Category Archives: bi-polar

It’s been a while………..

aunty-17 It’s a while since I picked up a pen, or danced my fingers across the keyboard to do anything other than check my bank balance (depressing) or see who sent me emails I don’t need/want/require/or are of any benefit. Although I probably could do with the diet pills, I certainly don’t need a penile enlargement, to find out if my partner is cheating on me, a Russian bride, to claim the lottery prizes (of which there are quite a few) that I have won (but never entered!!) or any of the other asinine stuff that comes to my inbox every day.

Digression over, it’s been a while….

It’s been a while since I had any time to myself. It’s been a while since I felt able to string a coherent set of thoughts together. It’s been a while since I have had any sort of peace within myself. And it’s been a while since I simply felt like putting down on paper/screen/(out of my head) my thoughts; because once I do that I have to confront what is there before me. And that’s the difficult part….. The thing with bipolar is I never really trust my own feelings. Are they real? Is my anger justified? Why am I really sad, or frustrated, or discouraged, or upset? Is what I am feeling real at all? I have started sessions with a psychologist and she’ll be teaching me the techniques of cbt, but before any of the good stuff that will actually help is talked about, she’s brought me back to places I’m not sure I want to revisit. She’s brought me back to a time in my life I wanted to just forget, wipe from my memory as if I can just ignore its very existence. She is making me dredge up things I either wanted to ignore, or forgot about in some sort of self-protection approach. She’s a lovely psychologist, but I have left the last three sessions with her in tears by the end. And then I’m upset for the week. I’m facing issues about myself and others around me that I don’t particularly want to face. Because facing issues like that means that action must then be taken. Without some sort of action, this will all be pointless.

I don’t know why I was reluctant to undergo this type of therapy. Strike that, I think I do. – My psych told me at my last two sessions with her that my recent ‘issues’ were not bipolar related – that she feels I am instead having a bit of a crisis and an inability to deal with the stresses of life – for which she cannot prescribe any medication because I’m at the highest limit for my particular meds (we just recently changed the anti-depressant anyway – but she says its not related to my recent anxieties!!); hence the psychology sessions!! The first time she said it, I passed it off as her having a bad day, because surely I can’t be “not able” to cope with “life”. That sounded ridiculous to me. I’ve coped with bp for so long, how can it now be that ‘life’ is getting in the way… how can it be that it is simply the stresses and anxieties of life that is now making me feel this wretched. The second time she said it however, I had to take notice. She suggested the psychology sessions and organized them fairly promptly which brings me to the last month. It’s so easy to label everything that goes wrong in my life as ‘bipolar related’. It’s easy to pass off feelings of insecurity, anger, despair as being the symptoms of the illness I have for so long shouldered. In labeling them that way, then it becomes easy to avoid doing anything about them because the root cause is not of my making, well not really – it’s in my head – its only my ‘illness’ talking. Except sometimes it’s not in my head. That is what this psychologist is making me face. She is making me face myself and my decisions and my actions or inactions in a very cool, calm way – but its wreaking havoc on me. I come out of there a snotty mess. For the last few weeks she’s shook my hand and said it will get better. But before that happens we have to go back….. Go back and dig up stuff I don’t want to. Go forward and deal with stuff I’d rather label as bipolar related, go and look myself in the mirror and say ‘yeah, but how do you really feel’..

And I’m terrified.

I’m terrified of what I will see.

I’m terrified what I will find out about myself

I’m terrified of what I will have to then do about it.

I’m not sure if I have used my bipolar as a crutch my whole life or as an excuse, or as a shield. Perhaps it’s a bit of all three, perhaps its none of those; I really don’t know. And that’s the terrifying part. That and what’s now going to happen.

Shit, I hate the unfamiliarity of all this….

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What have you got to be depressed about?

angry question

It is almost impossible to describe what depression feels like to someone who has never struggled or suffered with a bout. There are words that can be used to perhaps capture some of the darkness/sadness/despondency/desolation that is felt as part of depression, but unless you have lived/felt/struggled with it, you don’t truly understand it.

So I’ve been visiting my family on the other side of the planet, where it is supposed to be heading into Autumn. But the last vestiges of summer are far from over. The weather is as bright and glorious and warm as any summer’s day and when I open my curtains, I still can’t get over the surprise of having a blue sky greet me every day. It’s great to have the sun on my skin – most definitely it lifts the mood.


One of my clan doesn’t understand depression, doesn’t seem to want to understand depression, and is sort of, kind of, way too upset that I still show the signs of the “low mood” she saw last year. (her words not mine)
After a clan gathering, we went back to her place, where I am spending most of my time and I was asked to explain why I was still not “better”. Let me put it this way she demanded to know why I am still not ‘back’ to my old self (the asymptomatic individual she used to see most of the time).
“What is that all about: explain it to me, explain why you are still depressed when you have no stress, no job, your kids are great, you can do what the fuck you like every day and have no money worries, explain to me what you have to be depressed about?”

So I started off trying to explain depression and how it works. But the member of clan got that. “I know why you got depressed in the first place, but why are you still depressed. Most of that stress is gone now.”
To be fair to member of clan, my life has had to drastically change in the last year, so change it did. So again, calmly I set about trying to explain that the brain is like any other organ in the body and depression is in very simple terms a sick brain. It takes time to heal, even with medication helping along the way.
No, clan sill didn’t get it.
It’s the most selfish, self-centred self-obsessed thing to just ‘give in’ to feeling down, they say. It’s the epitome of being self absorbed in your own little world, where only you matters” Clan ranted…!!

So again I tried but this time with a medical metaphor.

“Say that you have appendicitis and you are in intense pain. So you go in to hospital and have an operation to remove the source of your pain. What you are saying to me about depression is like me expecting you to get up off the operating table and expecting you to have no pain, no side effects and be ‘better’ as soon as the surgeon makes the last cut and removes your appendix because the source of your pain is gone and getting annoyed at you because you have to be sown up and recover from the operation. It’s exactly the same thing; the brain is an organ and needs recovery time.”
Clan didn’t get it. Clan perhaps didn’t want to get it. No matter how many metaphors I came up with, no matter how many ways I tried to explain the processes involved in dealing with and recovering from depression, clan just shook her head and said “Nah, don’t get it”….
“Its just self-obsession” became the mantra of the night…
So I lot my temper with clan.
I shouted at clan, the word ‘fuck’ was used liberally in my sentences, I got up off my seat and slammed the back door and went to my bedroom shaking like a leaf. I was angry and upset. I was upset that I had to explain myself. Upset that clan couldn’t or wouldn’t get the fact that depression is not something easily cured. Upset that clan didn’t recognize how far I’d come in the past year, just harked on about the fact I’m not quite all the way back. Upset that clan thinks I am self absorbed, self-obsessed and selfish. And I know I am not, I am just not recovered yet.

The next morning, mumbles of “wanna talk”, ended with both of us in tears agreeing that instead of clan “understanding” what depression is and how it works she just has to accept that it “IS” and leave it at that.

A few days later, we met a pal of Clans who I know struggles with depression also. He and I have had many conversations about how it has affected our lives in the past. This is the first time I’ve seen him in a year.
“How are you travelling”, friend asks.
“Getting there,” says I. “Anxiety still a factor, sleepless nights still worrying, but mostly stable at the moment. Meds dose quite high, making me forgetful though. How are you?” says I.
“Meds have me flat. Don’t like it there, in that zone. Yeah, know what you mean about the anxiety. But yeah, travelling well otherwise, for the most part.”
We nod at each other. No other words are necessary. I know what he means; he knows what I mean. How easy it is to be understood when conversing with someone who struggles as I do….. It doesn’t matter what I have or have not got to be depressed about, it just matters that I am struggling/still fighting on – and I am understood.
My clan has watched me for over 20 years struggle with this and still doesn’t understand. What hope is there to educate those who aren’t clan/family/friends and have them truly understand what it is like to struggle with depression?

(Picture thanks to

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I think, therefore I am: I can’t think, therefore I am sick?!

sick image

Sick: definition:
1. afflicted with ill health or disease; ailing.
2. affected with nausea; inclined to vomit.
3. deeply affected with some unpleasant feeling, as of sorrow, disgust, or boredom: sick at heart; to be sick of parties.
4. mentally, morally, or emotionally deranged, corrupt, or unsound:
a sick mind; wild statements that made him seem sick.

Being sick in actual terms to most of us simply means being unwell. But for the purposes of this post, for me it means being cognitively impaired (unable to think!) in some fashion. As the title says: I can’t think, therefore I am sick!
Day to day I am able to function, but I find myself functioning ‘slower’ than I remember myself doing when I was younger. (I remember a vibrant, outspoken, cocky, self-assured, ‘I can take on the world’ 20 year old who thought she had the world at her feet, ready for the conquering.)
Now, I just seem to think slower, take longer to recall information, forget things/conversations/events/promises altogether, take longer to make a decision and just simply seem to operate slower altogether across all spheres of my life. I notice it, others might not. It annoys the hell out of me, especially the recalling of information. (Ever have the feeling that something is on the ‘tip of your tongue’, a word, phrase, an event… just out of reach of your working memory.. yep, that’s me too…)

The medical profession have, for years, understood that cognitive impairment goes hand in hand with psychiatric disorders such as schizophrenia and Alzheimer’s. It is only in the last few years that the idea of lasting cognitive impairment in those of us struggling with bipolar disorder is being given any weight.
We all know that during spells of mania or depression that cognitive impairment is part and parcel of our dysfunction/spell. But lasting cognitive impairment even in euthymic/stable individuals is a new train of thought for the medical profession. I don’t for the life of me see why it took so long for neurologists to even think this. As someone who struggles with bipolar I could have told you I had some sort of deficit.; but no one asked!!?

Unlike patients who are schizophrenic, those of us with bipolar do not have to deal with IQ deficits, but we do have to deal with difficulties in attention span as well as short and long term memory difficulties, – at least I do. I can recall events from twenty years ago with a crisp clarity, but ask me to recall an event that happened two months ago and I will ask you what month that was?

Bipolar disorder/illness is really the ‘poor relation’ among psychiatric illnesses. We are the ones whose ‘illness’ appears not to matter as much as others, whose symptoms are not worthy of being studied or not studied as much, and despite being on the WHO’s radar in sixth place in the top ten causes of disability worldwide in the 15 – 44 year age group, it is only now that neurological/psychiatric studies into the long term effect of bipolar illness on memory/cognitive functions are taking place.

There is no doubt that some of the medications from the myriad of meds out there can actually exacerbate the problem of memory loss/recall and perhaps it is for this reason that we have been left behind in the field of long-term studies. It’s been seen as a ‘med thing’ and not a ‘symptom thing’. Or perhaps it is because depression of any kind has for so many years been brushed under the carpet and ignored as were/are the people struggling with it. Any sort of medical treatment is expensive. Specialist treatment by expert professionals is even more so, so perhaps it is a matter of cost that hardly enough study has been conducted into the side effects/symptoms of long term depression. It has been ‘bean-counted’ and we have come up as disposable or not worth the risk – until now.

At least the sands appear to be shifting. At least now, more research is being done – it’s better late than never I suppose. And it’s not too late for me. I have a tendency to write myself off – hey, that’s a symptom of my bipolar, but I’m not dead yet and until that happens there is always hope – an anticipation that things will improve for those of us struggling with bipolar and an expectation that better medications will appear and more studies will be done so that one day, perhaps, we can be symptom free – completely- for the rest of our lives. Now wouldn’t that be wonderful?


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February’s here and that means………

kangaroo image

I have family in Australia. The land of sunshine and red earth, they all call it Paradise.. Hey Edel, we live in Paradise…!! I hate ‘em..
I emailed my brother last Spring and described the swans nestling on the banks of the local canal where I walk. His email came back filled with the dolphins he sees in the river every day as he travels in to work, blinded by the sunshine… No comparison really now is there?

My sister and two of my three brothers have all been in Australia for the past eight years, my eldest brother has been there for the past 23. He’s an Aussie now, even the Irish brogue is well gone from his voice and believe me, that’s difficult to get rid of.
Winter is a difficult time of the year. November/December are the most difficult for me. Christmas brings little joy as most of my family members are not even in the same hemisphere as me. There can be a bit of the “bah, humbug” about me. Then comes January and it (depression, sadness, general grumpiness) just seems to get worse. Spring is not quite here yet, Summer (and holidays) seems along way off and the Christmas holidays are now a distant memory. It is statistically the month of SAD, seasonal affective disorder….. Follow this link for a really good general article:

10 Winter Depression Busters for Seasonal Affective Disorder
(I hope that works…. I’m really shit at embedding permalinks into my stuff…)

Anyway, under normal circumstances, I am looking at facing into a long and dreary few months. But it’s February and that means Australia beckons. I am lucky enough that most years I can make my way to my siblings to spend a few weeks with them and while there, soak up the warming, uplifting sunlight. Last year I crawled there on all fours (metaphorically speaking). I almost didn’t come home. The sunshine didn’t really lift the heavy veil of sadness that seemed to have just wrapped itself around me. This year, it’s better. And I am a few weeks away from heading down under, to my beloved sister and brothers when I can bathe in the light and joy of my family. I can taste it. I can’t wait. And then I feel ashamed at feeling so euphoric.

This past year has brought many changes in my life. I’ll be turning 47 in April so I am no spring chicken, but I find myself facing into this year with a ‘blank diary’. It is the first time in my life that I have nothing planned, I have no work, my ‘children’ are almost reared, my life is my own. To be honest, I am a bit scared. I can fill my days with housework and washing if I want, but there is more to life than clean clothes and a spotless kitchen! So what to do with my life is the next question, or perhaps more aptly, what to do with the next phase of my life. I’m not ready, able or willing to go back to work of some sort yet. My career of the past twenty years is over for the moment. I have to either reinvent myself, or find something along the same lines as what I know to do for the next god knows how long until I can formally retire..!

For the moment, I am looking forward to the next few weeks where I am with my family. That is enough for me, for now…….

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This is my daughter….. and I am so proud

Okay, so this link doesn’t work if you just try to click on the link to follow it. But if you cut and paste it to a new tab it brings you to the video…. Hope this works folks… Let me know if it doesn’t!


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Just when you thought things were getting better……….

What a strange journey is this life….

I find myself at a strange crossroads. The past year has not been an easy journey. It has been filled with doubt, fear, loathing, and such a sad sorrow. Even describing it like this just doesn’t do it “justice”. It’s been crippling, emotionally, physically, every which way. It’s a year, almost to the day since I went to my psydoc and got the diagnosis that on top of my now swinging bipolar I was also suffering severe depression – unrelated!! Go figure!!

I’ve been wondering at the highs and lows of the past year, wondering how I got through the year to start with, how I’ve come out of the worst of it, what will be the lasting effects of it and where to go from here…

I’ve often felt I must have done something terrible in a past life to deserve this bipolar. I’ve often felt that I am the luckiest person on the planet to have the family I have. I’ve often wanted to go to bed, take a pile of pills and not wake up the next day because at that particular time in my life, it was just too hard to try and live each day. I’ve often thanked my lucky stars I didn’t do that.

There is a part of me that knows this illness is responsible for some of the worst times in my life. There is also a part of me that feels I deserve the worst times of my life and then some. There is a part of me that feels like I deserve the treatment I receive from friends – that I am less important than them in some way and therefore deserve to be left by the wayside as some have chosen to do. There is a huge part of me that really resents that, but deep down somewhere there is a part of me feels that I must have done something or said something to actually deserve it. I’ve often said before that without a support group we don’t get through this unscathed, none of us. But unless your ‘support group’ sign up to that willingly, can you blame them for vamoosing.. I’m using the pronoun ‘you’ here, but I really mean me.
I don’t really know what I want to say, or write here today, I just know that for some reason the last few weeks I have been doubting who I am. Things are not easy at the moment in this house. Tensions are high and bubbling away ready to burst at a moments provocation. I don’t like it. It makes me feel nervous. Because of the depression, we have all had a tough year. My kids have to put up with a lot when I’m ‘absent’. So does himself. Everyone does. Its insidious – it affects everyone, no man is an island and with depression you can’t live alone so you affect those around you too. So I suppose this whole family is in recovery…. We are all trying desperately to just get through it. And it’s hard. Today is hard. Today I just want to go back to bed and pull the covers over my head and wait for tomorrow……

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Can you really re- take ‘control’ of your life if you live with bipolar?

First off, notice I have given it a small ‘b’… that is one way I can minimize its importance in my life!! Okay, joking aside, there are quite a few posts on line at the moment about taking control – doing things right, lowering meds, eating healthily, exercising often, etc etc and therefore exerting some sort of control over your bipolar rather than the other way round.

I always read them and I mean absolutely no offence here, with a hint of trepidation. Yes, there is no doubt that eating right or better helps. Yes, there is no doubt that exercising which helps release dopamines helps. Yes, there is no doubt that trying to cut out stress from your life helps. But there is a part of me that recognises that health professionals/specialists don’t really know what triggers bipolar in most of us in the first place, so while we can ‘minimize’ our exposure to known triggers, there is no way we can negate them altogether by food/exercise/stress release etc etc.

I am all for medication. Give it to me if it stops the swings. I am all for CBT, if it works for you; whatever floats your particular boat, go for it. But because there is still so little known about the brain or how it actually works, all we can do is make educated guesses that something will or will not work for some or most of us, some or most of the time.   All you need to look at to see this is true is the medication some of us take for bipolar: carbamazepine was first produced to stop seizures in people who have epilepsy. Don’t ask me how they realized it helped stabilize moods in those of us with bipolar, but I’m sure there was some guineapig somewhere… We don’t even have our own dedicated medication. It’s all just presumption.   I know there are those who feel that having a level of control over their illness is important, and I in no way want to belittle that. I’m just not sure if we can ever have control over something that is inherently uncontrollable.  Even neurologists and psychiatrists don’t understand the illness fully themselves, and they are the specialists!!!!

Yes, we are the specialists on how bipolar affects each of us individually. Yes, we can try and reduce the amount of ‘attacks/episodes/swings/outbreaks we have but for me to control them completely, nah, I would have to be in a bubble all the time! Himself and I were talking about this just the other day. I suppose because I had such a shitty year he’s hypersensitive to me at the moment. He notices that even when I come back from doing the grocery shopping I am stressed. I don’t like crowded places (that particular ‘symptom’ appears to be getting worse over the years. I have a real problem with people invading my ‘personal space’) I don’t like being rushed and the supermarkets here don’t pack your bags, you’ve to do it yourself. That would be fine, if the cashiers went slowly enough that you could pack your bags in any sort of relative comfort; they do however ring through my groceries as if it is an Olympic sport and they want to win the gold. So I end up with a pile of groceries on a tiny shelf, my bags half full, stuff on the floor, sweating profusely and stressed to the eyeballs.   Its little things like that, and believe me I know how little that is, that just cause ‘stress’! It’s ridiculous to get stressed over groceries, but hey, that’s me at the minute.   The simple answer would be to bring someone with me to help, but I’m also not helpless and I don’t want to feel helpless.  See what I mean about the bubble!! Of course I try to limit my stress, of course I try to eat right and exercise often; its not always possible, but I suppose the secret of success is not to give up trying.

I know some of my ‘triggers‘ but not all, not by any means. Sometimes it appears as if nothing triggers an attack. But I read research, I read blogs here all the time and so try to learn from other peoples experiences. So how can you control something when you have no idea what sends you out of control in the first place.

Basically, that is how I view my bipolar; I am not in control of when I feel sad, when I feel manic, when I feel angry, when I feel depressed to the point I can’t get out of bed.   Obviously there are times when I am in a ‘normal’ phase that I can feel angry and be in control of that, etc, but that is not what I am talking about. I’m talking about the out of control times; the bipolar times.  I can only speak for myself. I inhabit only my own head (thank goodness!!), and I know my triggers are random, varied and still unspecified. I can’t control my illness, it still pretty much controls me most of the time. I have to just go with the flow and hope an episode won’t last too long, and I won’t do too much damage along the way.

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I’m Taking CRAZY Back!

I don’t live in the US, but I am listening to the call to arms!! Crazies of the world unite….. Fab post

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So Long and Thanks for all the Fish…..??

Whenever I think of saying ta-ra to anyone, that line from the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy pops in to my head – that and the number 42! Sometimes I say it, sometimes I don’t; it really depends on who I am talking to.   I’ve felt very busy recently. I say felt, because I am not doing more than I was, or getting more accomplished than I have in the past, but it just seems that time is not my friend at the moment. I have about enough time for “myself”, to be able to comment on someone else’s post (and I have a few favourites because of their prolificness and their wit) and then I have to leave wp and go do ‘stuff’.

I swore that this year things would be different. That I would make time for me – make time for my passions, what I am good at. I swore I would take up a new hobby and develop that to create an aura of calm around myself – in other words cut out the stresses and strains of life. I swore that this year, I won’t ever, ever, ever, ever go back to where I was last year. I saw Prof PC yesterday and she says I am doing okay, but we’re not changing the meds, or reducing them.  She says my desperate and profound memory loss is to do with the depression and it will wear off as the depression lifts. So I guess then because I am medicated up to my eyeballs, I’m managing to keep the worst symptoms at bay so that has to be a good thing! Roll on the Summer and the light – I always, well mostly always, feel better in the sun.

Anyway, back to so long and thanks for all the fish!  I don’t know what to do. I am I suppose a bit of a coward. My life has been ‘complicated’ where relationships outside of my core family are concerned. I think that comes with being a card-carrying member of the Bipolar Club. (I really don’t know how to explain this other than to say it, but as I am going over it in my head, it seems petty and small…..) But here goes….

I had a best friend. (I know I know, I’m a woman in my 40’s but she was my Bessie mate…) We did everything together, got boyfriends together, got married (not together, but around the same time) had our babies at the same time, reared our kids as if they were cousins, never developed any other relationships – we had each other…. and then for reasons I will never understand, she turned on me and said the most grotesque things about me as a parent, me as a woman, me as a nutcase, and my children in general. I sat there and took it, all of it, all the viscous vomit she spewed on me for an hour. She refused to apologise afterwards, and said she meant every word so there was no coming back from that. I lost her that day. I lost her kids that day too, and we all lost each other. I have not seen her since, but I grieved for her as if she were my own sister. Her loss was huge from my life, and the hole she left was enormous – cavernous…!!

And then into my life came two new pals. After spending six months hidden away at home, I had to do something I was going stircrazy, so I joined the parents association of my children’s school and put my name forward for their board of management too. I met these ladies at the PA. They were gas, a breath of fresh air, a tonic for my wounded heart. And they came into my life at exactly the moment I needed someone/something else.  And so for the past ten years almost, we have been buddies, we didn’t live in each others pockets, but we had great fun, we went out to dinners, we cooked for each other, we went out for a drink and a chat and away for weekends and it was wonderful. Then the last eighteen months happened and I became a hermit, I hid because I couldn’t face the world and they were “absent”. No phone calls, no text messages, no facebook comments – nada, nothing, zilch. When I was properly medicated up to my eyelids, I rang them and asked to go out. So we went out. They had seen each other during the last eighteen months regularly (as we all had done before my meltdown) and talked about so much I was not privy to, I didn’t know the background of and just events I hadn’t a clue about. It was very plain to see they were awkward. I felt awkward. We all felt awkward. And so the evening ended, I went home, they went home and that as they say has been that…

On Christmas Eve as I sat in my sitting room with the Christmas tree glistening away in one corner and the fire roaring in the fireplace, I felt wistful, so I sent them both off a FB message wishing them a wonderful few days and hoping that next year we would see each other more. One answered with the same sentiments, silence from the other…

So I don’t know if what I am feeling about what they are feeling (??) is correct. I don’t know if I am projecting my awkwardness onto them. There were times last year when my heart ached so badly, where I regarded myself as a piece of shit not worth even being on someone’s foot, where if I had had a way or a tiny bit more of a will, I could just have disappeared and where I felt no one would have cared or noticed. And they were silent!

I don’t know if I am flogging the dead horse of friendship here, I don’t know if I am ‘forcing’ myself on them, or if I am welcomed anymore. How do you ask that? I’m a woman in her late 40’s for gods sake I don’t want to ask them are the okay being my friend!!!! How pathetic does that sound. And as I write this I again have to come back to the fact I think this whole thing is so pathetic in comparison to ‘real’ problems. But I also know you need someone, people with depression need someone, or lots of someones – I need someone. I will never again let myself become so dependent on one person as a friend that if anything happens I am back to where I was ten years ago. So these pals are important to me. I just don’t know if I am important to them? And I don’t know how to find out without simply asking – and then we’re back to the coward thing!


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Depression – it’s not an illness, it’s an infection!!!!! REALLY!!????


Okay, so as I sit here, I am spitting mad. My sister in law sent me a link via facebook this morning that stated depression is a an allergic reaction to inflammation in the body. So I read that article which was based on another one that appeared in the Guardian Newspaper in the UK but that article went further and suggested that depression was an infectious disease and there was new hope for sufferers in the form of anti-inflammatory medication, diet and herbs…

Read it for yourself and let me know what you think…..


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