the symptoms are becoming severe, the coping skills I have are now strong enough to provide some solace and structure. Still, even with great tools to use, it often hurts like hell, and I’m terrified of going back to the place I was in 13 years ago. I don’t want to have a full psychotic break, be hospitalized, attempt suicide, or lose my relationship.I have skills now. I have a support system. I have medical care. I have a partner in life. I have 13 years of experience in keeping myself alive. I have amassed a wealth of helpful components to cope with my illnesses.

I have to fact-check. There are worse things than having a psychotic break. There are worse things than going to the hospital. There is no evidence that I will attempt suicide. There is no evidence that I will lose my relationship.

Cope. Fact-check. Ask for help. Go to the doctor.

I know what to do. I’ve done this before.

Don’t Let Depression Drag You Down – A Guest Spot

Today I have the honor of sharing a piece written by Marie Miguel for www.betterhelp.com and I am sharing it with you today here on The Bipolar Writer blog. You can find the bio for Marie Miguel after the article.

Don’t Let Depression Drag You Down

Everyone has heard of depression but many people really do not know the difference between having depression and feeling depressed. Of course, if you or someone you love suffers from a depressive disorder, you know what I am talking about, but a lot of people think having depression just means that you are sad. They may say “what do you have to be depressed about?” or “how can you be depressed when you have so much going for you?” I get that one a lot. Yes, I have a great job doing what I love but having depression does not just mean that you are feeling sad or depressed. There is a whole lot more to it than that.

What Is Depression?

According to the experts, depression is a very common but serious mental health disorder that affects how you think, act, and feel. It can disrupt all your daily activities including working, eating, sleeping, socializing, and working. It is not just a feeling of sadness but an actual medical condition that lasts more than two weeks. In fact, in many cases, it can last for years or for your entire life. Imagine being told that you are going to have this debilitating disease forever and there is nothing you can do about it. Not only does it make you miserable, it can sap your strength, make you exhausted, cost you your job and relationships, and it is invisible so nobody can actually see what is going on. That is depression. Here are some symptoms:

  • Feeling sad or hopeless for more than two weeks
  • Crying over nothing
  • Lack of energy
  • Sleeping more or less than usual
  • Eating more or less than usual
  • Losing or gaining weight
  • Lack of concentration
  • Difficulty making decisions
  • Memory loss
  • Isolating yourself from everyone
  • Talking or moving slower than usual
  • Random and chronic aches and pains
  • Constant fatigue
  • Thinking of death or suicide

If you or someone you love has any of the above symptoms, it may be depression. One of the best things you can do for this is to talk to a professional mental health expert. In many cases, you can find a solution to feeling better after the first session. Of course, many of us with depression do not want to go see a therapist or psychiatrist. For some, just getting out of bed is a big accomplishment. Luckily, there is a wonderful new concept called internet therapy. It may also be referred to as eTherapy, online psychiatry, or many other variations of this. Basically, it boils down to the fact that you do not even have to leave your house (or your bed) to talk to a therapist.

Yes, you can talk to a therapist online without ever having to go anywhere and you do not even need to set an appointment. With online therapy, you can use any kind of electronic device such as your cell phone, tablet, or computer to talk to your therapist. You can use texting, instant messaging, email, or even face to face teleconferencing like Skype or Facetime. They are available 24 hours a day, seven days a week. So, what are you waiting for?

Marie Miguel

Marie-Miguel

Marie Miguel has been a writing and research expert for nearly a decade, covering a variety of health- related topics. Currently, she is contributing to the expansion and growth of a free online mental health resource with BetterHelp.com. With an interest and dedication to addressing stigmas associated with mental health, she continues to specifically target subjects related to anxiety and depression.

Inner Fears – A Guest Blog Spot

How to deal With Your Inner Fears

I write this blog post using my own personal experience. I am not a psychiatrist so tread lightly.  First of all, if your fears put you in any kind of danger then I would seek professional help immediately.  Medication plus counseling is the key. Counseling helps you talk about your fears and gets to the main cause of those fears.  Knowing the cause empowers you to heal.

I speak of fears or inner demons.  Fears to go out of your home fears to interact with people, fears of places or things.

The first thing to do is to analyze whether your fears are real.  You can do this by listing your fears and then rate them from one to ten.  With one being your weakest fear and ten being your strongest fear.  Then list the lowest fear first and so on.  Now beside each fear write down if it’s real or not.  You can challenge your fear by questions like the following.

  1. Has this happened before in the past?
  2. Does this happen all the time?
  3. Is this real or is it just in my mind?

If your fears aren’t real and are only in your mind then it’s time to seek professional help and medication.  A psychiatrist can help.

But even if your fears aren’t real you may need help to face them.  I know of a way that can help.  You take one fear at a time to work on.  Use the list you made above.  Make a form for the first lowest ranking fear.  Then you rate your fear on a scale of one to ten.  Then you think of the negative belief that fear.  For example: they’re going to get me!  And you write down the negative belief and rate your belief in it on a scale from one to ten.  Then you think of a positive counter statement.  A positive statement that will help you deal with your fear and that negative belief.  For example:  They’re not interested in me!  Rate the belief in this positive counter-statement on a scale from one to ten.

If your belief in the positive counter statement is higher than your belief in the initial negative thought then you are winning already.  If it doesn’t continue to work on your fear.  With time it will get better.

Rerate the first negative belief after you think of your positive counter statement.  It should have dropped.  Then write down what you are feeling after facing your fear and rate it on a scale of one to ten.

As you go out of your comfort zone to face your fear, this positive counter statement will bring down your belief in the negative thought and bring down your fear!  The more often you go out of your comfort zone to face your fear, the more chances that the positive counter statement will slowly bring down your fears.

But remember to work on one fear at a time. As I said, start with the lowest ranking fear for practice.  This should take a couple of months at least.  Daily facing your fear will bring the initial feeling of fear down as well as the belief in that initial negative thought.  We are working on that initial negative belief.  We are also working on increasing the belief in the positive counter statement.

leio-mclaren-299136.jpg

Once your belief in the negative thought is down to one or two out of ten you can consider that you have succeeded in challenging your fear.  Then work on the next fear on that initial list.  Again create a form where you can write down each time the rating of your fear, your belief in the initial negative belief, your positive counter statement, your belief in your positive counter statement and the subsequent belief in the negative thought.  Then write down the emotion that you are feeling and rate it.  For me, it was always a relief.

Good luck in facing your fears! Remember that if at any time you feel overwhelmed, take a moment, breathe, relax and stop.  Go to your safe place at home or stop for a coffee and relax. Take a deep breath and concentrate on your breathing and relax.  Don’t face your fear again until the next day.

Good luck!

Author: Miriam’s Art

Photo Credit:

unsplash-logoLeio McLaren

Meet Anxiety, The Blob in my Chest

This post is from a guest blogger Johan for The Bipolar Writer blog about anxiety. You can find the authors blog here. http://theprofoundshift.wordpress.com/

Meet Anxiety, The Blob in my Chest

Anxiety is the feeling we all grow to loathe. I lived with anxiety from a very young age, as young as I can remember. My first encounter as I recall it I must have been no older than 7-8 years old.

It vary´s from mild to severe, it depends on the season and on my mental state. I feel that after over 20 years of it weary presences I have somehow managed to keep it under control sometimes even managing it.

For many years I struggled in silence with it, I think I wasn’t willing to admit to myself that what I was feeling was a form of generalized anxiety.

Generalised anxiety made me feel in a sense both embarrassed and defeated, like life dealt me a bad hand. If someone where to tell me to get over it and think about the starving children of Africa I feel even worse. Having anxiety for both them and me and feeling guilty that even though I wasen´t starving I was till in a sense suffering.

When you get to that realization that you may be broken inside it really hurts. The day I started figuring out who I was and what I was feeling it got painfully obvious.

I felt weak and not in Control of myself nor my life. It was a feeling of being the effect not the cause. I Always wanted to be the cause not the effect, to be a strong man and a strong person. Everyone around me always seemed to manage life better, I Always felt envious as I could not understand the life of a normal person.

What is it like to think about what to have for lunch instead of having an existential crisis at age 9?

Man, I so wished I could be that kid thinking about lunch instead…

For years I hid the fact that my mental wellbeing was declining, rarely ever talking to someone about what was going on inside me. During the years I also had a couple of mental breakdowns.

I would best describe them as the ultimate mindfuck, leaving me in a state of vegetation on the couch or in the bed.

I even had total amnesia one day, forgot which day it was, what season and basically who I was. This lasted very shortly but it was probably one of the scariest things I ever had happen to me. I can only explain it as a severe stress/anxiety reaction.

Sometimes it felt like some higher Power guided me through my mental breakdowns, still to this day I can’t grasp the fact that I survived them.

But I survived, I lived through the darkness that is anxiety. I sometimes lived with the uncertainty to the point where living it day by day was my only option. The future was just too much to keep in mind.

Meet anxiety the blob in my chest, it is always there. Sometimes I can´t feel it because it is sleeping but it is Always there that much I’ve learned. But when I feel it it´s like a blob inhabiting my chest, a black blob running like motor oil down my chest and lungs.

When it awakens it burns in my chest and my heart starts pounding. This is usually accompanied with a doom and gloom mindset that seem´s to come out of nowhere.

It usually reveals itself at the worst time imaginable just to remind me not to get too comfortable. Always there lurking in the corner of my mind.

This morning I woke up at 6am having a cup of coffee while watching the sun rise over the apartment complex. Days like these I feel like I am going to be ok. Days like these I just know I found an inner strength, a resilience to go on no matter what.

I do Believe anxiety can be life´s greatest teacher. No matter how painful and life severing anxiety can be I still Believe it has a value. A value in teaching us contrast.

Coming to the conclusion that Life has it´s up´s and downs for a reason, Life teaches us to live by showing us all of what we can be. We can´t choose to be nothing because we are someone, a person with value and someone who others love.

I would not be who I am today if it where not for you anxiety, I may not have woken up at 6am to watch the sun rise . I may not have the courage, inner strength and will to live if it where not for you. Thank you.

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Written by: Guest Writer Johan from http://theprofoundshift.wordpress.com/

My Weekly Wrap-up 2/11 – 2/17

It has been an interesting week for The Bipolar Writer. To be honest, it’s been a long month. I am working on some of my anxiety, and I have been so busy I needed a day off yesterday. I think it did me some good, and at the same time, it didn’t really help me.

I talked to my therapist this week which helped now that she up to speed. We made the decision to work on my panic attacks first before we tackle the issues with my social anxiety. It makes sense. I need to get my panic attacks back under control. It is never easy but I am hopeful looking towards the next few weeks. It is a good thing that February is a short month.

With that said here is the wrap-up of the last week on The Bipolar Writer.

My Depression is Not My Story

This first blog was by Alan Wolfgang one of the contributor writers here on The Bipolar Writer blog. In this post, Alan chronicles some of his experiences with depression. In this piece, he also talks about his experiences with suicide. It is a good read especially at the end where the author shares his thoughts about being glad that he is still alive.

A Time To Let Go

This blog post is a talented contributor writer Kilee Goecke about love and when it is time to let go when someone doesn’t love you back. It’s a great piece about life and moving on, something everyone with a mental illness can relate to. I especially like this quote from the piece:

“There is so much more life out there. Happiness, friendships, and open doors. Go seek them out, feeling confident you gave it your best. Because in the end, you didn’t lose, they did.”

Is It Really That Bad?

I have been featuring over the past few weeks the expansion of The Bipolar Writer blog, and this blog post is from another talented contributor— Chelsea Owens. This is a very thought-provoking piece. It opens up in a great way with a question.

“Throughout my life, I’ve wondered if I have or will have a mental illness. How would I know?”

This is a really great piece where Chelsea explores this very important question that we all face. This is a great piece by a great contributor writer for my blog.

Making Changes, Again

In my life, I often overdo things. I am always working my ass off because, well I lost so many years. In this Bipolar anxiety filled life that I live it is all about the adjustments that I have to make to move forward. I have been dealing with increasing anxiety and panic attacks. In this blog post, I explain some of the changes I have made this week.

Music That Changes my Mood – Part 13

This is another great edition of music that changes that mood. It features some of my music from my playlist of music that changes my mood.

Sorry, That Doesn’t Fit With my Schedule

In this blog post by contributor, writer Belababbles talks about a recent appointment with her psychiatrist in the throes of a manic episode. In this blog post the contributor author talks in depth about self-care. Here is an excerpt from the post:

“Self-care is so incredibly important. When we nourish our minds and bodies they are in a much better place to care for us. There are so many things/activities/acts that can qualify for self-care. Wearing a nice dress and doing your makeup. Getting a message. Going for a walk. Making a good, nutritious dinner. Taking a shower. All these things count as self-care.”

The Thoughts of a Depressed Mind

Another great post from contributor writer Alan Wolfgang. In this post, he shares his thoughts on depression and what it means to actually live through a really tough depression episode. Here is an excerpt from the post

“My brain is usually an endless stream of thoughts like this, and it is always very tiring. I think it’s probably one of the greatest strengths in my writing because it allows me to write as the story flows through my head. I mean at times it’s wonderful. But, I’m sure you can imagine what this was like at the rock bottom of my depression.”

What it Has Meant to me to Expand The Bipolar Writer

In this post, I talk about my expansions of The Bipolar Writer blog since its inception. It has truly been an amazing journey to see my blog grow over the last six months and in this post I talk about the possibilities that are in store for my blog.

Victoria’s Interview Feature

In my only interview feature blog post this week I explore the journey of Victoria. In this blog post, I explain a new subject never before talked about on The Bipolar Writer Blog— Victoria’s Struggle With Vaginismus. It has lead to depression and anxiety in her life. It was such a great feature to share on my blog. Here is a quote from the blog post:

“After having sex for the first time. I discovered excruciating pain that went along with it,” she explains. “I did a Google search and “vaginismus” came up.”

Masquerade

This blog post was a poem written by contributor writer Alternativesunnydays. In the poem, it talks about a range of topics all related to anorexia, mental illness, depression, and self-acceptance. Here is a couple of stanzas from the poem.

i simply saw dark circles and ugly ribs
and a confused little girl who needed to confront her demons
before they destroyed her soul
the same way they had killed her body
so instead of fighting for frailness
and holding on to the illness
that had for so long pretended to be my friend
i finally began exposing the voices that haunted me

Depression & Dave Chappelle

In this blog post from the talented contributor, writer Blogsfromthedge talks about David Chappelle and his genius, and also his struggles with depression. It seems it is very common among comedians. Here is an excerpt from the blog post:

“I think oftentimes in the mental health community we are too quick to overlook the different faces of depression. Chappelle may not have clinical depression (don’t quote me on that) but he sure as hell wasn’t/isn’t experiencing heaven on earth. This type of depression is something he carries with him because of society. The heaviness weighed him down so much that he had to walk off stage.”

Why I Don’t Regret My Suicide Attempts, and Neither Should You

Suicide is such hard topic to discuss, but in the same breath, I can’t express the need for the topic to be discussed. Alan Wolfgang this week shares his own thoughts about his suicide attempts and why he doesn’t regret his past. It is agood way of thinking because those of us who have survived suicide know that it never ends there, we will be living with our past. That isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Here is an excerpt from the blog post:

“But the truth of the matter is that I do not regret attempting to take my own life. What’s done is done, I can’t ever take it back. So I’ve moved on and learned through each experience. I’ve come to realize, that when it comes down to it, I wouldn’t be where I am now if I hadn’t tried to kill myself. That I wouldn’t even really be who I am now.”

An Update on My Social Anxiety Life

This small post is just an update about my current struggles with my social anxiety and where I go from my latest struggles. Social anxiety is my major life theme of 2018 and it is important to me to update how things are going. It seemed this was just the start of my social anxiety posts this week.

The Scars of My Past

In this post, I talk a little bit more about what self-harm has been like in my life. I really liked the responses to this post as so many of my fellow bloggers shared theirs on experiences with self-harm. I am so glad that this post received such positive sharing of stories because it is an important subject to discuss.

Lemons and Lemonade

This another great post from my contributor writer Bellababbles where she talks about when life gives you lemons. Here is an excerpt that I thought would explain the blog post perfectly:

“There has been a saying, “when life hands you lemons, make lemonade!” Of course, it is not saying to make a glass of lemonade when something bad happens (unless that helps you deal with the situation). It is metaphorical in that it suggests that when we are given something that is sour, damaged, misleading or not what we expected, to turn it into something that is sweet, enjoyable and that has more of a positive connotation to it, like lemonade. More or less, add sugar to a sour situation and make the best of it.”

Live Blogging Anxiety and Panic Attack

This was an interesting blog post. I had gone out of my comfort zone and went out during my worst time that my anxiety peaks (between 4-7 pm.) It was interesting because I had a panic attack but recovered quickly. It once again started in my car.

Dark Fantasies

This blog post was a short story about depression from contributor writer Alan Wolfgang. It is a short story but it is very interesting.

Holidays and Kids

In this blog post by Kilee Goeke talks about a tough week in her mental illness struggles. Here is an excerpt from the blog post:

“Then, later in the week my youngest son, only 17, signed up and got sworn into the United States Marine Corps. He leaves either April or May. When did my baby grow up? To hear your child say the words “I swear to protect my country from all enemies, foreign and domestic…” (rephrased) that’s pretty hard to hear as a mom. My older two also went into the Marine Corps. While I couldn’t be more proud of them, it’s tough being a Marine mom. Very tough.”

That is it for this week. It has been a busy one for The Bipolar Writer blog. It has been good is of contributor writers and my own musings this week. I think it will be really great to see what new and exciting topics we discuss this week.

James Edgar Skye

Photo Credit:

unsplash-logoEster Marie Doysabas