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Seroquel was the 5th grossing drug in 2009, with revenue of $4.2 billion. That’s more money than any pain-killer, antidepressant or erectile dysfunction medication. And my guess is that many of you reading this right now, are on it.
And I also guess almost none of you have taken the time to read the prescribing information on Seroquel.
One challenge of dissociative living is task management. Dissociation creates fissures in consciousness that make the demands of daily life extremely difficult to meet. It's important that I get my son to swimming lessons on time. Showing up for psychiatric appointments is imperative. Paying bills is not optional. But I cannot expect my dissociative mind to sustain awareness of all my obligations throughout many alter states. Instead, I rely on external tools to remember for me.
On Monday, I talked about what to do if you’ve just been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and if you’ve read that piece then you know, I recommended a lot of breathing and thinking. I notably did not suggest decision-making.
Well, you can’t live in a yoga studio forever.
I call it DSM Scrabble because lots of people don't fit neatly into the categories doctors put them in. Diagnoses are convenient boxes but rarely entirely accurate, and certainly not the full picture.
It felt like I'd won the lottery the first time someone put an actual name to my experience of anxiety. My shrink knew all these catchy phrases that described where I was: Maybe she had connections? Maybe she could give me courage, a heart, a brain?
One aspect of hyperfocus in ADHD that I've not heard mentioned much is the inability to shift gears, or in other words, adapt to the flow when things change. You would think that an adult with ADHD would have spontaneity in the bag, but that golden attribute of ADHD impulsiveness is hampered when ADHD's hyperfocus mode is engaged.
I recently wrote about The Mistake of Settling in a Relationship and how, many times, people make a huge relationship mistake by settling for "Mr. Okay" instead of "Mr. Right." In that post, I also laid out the signs you are settling for the wrong person and reasons why people settle.
After receiving several reader comments, I want to discuss a related aspect in this video.
Well, I know you're not doing it for the money, the fame, or for an easy ride. Treating eating disorders is tough, and I admire those who take this up as a profession SO MUCH.
The summer before Bob started kindergarten, I signed him up for teeball.
I’m still not sure what I was thinking. I’m not a sports fan and have always refuted the argument kids need involvement in team sports to be fulfilled. I guess there was something about the image of Bob in a tiny uniform that must have persuaded me. Whatever it was, we found ourselves on a team.
The two words a parent dreads to hear each summer from the lips of their child is: “I’m bored.” After the novelty of summer has worn off and the swimming pool has lost its appeal, boredom has a way of settling into your home like an unwelcome house guest.
Some parents try to keep boredom at bay by scheduling and filling every single block of time with a variety of play dates, day camps, and music lessons. While a bit of structure is a good thing, I wonder what ever happened to the long, lazy summer days of childhoods past.
Sometimes I'd wake up in the morning, wondering how the bed could hold the weight of it all. Before opening my eyes, the fear that I might experience anxiety today overwhelmed me. I felt stuck and stupid for not knowing how not to be afraid. I struggled with seemingly simple things like going to the store because those things seemed like asking for trouble.
I'd fret and fidget, and do just about anything to avoid thinking about next time. That's anticipatory anxiety, and it's common to most every single person with an anxiety disorder.
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.
Thanks!