Tag Archives: psychosis

Catching Up; The SSDI Denial

At this point, more than one curious person has asked me about my attempt in applying for SSDI (Social Security Disability Insurance) and to be totally honest, it is something I have been trying to write about for a few months now.

I received my denial letter a couple months ago (I submit my application in December 2012) and after all the time that has passed I was overjoyed to receive this denial letter.

The reason I was overjoyed to be denied was because my path through the application process was neither easy or uplifting, to say the least!

My first hurdle was working with a team of lawyers who told me appear and act a certain way. They strongly suggested I give up this blog completely, which I was very uncomfortable with. On one hand, I wanted to win, but I truly believe (as do my family, friends, and doctors) that anyone who understands my symptoms and has seen me interact with others would not doubt my claim that I am unable to hold a full time job. It was important to me through this whole process to hold onto that and to be ok if things didn’t work out (because I had been honest the whole time), but it was very difficult to feel manipulation and pressure by my lawyers who were advising me to do things that would undermine many of the things that keep me afloat enough to survive (blogging, therapy, spending time with other people, etc).

The second hurdle was the judge I was assigned for my hearing back in February 2014. Apparently different judges who are making the decision regarding SSDI claims have different political affiliations, different beliefs about the way SSDI should be structured, and different viewpoints on the topic of mental illness (among other things). I was told my judge was the toughest in the county and to expect that I had a chance of about zero. While I expected that walking in, what I didn’t expect was the way the judge treated me in the hearing.

On one hand I could understand that it was the last hearing of the week on a Friday afternoon, and that maybe he’d had a bad cup of coffee earlier or was anxious to get home… but I was not prepared to be verbally abused in the courtroom. For the next couple months I became psychotic, trapped in my mind where this judge was constantly attacking me. I was so distraught that I consented to try Seroquel again.

The third hurdle was a full investigation of me, as prompted by the judge and federal government. The investigation happened when I was (naturally) experiencing a hypomanic period, seemingly corroborating the theory that the judge had that I was attempting to commit SSDI fraud. Detectives posed as Seattle Police officers to gain entry to my apartment where my fear of the SPD kept me from mentioning anything regarding my own mental health -again seemingly corroborating the theory that I was faking it.

When I received a copy of their report in the mail (along with notations of voice recordings, notes from being tailed for a week, and copies of blog entries I had made that were taken out of context) I began to nosedive into a second psychotic tailspin. The men who were agents for the government had spoken to my landlord, neighbors, even people in a weaving group I had no longer been part of for over a year -all about my mental health. The paranoia became overwhelming, and I could no longer feel comfortable in my apartment knowing that space had been violated… so we moved.

It might not seem like such a surprise now that I was hospitalized around Halloween last year. I could hardly even talk to my grandmother on the telephone for fear that they were listening to me, let alone send emails or write in this blog. My lawyers told me not to talk about it, so I relied heavily on Corey (my boyfriend), my therapist, and my psychiatrist. I provided my healthcare team with copies of the paperwork I had been sent about what happened and they were both horrified and flabbergasted, but ultimately they had proof that I was telling the truth and could corroborate that the situation had triggered the symptoms I was having.

The final hurdle was a second hearing, scheduled to address the findings of the undercover investigation against me. Initially the hearing was scheduled to take place the same week as my birthday in November 2014 but was cancelled by the judge and rescheduled for April 2015 (the same week as Corey & my anniversary… lame!).

For many months it had been clear I wasn’t going to win, I just wanted the inquiries and fear to end. Honestly I expected the judge to berate me further in the hearing, but to my astonishment he was much more polite (my lawyer said that was likely because of the documentation of his actions directly leading to my most recent hospitalization in my file). After the back and forth with my lawyer he simply looked at me and said my file was inconclusive because of how inconsistent everything was, from the notes from my healthcare team, to my work history, to the report from the detectives, etc.

This was the one small window I was waiting for. For the first time I was able to do what I do best; relate my symptoms and experience with someone else in a way they can understand. I told the judge that inconsistency is the very nature of my disability… that I can be simultaneously the best and worst employee you’ve ever had, and that it feels impossible to remain consistent when I might have strong feelings of joy one minute and intense feelings of despair or fear the next. Most of my employers have considered having an unreliable employee worse than a mediocre one, so that inconsistency has been a huge hurdle in trying to remain employed.

He looked admittedly thoughtful and said he would reconsider the evidence. This, if nothing else, helped me shake off the fear and paranoia that had accumulated the past couple years. It was the first opportunity I had to defend myself and my life and my reason for applying, and even if I was denied benefits at that point I was simply happy to be rid of the specter that had been haunting me.

Several months later I received my denial. I am happy because it means I am free. I am no longer worried that the government is watching me (though who knows), and though I might not be able to take care of myself financially, I do have, however briefly, (heh) my sanity.

Typically I pride myself on being open about my life and my emotions, and I genuinely went into this SSDI application situation with the intention of writing about it every step of the way. The whole experience was much different than I expected, despite knowing I would be at a disadvantage because of my age and my disability being a mental disability as opposed to a physical one.

While not having benefits means I am in a difficult spot financially, I have proven the last five years that there are many organizations willing to help support those with mental illness who do not make the applicants sing and dance, or trigger extreme worsening of their symptoms before they are willing to help. While the point of this post isn’t to shake my fist at the government or attempt to bring shame on those involved, I can’t help but question this system after I have experienced it firsthand.

Of course, this comes with my usual reminder that this was a situation that happened to me. While I have heard many accounts of people in my local support groups achieving SSDI benefits, I haven’t heard many stories like mine… and though I don’t know if they’re out there, I wouldn’t be surprised if people aren’t completely terrified to share them (I sure was!). This is not the inevitable end of every SSDI application, just one, and to me it seems like one worth pondering.

Ultimately, being under the scrutiny of the federal government was one of the least fun adventures I’ve ever had in my life…

I’ve never been so happy to be denied something before!

I do not intend to reapply any time in the immediate future because, well, I can’t without some kind of proof of my symptoms worsening, for one. Even if I could reapply immediately I don’t think I would, based on how emotionally and mentally overwhelming the whole experience was. I really need some room to breathe in the mental health department, and I have always had the outlook that I do much better when I am poor and slightly more content than when I opt to trade financial stability for increased emotional instability.

The last two years involved the longest periods of psychosis I have ever experienced, so thank you to my friends and family and anyone who was even the least bit supportive in that period (well, and ever). Sometimes it has felt easy for me to believe in the power of the judicial system and “justice” in America, but realistically it is the sense of community in the people that rally around me that have done the most to help keep me going.

So, no SSDI? Ok. I still consider myself to be one very lucky girl!

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Keaton Farris; Mistreatment Bringing a Town Together

*Trigger warning; contains some detail about the mistreatment and death of a man with mental illness*

It seems like every day I hear of a new situation where someone with mental illness has been taken advantage of, abused, or killed with little repercussion. It isn’t every day, however, that I hear about this happening in the small town of Coupeville I grew up in on Whidbey Island in Washington State.

That isn’t to say it doesn’t happen there. I definitely received some spotty (at best) mental healthcare when I lived there 15 years ago, but reports from my family, friends, the community, and the local news have detailed a story much more disturbing than I could have imagined happening in my tiny, sleepy town on my own.

Keaton Ferris, a 25 year old local man who was diagnosed with bipolar disorder was in the Island County jail after not showing up for a hearing. Two weeks later, he was found dead in his cell, with the autopsy report showing he had been denied enough food and water to survive; he died of dehydration.

His parents had been asking to visit him but staff denied all of their attempts to see their son, and they were never told that he was physically unwell.

Allegedly Keaton was denied his medication in jail and quickly became psychotic, at which point the staff was unwilling to treat him properly because they were afraid of his violent behavior.

(Keep in mind, there is a hospital three blocks from the jail, and though there are hospitals in Washington state designed to house and treat people in the criminal justice system with extreme mental illness, they are often too full to take on new patients, leaving them at local hospitals or jails that are completely unequipped to manage in a professional way.)

While the staff neglected to properly feed and hydrate Keaton, they also did not check on him regularly (as policy dictates). By the time he was found deceased, the coroner has reported that he had been dead several hours without notice.

I guess this situation is hitting pretty close to home for me because I spent the first 18 years of my life in that town. Well, that and I know what being on the receiving end of discrimination because of mental illness feels like, even to the point of having staff withhold my medications and becoming very ill. I feel lucky that I have made it to this point, but as a young woman with mental illness, the writing is on the wall.

If this could happen to Keaton Ferris it could happen to me, and that is a truly terrifying notion.

My goal is not to instill fear in anyone, but just to tell stories of my experiences and the experiences of those around me who can’t speak for themselves. Equal rights, proper treatment, and the acknowledgement of our medical needs in times of mental crisis seem like the basic human rights anyone deserves, right?

So where are they?

There was recently a rally in front of the jail where community members gathered to protest the treatment Keaton received, and while I wouldn’t ever suggest that one young man’s torture and death is a positive thing, I am certain that this situation will touch the lives of every person in that town, and I expect people will begin to think differently about mental illness… begin to act differently about it… and that is how the change begins.

You probably aren’t part of this small community, but that doesn’t mean this story wont touch you, or infuriate you, or inspire you to change even one or two small things in your life that will make a difference when we put them all together.

I would encourage anyone who is interested in learning more or helping support our community’s cause of demanding equal rights and treatment for those with mental illness in the criminal justice system can find all news articles, videos, and up to date information at Keatonh2o.com

The Many Faces of Psychosis

My attempts at writing lately have not been particularly fruitful, but I have finally gotten some sleep. Unfortunately, the sleep was also accompanied by several intense conversations with my health care team pointing to ongoing psychosis the past few weeks (at least).

When it comes to psychosis I find myself in something of a pickle. I have not been able to tolerate taking an antipsychotic on a daily basis (because of intense side effects like ultra-rapid weight gain and feeling so fatigued and exhausted I can barely move) so my psychiatrist allows me to take it only in times I am experiencing psychosis. It definitely isn’t the sort of thing I would generally expect is a good idea, however my rapid cycling paired with my inability to tolerate the drugs for more than a few days at a time make it more useful than, say, nothing at all. Many times it seems like one or two days are enough to kick the legs out from under the psychosis before my mood cycles away from it.

The biggest hurdle in this method for me has been being able to identify when the psychosis is present on my own. With a good team looking out for me (my boyfriend included) it becomes easier… but even after meeting this “character” (psychosis) on and off for at least the last 50% of my life I have a hard time picking it out of a crowd.

Meeting psychosis when physically ill or on various medications has left memories that were already too fuzzy around the edges to be able to account for an accurate depiction.

Meeting psychosis when manic has been like stumbling upon a huge party where the music and lights are easily drowning out the words and the intentions of the faces I see around me.

Meeting psychosis when in a mixed episode has been like crawling into a crime novel where I don’t know who I can trust, and psychosis might look just as innocent or guilty as anyone else I stumble upon… leaving me with no distinguishing features.

Finally, meeting psychosis when I feel (or think I feel) stable has been the most confusing thing of all. The encounter is totally unexpected, and I find myself quickly trying to write the ensuing conversations and situations off as simple irrational fear or rapid mood swings happening too fast for me to put a defining stamp on them.

The best indicator I have of psychosis is when pieces of my life, pieces of stories don’t line up the way they ought to. When the memories I have don’t correspond with the half dozen other people who were there at the time. When my boyfriend seems to have me caught in a “lie” but as far as I know, I’ve only spoken the truth.

At any rate, I expect to spend the rest of the day on the couch due to the exhaustion I feel from the rispiridone today, but if that is what is necessary to aid in alleviating the confusion, I am ready to do it.

Mindfulness and Self-Judgment from Another Angle

Thanks for all of your comments regarding mindfulness on that last post, it is a topic that I keep circling back to in my mind because it has been hard for me to grasp the concept.

While some people seem to lean heavily toward the aspect of mindfulness that involves being aware of emotions and their changes, this is the part that I feel completely confident in. Identifying my emotional state is something I have been working on tirelessly for four years now (and I do it 4-12 times per day or as mood shifts happen). Mood charting has allowed me to check in with myself to identify my mood and potential triggers (among other things) so in a self assessment, this is an area where I would give myself five stars.

Having said that, while I have strength in the area regarding identifying my moods and mood swings I am not very good at identifying psychosis. I can sometimes identify this phenomenon when it is slowly gaining momentum (like over a period of days) but when it occurs suddenly and without warning or builds slowly over several weeks it often goes unnoticed by me until I am so irrational I have previously only been able to identify the psychosis after it passes.

This concept (and realization by me) has led to trouble on the second leg of mindfulness; withholding judgment of myself and my emotions.

When it comes to withholding judgment about what emotions I am experiencing, I thought I had that in the bag. For many years I would judge myself harshly and consider myself depraved or inhuman for some of the urges and thoughts I experienced (and still do, some of them daily) but over the last few years I have been able to step back from that and conclude that many (if not most) of these things are a product of my own mind playing tricks on me during periods of depression, mania, or psychosis. I thought that taking the step of realizing that these desires (born of the illness) are not my fault, and that being somewhat burdened by the unwilling desire to do bad things (you know, like homicide) doesn’t mean that is how I am going to live my life and it doesn’t make me a worthless human being.

Having revisited this concept several times in the last few weeks, I couldn’t figure out exactly what was bothering me about mindfulness and why I both seemed to “get it” and not “get it” at the same time. What I stumbled upon the last few days is that even though I am reserving judgment of my emotions in terms of identifying them in a self-deprecating way, I am not withholding judgment completely.

Because of the combination of the psychosis factor and the, well, less than desirable “socially unacceptable” thoughts and feelings I have put up with on a regular basis I have a track record of inexplicably doing things that I wouldn’t normally do. There have been times where, let’s face it, I have not had control of myself or my actions, and during those times I have done some things that have scared the bajeezus out of me.

Things like running away from home, or plotting to murder someone (hello hospital), or attempting to harm very cute, innocent, furry creatures (hello again, hospital). What I have learned from these experiences (and others) is that I shouldn’t trust myself, and that I am capable of doing things that frighten myself and others.

Even though I might be reserving judgment about the origin of these thoughts or actions today, my judgment is taking place in a different way; through fear.

And, well, we all know how that story goes. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, and hate leads to suffering. (Thanks Yoda)

Personally, given my track record and the notion that any one of my swings could suddenly bring the overwhelming, incoherent madness of psychosis, it doesn’t seem unreasonable for me to feel terrified when my mood starts to shift or deteriorate. With every additional layer of emotion my reaction becomes more complicated, I begin jumping to conclusions out of a place of fear, and quickly go tumbling down the rabbit hole.

I find myself in the age old riddle; which came first, the panic attack or the anxiety about having a panic attack?

At this point I am not looking for answers from any of you, just thinking aloud. What I do know is that this fear is something that I need to address, and hopefully with enough applied reasoning (or voodoo) the fear and I can reach some kind of understanding.

No cute, innocent furry creatures were harmed in the making of this post.

Complication Damage Control

After last Friday’s realization (regarding the delusional state I’d been overtaken by) I contacted my psychiatrist. He prescribed me the ODT (orally dissolving tablet) version of Rispiridone as I haven’t been able to stomach lactose recently and lactose is an inactive ingredient in several (if not most) psychiatric drugs.

The lactose acts as a base for the medication to be applied to in most tablets, but usually isn’t used in extended release tablets, capsules, and orally dissolving tablets. I figured this out after a delirious game I played last week called, “why are certain drugs making me vomit?” The result? The vomity drugs were the ones that contained lactose as an inactive ingredient. I was not surprised, since I haven’t been able to tolerate lactose in food for over a month now.

Had this not been an issue, I would have just taken my typical emergency dosage of rispiridone right away… but at the (very slow) rate my stomach has been healing I have been doing everything in my power not to upset it and in conjunction, not further upset my mental state.

By the time my psychiatrist and I got this plan sorted out it was already late afternoon on Friday and I had spent most of the day with my hands clenched on either side of my head. I don’t know if I was hoping to squeeze out the delirium or if I was simply trying to make lemonade out of lemons, but I figured if I could wait until I got the prescription filled everything would be relatively ok.

Of course, that was assuming any of the pharmacies in a five mile radius of my apartment had the ODT version of rispiridone. Not one did. I called them all, and yelled at the technicians who worked at most of them. The best they could do was have it by monday and I didn’t know if I could make it.

I also didn’t know what the alternative would be. Would I have to go to the emergency room again? I’ve already been to the emergency room four times in the last six months, and I was even more concerned that doing that would result in being given more medication I would have no control over, having more bad reactions (triggering uncontrollable vomiting), and starting over (again) in terms of trying to give my stomach a leg up.

I trudged through the weekend by being about 10% mentally present in everything that took place and trapped in my own head, full of a horrible amount of noise, the other 90%.

The noise. Every time I mentioned it I imagined myself with the snarled, green face of the Grinch who stole Christmas.

I have tinitus (ringing in the ears) anyway, but since starting up wellbutrin again the ringing has become exponentially worse. When I feel alright I can kind of ignore it by pushing it to the back of my mind, but when I don’t feel alright and all of that stuff near the back of my mind gets giant neon signs shaped like arrows pointing at it, the ringing joins hands with the other noise (negative thought chatter, obsessive thought loops, and internal radio station playing the first ten seconds of five different songs in a loop in my brain) that takes place when I become agitated and though bad enough on its own, it easily combines with ambient noise to form a wall of noise I can’t get beyond.

When I get trapped like that by the noise, that’s when things get truly dicey. I become very desperate and impulsive, and when I’m already in a suicidal state I fall into red-alert really quickly.

The first thing I did yesterday was contact my psychiatrist and negotiate reducing the wellbutrin dose in hopes of helping the ringing. Today I can say that this change has helped, so I am really feeling relieved in terms of that already.

I have also still been having a significant amount of nausea, dizziness, and blurry vision that did not improve after stopping the seroquel. I am hopeful that this might be linked to the wellbutrin and by lowering the dosage I can get a reduction in these symptoms.

After procuring and taking the ODT rispiridone last night I must say that it was probably the most awful thing (well, medication) I’ve ever tasted and even this morning it made my taste-buds act funny.

Despite that fact I woke up after a night free of nightmares (something that hasn’t happened in several weeks) and even though I hear a little, high-pitched whine, my mind feels considerably less cluttered. I generally consider the typical tablet form of rispiridone to provide relief in the form of a foggy stupidity, but I feel much more alert today than I expected. I can’t say for sure that this is only due to the rispiridone because I am also taking half as much wellbutrin as I was two days ago, but either way I am very glad to get some relief.

The bad side? Welllllllll… my hands did start twitching uncontrollably after imbibing the rispiridone last night, so I need to spend a little more time talking to my healthcare team before I could consider attempting to take it in an every-day fashion (and not as needed as I have been) but just the fact that I have something I can take in an emergency at this point makes me feel significantly less stressed.

These mixed episodes with psychosis have usually come on in waves for me, so even though I feel good about making it through one I am not going to try to fool myself into thinking this is the end of that super fun delusion time. I’m just hoping that if I can continue to be gentle with my stomach and not rock the boat, the waves that come next might be a bit less severe.

My Seroquel Journey & Questioning Reality

Monday I had an appointment with my psychiatrist. It couldn’t have come at a better time because my Seroquel (Quetiapine) journey was taking some odd turns. 

Many of you already know, but it is important to those just beginning to learn about me that I have been actively seeking some form of psychiatric medication to help manage my symptoms of treatment resistant bipolar type 1 (with psychotic features). I’ve tried 13 medications in the last couple years and the result has consistently been either intolerable side effects (intolerable to the point of often requiring immediate medical attention) or no effect at all. To put it bluntly, my experience in this realm is generally much, much different than the norm, and it is important that people know that up-front.

While in a psychiatric inpatient hospitalization in 2011 I was given a large dosage of Seroquel. This did not bode well for me, and I quickly became too dizzy to stand or walk, and too absent minded to be able to speak clearly. Being unable to move or communicate effectively was rather terrifying, and I quickly made it known to the staff (though I can’t remember how for the life of me) that I was not willing to take any more of that particular drug.

Cut to last month. My psychiatrist reminded me that we were extremely limited in what drugs were left for me to try; limited puts it nicely, there was one.

Thinking back, I offered up the suggestion of trying Seroquel (Quetiapine) again. I thought that perhaps if we started with a miniscule dose, I could weave through the unpleasant side effects until they faded and then move up slowly. This is generally the way I tend to opt for trying medications, as a little often goes a long way for me. That, and if it is going to completely kick my ass at the lowest dose, I know immediately without venturing to the point where I’m taking an amount that renders me completely incapacitated or requires the emergency room.

We agreed this would be the plan, and June 1st I began with half of the smallest pill, roughly 12.5 mg.

There was definitely a grogginess that lasted several days, and something akin to confusion and stupidity. I felt a little bit of stomach pain when waking up in the morning, but after an hour or so the pain subsided. After fiver or six days the grogginess and stupidity had worn off, and I increased my dosage.

I began taking 25 mg a week after starting the regimen at 12.5 mg. Things were pretty much the same, with a few minor adjustments. Lack of appetite (something that didn’t bother me too much, I was more worried about having an increased appetite and weight gain), a bit more stomach pain (like stomach cramps) came and went. A week went by, and by the end of it I felt alright.

“Maybe this is going to be easier than I thought!” I said to myself.

So I increased to 37.5 mg. My doctor wanted me to jump to 50 mg, but I didn’t feel comfortable making that leap. Ultimately, I’m glad I erred on the cautious side, because even though the first two or three days went as I expected (after the previous two weeks) the next few days were like a punch in the gut.

Stomach cramping pain all day, every day. Bloody diarrhea. Cramping of the muscles in my face and jaw (where I already have issues with TMJ) making it very difficult for me to chew and eat. Increased frequency in panic attacks. Sinus congestion and headaches from the moment I wake up to the moment I go to bed (headaches like this often trigger severe depression for me). Not a delightful time.

I spent a week with these side effects hoping they might start to fade the way the previous effects did.

They didn’t. They got worse. And the most frightening moment was late one night when I tried flossing my teeth only to have my gums bleed until my mouth filled up with blood.

Needless to say, I was a bit concerned at that point. The Seroquel side effect leaflet does mention something about the possibility of suppressing the number of platelets in the blood (which can cause issues with blood not clotting correctly) and I found myself too terrified to try and floss again.

Thankfully that was a mere 48 hours before my psychiatry appointment. I stuck it out and then went in to see my doctor Monday morning.

When I related this entire account to him, he scoffed… which is quite unlike him. I get somewhat unnerved when people don’t seem to be taking me seriously (at least, in serious situations) and while the younger version of myself might have tried to pick a fight when someone was questioning my validity, the things that have happened the last two years made me stop and think.

Honestly, and I believe 100% that the issue with the blood while flossing happened. Having said that, I know there have been times the last couple years where I have hallucinated/delusioned my way into believing some crazy shit. In this situation I wouldn’t normally second-guess myself, except that there were three things that happened in the last week that make me a little nervous about the validity of my own story.

First, I went straight home and flossed my teeth. They did not bleed the same way they had before, so I could not re-create the situation and confirm my own story. It is possible the issue with my platelets was a temporary side effect, but we don’t know for sure.

Second, I was out for a walk last week with Luna and we were turning a corner to walk down a long stretch of the street. Upon seeing us, an old man on our right picked up his half-bald dog (so it wouldn’t run after Luna) and turned to walk away (off to our right out of view in the grass by the cement wall). When we made it completely around the corner, I turned to the right to smile and wave to the man to say thank you… only he wasn’t there. There was the cement wall we’d just come around met by a tall rock wall that intersected it. There is nowhere he could have gone, there was a grassy patch and a walled-in corner; he simply wasn’t there anymore.

I have never hallucinated a whole human being and an ugly dog before, and I can’t say that is what happened. Frankly, I don’t know what happened, but I feel somewhat suspicious about the whole situation. This suspicion has spread to all other recent situations now, and I am in a place where I don’t know for sure if I even know what I’m talking about.

The third thing that happened was probably even more suspect, there was a period of about 2 hours where every time I closed my eyes I could still see, but it looked as if I was looking out of a mass of spider’s eyes (multiple eyes all jumbled together, somewhat like a kaleidoscope). I noted this as “interesting” and went about my day (which is generally what I do in any situation involving hallucinatory subject matter that I can identify). That, if nothing else, leads me to believe that there is some psychosis happening. I just have trouble knowing when it is there and when it isn’t. The real kicker is that when these things have happened, I haven’t had any of the usual manic or mixed symptoms that generally go with psychosis… that is part of what makes this whole thing so confusing!

I’m waiting to hear from my regular doctor about what kinds of tests we should run, particularly about the blood being where there shouldn’t be any blood. Really I don’t like second-guessing myself and it makes me feel so much more out-of-sorts than most of my usual symptoms. I’ve backed down to 25 mg of Seroquel in the meantime and the side effects have gotten slightly less horrendous, I just wish I had compiled enough data to know if it is effecting my mood or not yet.

Clearly there is a good chance the “antipsychotic” qualities aren’t working, I just don’t know if I should be concerned if the medication might be contributing to psychosis (as opposed to simply not suppressing it). I know antipsychotics shouldn’t trigger psychosis but I’ve been in several situations where the medication I was on triggered or exacerbated my symptoms instead of helping quell them (i.e. benzodiazepines increasing my anxiety). To be fair, my stress level is about quadruple the level it was a month ago, which probably has more weight in this situation.

I don’t quite know why I tend to think things are bound to work out or be straightforward when it comes to trying new medications, especially after the 13 times it hasn’t. Does that make me naive or resilient?

Probably a bit of both.

An Expert’s Insight About Avoiding Mass Shootings

Hey folks! Frankly, I’m a little worn out when it comes to all the talk regarding mental health and violence, but I’ve just found a great article with information from Dr. Jeffrey Swanson, a professor in psychiatry and behavioral sciences at the Duke University School of Medicine. This man is something of an expert when it comes to researching mental health and violence, and I appreciate the information he was willing to share in this article!

I feel like there have been so many theories and ideas about this subject tossed around (really this seems to be a subject everyone has an opinion about) that I find it refreshing to see a point of view from someone who is well educated, understands many aspects about mental health, and is a leader in their field.

Having experienced a mass shooting recently down the street from my apartment here in Seattle I think it is important that we (as a mental health community) are aware of what our individual states and country as a whole plan to do in response to these acts of violence. There is a good chance the changes made will impact us (via healthcare or laws, etc.) as members of the mental health community first (violent or not), and probably as citizens second. I know it can be tough to stay informed with such a raging debate going on, and that’s why I wanted to share this particular piece with you.

You can find the article here, it is worth checking out!

Thanks!