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Happy new year to everyone. Thanks to all for joining me for a wonderful year of information, interaction and debate. I have learned a lot and I hope you have too. But in case you missed it, here are the top ten articles people were reading from Breaking Bipolar last year:
Lots of people take the last week of the year to reflect on the past and to look ahead to a new year where things are going to be different, dammit.   Those of you who have bipolar depression with a soupcon of borderline personality disorder – like me – might even spend a day alone fixating on what they did wrong this year. And, if you’re anything like me, relationships probably take up the majority of your obsession time.
I've been ruminating my return to the workforce for the past few months, and have made a decision--I will be returning to work, but not in the same capacity. After taking required coursework necessary to supplement my degree, I plan to teach. I've been substitute teaching in our public school district since November, giving me an opportunity to "try on" grade levels and subjects. Because of my experiences with Bob (my son diagnosed with bipolar disorder and ADHD), I've been told I should teach special ed. I've been told I'd be great with special ed. I just don't think I want to teach special ed.
New Year's is not such a bad time. It's about looking back and learning, I think. We can look back over the year and determine why we did what we did and what it is we should do about it. It's about new beginnings, fresh beginnings, a clean slate. All of that is lovely really. But with all that comes the dreaded New Year's resolution - the thing we say, hand to heart, that we will endeavour to do in the following year. But really, these resolutions have a negative impact on the mentally ill.
It’s cocktail season. And that means millions will drink too much, including people who suffer from depression. While having a drink can relieve anxiety—at least temporarily—abuse of alcohol can make us even more depressed. And though pop culture paints a decidedly different picture, alcohol is actually a depressant. It’s not a stimulant.
This blog, Recovering from Mental Illness, allows me to explore many different topics. This post, "Visualizing Mental Illness" might be a bit tough to delve into, but I believe it's an important, albeit confusing, issue. Let's give it a fair shot.
There was a recent study done at the University of Kentucky that looked at what trait would make people more aggressive when drunk than when they are sober. It is important to look at the study data as well as the protocols to be able to analyze the study, its findings and implications.
My little boys' faces lit up each Christmas morning when they saw proof of Santa's handiwork. Those memories are some of my favorites, but I can't relive the entire Christmas morning memory without including my ex-husband's scathing words "Where the hell did we get this kind of money?!"...and right there, the warm memory turns cold. During Christmas of 1992, I was fortunate to visit the Moulin Rouge - the hang out of one of my favorite artists, Henri Toulouse-Lautrec. Although I was going for the art, most of the tour group went for the show consisting of countless scantily clad women - a show I was uncomfortable with attending but thought it worth it to soak in the call-girl atmosphere Henri so enjoyed in his day. As I buttoned my gorgeous purple pant-suit, my husband said, "Your butt is getting wide."
Many thanks to everyone who has read and commented here at Treating Anxiety over the past 18 months. This is my final post so Happy Holidays. Here’s hoping 2012 brings us peace, however small the moments in which it's found. For all the closeness the Christmas period purports to bring into our lives it can also come with a dose of loneliness, the pang of isolation, or the strange unknowing of the world that is disconnection or dissociation. To counter that sort of thing I'll be participating in a mindfulness exercise of a global scale: A River of Stones. 
I'd like to take this opportunity to be the 93,347th person to say "I'm so glad the holidays are over." Because I am. For a multitude of reasons.

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Tali
I look forward to being unconscious for 4-6 hours every night (if I'm lucky). I don't dream. It's the only relief I have. I used to enjoy video games, but my husband hated me playing them so I gave them up. I had my own business but my husband told me I had to stop, so I did. He walks out on me whenever I don't do what he wants. He's allowed to have hobbies and I better not complain, just take care of the kids. My whole life had to be given up because it suits him and I've become nothing more than a maid and a babysitter. I love my kids but I just don't think I can take him finding some new thing to take away every September when he starts ignoring all of us because of the fair he acts in every year that time. He straight out told me this year he loves fair more than me. I don't have anything left to try for, I'm not a young lady anymore. I don't want to die, but I don't want to live...live...survive anymore. I doubt what I've been doing can be qualified as living. Thing is the rest of the year he's good to us. But somehow it's always me, I'm the problem, he just turns it around. Always carry on, carried on before, like a machine. This time I don't have it in me. I swear if he says one more time to me if doesn't get to do one of his many hobbies he'll get depressed and kill himself I'm just going to lose it. He doesn't care what I've been carrying these past 12 years. Doubt he noticed. He didn't notice when he left for fair with me fresh out of abdominal surgery to take care of a newborn, 1 year old, and 3 kids under 10. Apparently it interfered with him so much he was annoyed with me for not being fully healed from it after only one week. Not sure who told him people heal from major surgery in a week, but whatever. I doubt he even notices unless it inconveniences him, but he'll only get mad if it does. I wish I had some helpful or inspiring words, but I don't. I'm just existing with no reason anymore. I had reasons before, but they don't make sense anymore. I want to cry, but even that is too much effort.
Roxie S. Mitchell
Exactly what I needed to read right now. After all, I've grown up being abused and then screamed at for crying afterwards, so this article is very insightful because it helps us realize that crying is actually a normal part of being a human. Thank you for this!
Sandy G.
To Kelly Torbitz-Your parents punished you properly by making you wear the diaper and rubberpants.As a mom,i have heard of older girls being punished with diapers and rubberpants and i think it helps shape them up.The diapers and rubberpants are not only worn for punishment,but also to make girls feel cute and little girlish.
Word Warrior Mama
On the other hand . . .

I read this book many years ago, just as I was entering the turmoil of remembering, questioning and doubting myself all the way (as I'd been covertly taught over a lifetime). I happened to mention to my two sisters one day, "This is so strange but I've been diagnosed with PTSD." Both my sisters surprised me by responding, "Me too."

THEN I happened upon an old book manuscript that my now deceased father had written (not published), wherein the protagonist was obviously based upon himself and he rapes his "fiancee," who had my unusual name. Yes, truly.

Then I made myself look at the peculiar memory I always had where he violently threatened me but somehow I had never been able to recall what came before or after the episode. I had to admit that was a bit strange.

The pressures and powers to forget sexual abuse are great, both in family and society. In fact, I've come to the sad conclusion that the vast majority of survivors never really deal with their childhood wounds (a neglect for which there are always repercussions).

To critique an encouragement of people trusting their intuition in such matters is really getting the prescription dangerously wrong.
Christina
I hear your voices. Can you please help me let me know what medication you’re on. You could save lives with this information. My email is christinacrawford555@hotmail.com
Thanks!