How Outsiders Can Help

One of the biggest worries of a mentally ill person is that they are a terrible burden on their friends and family. As an outsider, most of what you can contribute is verbal. Regularly remind your loved one that they are not a burden, they are not going to lose you, you love them, and that it’s okay to be upset. Physical contact is also very powerful: a hand on the back, a squeeze of the hand, or a hug can make an enormous difference in the current mental state of your loved one in crisis. If it’s appropriate to your relationship, lay with them and hold them, or let them put their head in your lap so that you can pet the side of their head. This sounds very basic and very infantile, but the difference you’ll make is enormous. Just being present with your sick loved one is powerful. Try to listen without judgment, and try not to give advice, only reassurance that they’re safe and loved. If your loved one is very sick and not making good choices, keep them at home. Even a trip to the grocery store could be catastrophic for their state of being. If they’re not making sense, do not let them cook or drive, and keep a close eye on them to keep them safe.

If your loved one is suicidal, take them immediately to the emergency room, because they’re going to need to Continue reading

The Disclaimer For Your Advice

Meeting Myself CCEach person is mostly like every other person, but not exactly. And the not exactly goes to varying degrees. Some people are sick. Of the people who are sick, there are many different body parts that can be sick. Of the people with one specific sickness in one specific body part, each will have different and varying degrees of the effects of the illness and the effectiveness of their treatment.

Every illness is like this. The world is full of different people; mostly all the same, but each with a personal experience that no one else gets to experience. My mental illnesses are different from yours. Mostly the same, but different.

Don’t assume you know what someone feels because you wear the same label that they do. I, for example, do not have happy mania. Continue reading

Practical Advice For Living Successfully With A Mental Illness

There is a multitude of things I had to learn to manage when I got sick. There are many practical, everyday tasks that must be fulfilled in order to stay in the game. In all of my trial-and-error learning, I’ve figured out some very crucial things. If you’re mentally ill, I hope you learn to do all of these things too.Above the Spiral CC

The first and biggest is managing medicine. You have to take every dose at the right time every day, or it’s not going to work for you. If you feel like your medicine isn’t helping, this may be the culprit. Even the perfect medication only works if you put it in your body on time, every single day, and that is a much bigger undertaking than one would assume. I strongly recommend putting alarms on your phone for every dose-time. When I started, I had to put a backup alarm on, too, for ten minutes after my dose-time, because I got used to hearing the alarm, turning it off, and then forgetting about it and not taking my medication. If your memory is impaired (as mine is), this will be even more challenging, but if you stick to this routine, you will eventually Continue reading

It Is Possible to Lose Weight While on Psychiatric Drugs, and I Believe in You!

Three years ago, I weighed 270 pounds and I was miserable. Now down to 155, I get terrified when I see fat people because I know I could go back to that weight if I’m not careful.

Medicine for psychiatric conditions makes weight control very difficult. It’s another one of those things about mental illness that’s not fair. On Seroquel, my first antipsychotic, I never felt full. Ever. I’d go to the school cafeteria and go back for seconds, thirds, dessert, and, of course, second dessert. My stomach would hurt badly, and I still didn’t feel full. It was like being hungry all the time for two years. Eventually, I leveled out on the Seroquel and could feel full again, but by then I’d put on a lot of weight. As a student at the time, exercise was not part of my routine. I was mostly in survival mode, just trying to keep my head above water.

Over the next few years, I continued to slowly and steadily put on weight. I wasn’t overeating the way I had been before, but I was making a lot of poor choices about what I ate and how much, and I wasn’t physically active. Finally, in 2014, my mom sat across the table from me, watching me eat dessert, and said: “If you’re not careful, you’ll be over three hundred pounds soon.” That struck terror into my heart. I’d gone too far, and I had to find a way to reel myself back in. Continue reading

Helped, but not cured



With episodes, no matter how many tools I use, I still hurt deeply. I cannot be cured. The goal of medicine and coping strategies in my case is to ameliorate my symptoms, not eliminate them. I do have good days. Sometimes I can string them together for a while, but this is how my brain works, and I don’t get to trade it in. Sometimes the idea of living sick for the rest of my life makes me very, very depressed. It can even lead to a thought spiral, which in its own right can trigger an episode.

I can lessen my pain; I cannot eliminate it. Having to live in this consciousness has the unfortunate consequence of being aware that I’m in pain. It’s deep and broad, and sometimes I get swallowed up and go very far away. So far I’ve always come back.

I’ve tried to kill myself twice. The first was hanging; my neck didn’t break and I got caught and was cut down. The second was an overdose of lithium. I planned that one much more thoroughly, and it was not at all an impulse decision. I had to wait two weeks after I finalized my plan so that I could get my refill and have enough to take ten grams or 10,000 milligrams. Eight grams is the lethal dose. I don’t know why I survived, but I’m sure my liver is shot. The good news for me is that it’s only been two times that I’ve tried to commit suicide in the course of eleven years, and my last attempt was only two years into my diagnosis.

Almost everything is much easier now. I’m able to handle my episodes with more strength and sometimes even grace. There is a steep learning curve in bipolar and mental illness, and you have to master things like pharmacies, insurance, doctors, prescriptions, refills and of course your own survival skills that you build as you grow. I know now that I have to be my own advocate as a patient because getting health care of any kind is not a “customer is always right” situation. You either work the system the way it is, or you go without.

Not being cured of bipolar, ever, is discouraging in the extreme. I have to be vigilant with my meds, my exercise, my diet, my sleep schedule, and my mindfulness in order to stay alive. Then, depending on the day, I throw in some other coping tools to help whatever needs helping. I’ve made it to thirty-one years old and twelve years bipolar. I’m pretty damn proud of that.

By Emily Harrington