I have the ability to go on and on while telling a story from my life, yet attempting to introduce myself by condensing my essence into a few hundred works feels like an impossible task.

I’m not a stranger to the blogging world. I wrote on a blog dedicated to documenting my adventures while navigating the US healthcare systems (this blog fell to the wayside since I think I exhausted every ‘original’ idea I had related to that topic). I became ill with a disabling autoimmune disease approximately 10 years ago that affects almost all of my body systems.

I also have Bipolar Disorder that was misdiagnosed as Major Depressive Disorder when I was 10 years old after spending a year in a deep depression. I was prescribed Prozac, which sent me pinging off of the walls and eventually turned to agitation that I turned inward to attempt suicide.

I survived.

After I left home at age 17, I largely ignored the beast looming in my brain. I had ‘episodes’ all throughout my 20’s and early 30’s, mostly depression, but occasionally what I now know to be hypo/mania. I didn’t question any of it, because that’s all I knew. For me, it was normal.

My disorder leveled up when I was 35, after having been prescribed an anti-depressant that would hopefully help with my neuropathic pain and improve my mood. I entered a mixed-manic state and would soon make another attempt on my life.

I survived.

Two weeks later, I was “officially” diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder and promptly started on a mood stabilizer and an antipsychotic. There was a peaceful stillness in my mind that I don’t think I had ever experienced prior. After 20 years of being prescribed the wrong medication, it was like the light had been switched on. I was free to use my brain for things other than grinding myself into the ground.

When I had my lithium level and kidney function checked at a follow-up appointment, it was determined that I needed to stop lithium due to toxicity. It had damaged my kidneys that were already struggling. Without the lithium, I took a turn for the worse. I decided to stop taking all of my meds, and wandered off to die.

Again, I survived.

According to my new therapist, I’ve been rapid cycling for approximately 7 months and I’m beginning to understand this is no longer something I can manage without medication if I wish to stay on this planet. I think everyone who has this diagnosis initially rails against it, or denies it. I’m no exception. I still question my diagnosis and often don’t believe I’m ill.

Who am I besides a nutty sick person? I’m an avid reader – I love to read. I play a little guitar and a lot of Korean MMORPGs. I went to college for graphic design but switched to biology with a pre-med track. I hope to some day complete my education in medical anthropology, though that’s likely a pipe dream. I don’t believe in God (or gods) but I do believe that life is a miraculous thing. I think about the size of the Universe, the age of the planet, and the odds of being alive as a human. We’ve existed for a nanosecond in the grand scheme, yet we exist and that’s really something.

Sometimes I’d rather be a cockroach.

This blog is to document my narrative as I roll with the punches and repetitiously face-plant into self-created walls. Some content may be extremely triggering to sensitive individuals as suicide ideation is a prevalent theme in my life currently.

With that said, welcome to the madhouse!