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A reader asks "How do I stop myself from making social gaffes?" Good question. I've got three solutions for you.
Being diagnosed as bipolar is a scary thing. It can happen in a number of ways, but if you’re like most of us, you probably didn’t know what was wrong for a long time, then you were misdiagnosed and then sometime later, you got the moniker of “bipolar”. Few of us go right from episode to bipolar diagnosis. But regardless of how you got here, what do you do next?
Family-Based Maudsley Therapy Is Not a Do-It-Yourself Approach There is a mistaken idea out there that Maudsley treatment for eating disorders is something parents can just decide to do without professional support. While I know families who do take on the re-feeding (weight restoration) responsibilities, I think it is important to keep in mind that this is only one part of the approach, and why it works well for so many families.
Recently, someone directed me to this article on parents who give up custody to get help for their mentally ill children. It hits hard now, as I live in a state that is about to vote on its own renunciation of the so-called "Obamacare" plan. We celebrate people living with deadly diseases and chronic conditions, and great strides are being made toward prolonging and improving their lives. But we still vilify people who live with psychiatric illnesses? Am I the only person who thinks this is a problem?
If you struggle with ADHD and insomnia, then you may be able to relate to my pain. I'm a raving night zombie, but I've come up with a plan to help me break the chain. Now, if only I would follow it.
When most of us were young we learned that life isn’t fair. Yes, that boy got a bigger slice of cake than you. Yes, that girl gets better grades than you even though she doesn’t study. Yes, that’s boy’s imaginary friend’s clothes are nicer than yours. Life isn’t fair. But when I was diagnosed with bipolar at 20, my definition of “unfair” had to be reviewed.
Maybe because I was once diagnosed with minimal brain dysfunction, I don’t find the newer label of ADHD so bad. MBD sounds like something the cast of Monty Python and the Flying Circus came up with. ADHD on the other hand sounds somewhat more descriptive and less post lobotomy-ish. This is why I was so surprised to encounter somebody yesterday so embarrassed by the ADHD label, they censored me. Is someone else's ADHD self-stigma something I need to better understand?
It's Summertime, and the livin’s...easy? Maybe not. It used to be, until I became the parent of a school-aged "MI" child.
Recognizing When The Patient - Or the Team - Isn't In Control Because I'm so big on getting parents to get engaged and be empowered to support an eating disorder patient to full recovery, it is hard to talk about the other side of this: letting go. But that is part of the picture, too.
Amanda_HP
Media images can be very powerful. When we see something, especially when it's "based on a true story," our mind removes the words "based on a" and we are left with "true story;" as if what we are seeing on the screen is the absolute truth. In fact, the "based on" means it's an adaptation of a story with a lot of "Hollywood" thrown in to keep you interested.

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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!