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I am scared. Truly, I am frightened by the thought of my disease. At times it completely surrounds every part of my being. The depths of my heart scream out for help, just looking for the right moment to let go. I am wondering if this will ever go away. Do I have to live with this pain and encumberance forever? What happens if I really do go crazy? What happens if I end up on the street? What will happen with all my bills and responsibilities if I end up hospitalized? Who will take care of this for me?
I’m writing from deep inside the rabbit hole. It’s truly a miracle that I’m even writing this, but I have something I really need to say.
I had a humongous Ganglion Cyst (I know, right? ewww) removed from my wrist a week ago. No biggie, right? I went under general anesthesia, which I’ve done a few times and besides some nausea, I’m usually fine.
This time, not so much. Ends up, general anesthesia interferes with bipolar medication.
Can You See (The Real Me)?
?Carol S. Battaglia has been in private practice as a solo practitioner for over 20 years. As part of her estate planning practice, she routinely works with families who have disabled family members to create estate plans using special needs trusts. She also assists trial lawyers in establishing court-created special needs trusts, designing structured settlements and implementing other strategies to receive an injured party's settlement funds while maintaining eligibility for government assistance benefits. Ms.
Save the Date for our public forum at the Hilton Del Mar with former Congressman Patrick Kennedy!
Dedicated to the winters of my soul - because hibernation is as much a part of life as hyper-nation :)
I used to fear the crash
Now I know it can be more like a deeper dive
See different things
Or see things differently
Or feel nothing at all
Just because I sometimes don't feel
Does not mean I am not real
Postpartum OCD – Yes, OCD
To be clear, I don’t agree with the victim mentality and it’s not my standard default. When I blame others for my troubles, I’m not taking responsibility for my life and my choices. I always look for my part in any negative, or what I perceive as a negative, experience. I'm very rarely a victim. Unless I'm blindsided or assaulted in my adult life, I'm a volunteer.
I’ve been a little hypomanic again lately. It started, as it usually does, with a reduced need for sleep – even continuing to take my usual doses of lithium and quetiapine (Seroquel) I began to have difficulty drifting off, and started to find myself wide awake hours after the antispychotics have usually kicked in. When I did get to sleep, I found that I was waking frequently throughout the night, every night.
The Matter of Sensitivity
Until my father returned to school to finish his education for the ministry,
I lived in the distant rural, from which I learned many lessons of living. These
lessons came easily to a sensitive mind, the point I wish to discuss as an early
memory of knowing I was “different,” before “bipolar “ was even a contsruct