In a world of imperfections, perfect pairs are sometimes hard to come by. Compound that with the challenges I have faced living with Bipolar 1 disorder and anxiety; the terms happy, let alone perfect, can sometimes seem like a myth. I am only 38 years old, and for over 20 of those years, I’ve spent my time seeing countless psychiatrists, taking a myriad of medications, and continuing down a road that I hope will one day lead me to a place of acceptance; of my faults, of my disorder, of myself!
It started with me not wanting to get out of bed or off the couch. And then it turned into I don’t want to do this today. Only it was something I couldn’t miss, so I had to get up and I had to go.
So my experience begins as early as 1969. I was 3 years old and way too big and wild for my small 5 foot 2 and disabled(from polio when she was small)mom to handle. She took me to a child psych who determined right off that I was indeed "hyperactive" was the term they used back then. I immediately spied the doctors stool on wheels, flopped down on it and started "orbiting" the room.
Late 2016, my mother finally decided to see a psychiatrist though it wasn’t a voluntary decision. She was discharged from a 21-day stay at a medical facility and was diagnosed with anxiety as a mental illness. I don’t know the “real” details of the stay because from what I hear her tell me time and time again, everything she says matches symptoms of several mental illnesses.
When I think about my years spent growing up in the public school system, my stomach knots up and I cringe. But not for the reason you may think. I don’t get that yucky feeling because the school system failed me. I get it due to the memory of how awful it felt to have ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder) and go undiagnosed for forty years.
Psych ward E
Knowing now why we are called patients, the psycho’s all awaiting their release sit staring at walls, watching their skin and looking internally with idle minds, contemplating the reasons they are here and when it will be they are given back their freedoms. Waiting by the nursing station for someone to ask how we are or if they are okay- we wait patiently.
It all started the beginning of my freshman year. I was a very soft, naïve kind of person and I was getting to know my new environment a little better. I was learning where to hang out at break and lunch, my classrooms, getting to know my teachers, all that fun stuff. Pretty soon I felt like high school was going to be a walk through the park and everything would go perfectly. I'd get through all four years and walk out the same fella I was when I went in. I couldn't have been more wrong at any time in my life. One of my particular classes was called AVID (Advancement Via Individual Determination) which was a fairly cheery atmosphere. After about two months through the year is when I met a girl, which for the sake of protection, we will refer to her as GG.
If you are contemplating whether to go to a rehab facility for yourself or someone that you love, the following paragraphs will help you decide whether going to rehab is right for you. You should keep in mind that there are pros and cons of going to rehab facilities and this will help you to make a decision on whether or not to attend a treatment program.
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Are ibogaine treatments safe? The answer to this question is probably a resounding yes. Ibogaine Therapy Centers have been around for over three decades, treating opiate addiction like heroin and OxyContin addiction, cocaine abuse, methamphetamine abuse, and various other drug addictions.
I would like to treat all my mental health problems at a rehabilitation facility in Los Angeles called Bridges To Recovery. For this to happen I have to make my own money, and move out. I'd rent a house in LA to start with, so I can put my things there, then live at the facility for like a year while taking online classes, and starting a Bachelor's in film and television and an MFA program next at UCLA. I don't know if I'm stable enough to go to school if I freak out at Greyschool's workload.
I’m no stranger when it comes to baring my soul. I believe my vulnerability strengthens me. But I’m pretty private about the most traumatic events and patterns in my life, because well, I figure no one really needs to know, we all carry life’s baggage, and for the most part, there are many things that are nobody’s business.