Thank you & Lamictal Day 1

First of all, thank you all for the love on my last post. I was feeling incredibly overwhelmed. I’m starting to understand that this is an illness that I have to live with for the rest of my life. I have to accept that. And I have to take the steps to treat it.

One of the first steps is to let others help me. I’ve always been independent and am not very good at asking for help. But I’m doing just that. I have a team of medical professionals who are looking out for me. I have an amazing support system of loved ones who care about me.  And I have this community, which I am very grateful for. I’m lucky.

Today I started 25 mg of Lamictal. I don’t want to go on Lithium so I talked to my pdoc and we decided to give Lamictal a try. I will be on 25 mg for two weeks then titrate up to 50 mg, eventually reaching the therapeutic dose of 200mg. I’m going to use this blog to document my lamictal journey. Perhaps it can help others :-). [I’d like to point out that this is only medication I’m on currently. I have adderall but my pdoc suggested I cut it out since it was probably contributing to my mood swings.]

Honestly, since it’s the first day, I wasn’t expecting much. And perhaps what I’m about to say is just a placebo effect  but here it goes anyway…

-I noticed that everything was more vivid and brighter. Sharper.

I did not feel sad today, for the first time in weeks. 

-My anger was under control.

-I did not swing from one emotional roller coaster to the next.

-I feel calm and alert.

No side effects.

So far so good. Here’s to day 1!


My cat is the only reason I haven’t killed myself.

Sad but true.

I guess it’s been a while.

I wish I could say a lot has happened, but it hasn’t.  I must admit the nothingness was quite welcome. I was so…stable. 

I felt like a normal human being. My moods were somewhat hypomanic, but not depressive. I was productive. I started working out again. Eating right. Seeing a therapist weekly and dealing with my shit. Laughing. Smiling. Washing my hair and wearing sun dresses. The past few weeks were blissful.

I questioned my bipolar diagnosis. They were all wrong! They screwed up with me. I was just going through something…but it wasn’t bipolar! I don’t need any meds! Look, I’m normal. I don’t need help.

And then the wave hit and it all fell a part.

This is the most depressed I’ve been in about a month. I feel like an idiot for thinking that this was something I could just get over.

In reality, I haven’t truly accepted my diagnosis.

I saw the psychiatrist today and he said he feels that I am closer to bipolar I than II. He wants to put me on Lithium. (I’m currently on no meds.)

I had rationalized, up to that point, that being bipolar II was “less crazy” than bipolar I. I was okay with meds, long as it was Lamictal/ something mild. My session with the MD threw me for a loop.

I don’t know what to think. He advised me to get a second opinion but silly me, I thought HE WAS THE SECOND OPINION! (My therapist/MD, who originally diagnosed me being the first).

Im so sick of this. I don’t want to try. I don’t think I can keep going. I don’t want to go through life like this anymore. I can’t accept this as my future.

It’s funny. I’m not even sad right now.

I’m numb.

Is this normal?

I’ve been asking myself that question a lot lately.

Like right now, I have the urge to go the city and see my favorite DJ play this weekend. I don’t have tickets, people to go with or a place to stay. But I figured those things will just work themselves out. I mean, what else do I have going on this Saturday?

Am I being impulsive? Am I starting to become hypomanic? Or…am I just a gal excited about seeing her favorite artist play?


This is what depression looks like…

One of the best articles I’ve read in a long time [via Huffington Post ].

I want you to picture a person with depression. Are you seeing the dark bedroom, filthy sweatpants, empty eyes, poor health and general lack of prosperity?

You know what I see when I picture depression? A blonde, blue-eyed teenage girl. She gets awesome grades, loves to paint, go to football games, drink Starbucks, Instagram and giggle with her friends. She can quote Harry Potter, obsesses over makeup tutorials and cannot wait for college. She looks back at me every morning in the mirror.

The worst part of a depressive episode is when someone asks questions like “Why?” “What happened?” or “Was someone mean to you?” Sometimes, there is an antecedent, but more often than not, depression just hits you. It feels like riding a bike, and in the blink of an eye, you’re trying to pedal through quicksand with no tires. Moreover, it is almost impossible to explain, so trying to answer these questions makes you feel like even more of a failure. It can be frustrating as a friend or family member to read this — advice is much easier to give when there is a definitive issue at hand. The best thing you can do when you are trying to help someone with depression is to simply be there.

Read the rest of the article here.

On being selfish.

Having a mental illness and wanting to focus on recovery/ healing makes me feel so…selfish.

I feel bad canceling commitments, saying “no”, and staying away from people I used to be close to.

But what other choice do I have?

For the first time in my life, I need to focus on me. My healing. My future. I need to make choices that won’t lead to extra stressors..because for my bipolar brain, these extra stressors may lead to depression or hypomania.

I have to say no to helping others because I need to help myself first. I have to stay away from those that bring me down, regardless of how “close” we used to be. I simply cannot go out and drink all night anymore. I simply cannot go dancing till 4 a.m. I need to get good sleep, eat right and exercise.

I have to disappoint and possibly hurt people in order to get better. And that terrifies me.  But I’m also at a point where my mental health means more. I know I can never fully “recover”, but I can get pretty damn close.

I’m worth it.

Well last night was fun.

I woke up last night around 11 pm, buzzing with energy. I knew that I simply could not go back to bed. So I didn’t. I baked, I cleaned, did laundry, answered work emails. And I also wrote some emails…at 3:30 am. One was to my best friend, telling her about my diagnosis (she still hasn’t responded yet and that’s making me quite anxious/ sad). The other was to my therapist, haha… needless to say, he ask why the heck I was up so late and if I was okay.

I told him I was, and I truly am. I enjoy hypomania and this latest episode has been quite prolific and productive. My co-workers certainly enjoyed the baked goods I brought them. One of them also asked if I was manic as a joke…little do they know!

During times like these, it feels good to have a secret thats just mine. Does that make any sense?

Anyway, I’ve been up for almost 24 hours at this point. I’ve barely eaten. There is a big snow storm coming and I offered one of my co-workers who lives far away my guest room. I probably shouldn’t have done that…

I know that I need good quality sleep tonight and food.

So that’s what I’m going to focus on at the moment. I’m not sure if the hypomania will calm down tonight. I sure as hell would rather NOT be up for another night. But who knows. I’ll let it run it’s course. This is just me, it’s a part of who I am. I’m slowly learning to be okay with it. 🙂