I looked up the symptoms for both and the hypochondriac in me thinks I've got every disorder and disease on the planet..


I know something is up with me because I'm so different from the people who surround me. I'm so sensitive to everything and everyone and I feel things so deeply and intensely. And so quickly. I'm quite moody, especially as of late, and I'm very irritable. I chalked it up to the recent passing of my mother (about a month and a half ago), but it's still weird. I hate the people closest to me sometimes. Not my friends, not strangers, not acquaintances.. Only my absolute best friends, those who are truly close to me and those I truly love and care for.. I genuinely hate them at certain points. Just everything about their existence and I want to cut them out of my life sometimes. All for no reason. I'll also feel bursts of love and appreciation for them, all of which are phases and pass.

I initially thought bipolar disorder because of the intense mood swings, but they happen so frequently; definitely not a week or longer. If I felt any single emotion for a week or longer, I would probably lose my mind. My moods change daily, but for the most part, I've got a pretty decent disposition. I'm usually really content. Ever since the lost of my mother, though, I never really know what I'm going to get when I wake up. Some days are good.. Some days, however, aren't so good.


I know someone who suffers from bipolar disorder and I don't see many similarities. When she's up, she's up. She contacts all of her friends and is there for them, helping them with whatever she can, making all these plans and just seems personable. When she's down, she ignores everyone and doesn't care if you need anything from her, even just some of her time to vent to her. She becomes very selfish and cold and distant for quite a few days, if not weeks at a time.

I'm not like that. I'm always there for my friends. Sometimes I don't answer because I'm busy or I forget to respond, or just have nothing to say or don't feel like talking to you, but I don't drop off the face of the earth or anything like that. And I only really take out my mood swings on those closest to me by just being irritable and touchy. I also read about "manic states", which I don't believe that I have any. There aren't specific times that I'll be more likely to spend money, or engage in destructive behavior, or drink/consume substances.. I drink on occasions, I don't partake in any drug usage (other than my weekly vitamin D pills lol), and I've always spent money in the same patterns. No peaks or valleys.


I'm sorry for writing so much, I just wanted to address everything that I could think of.. I don't have insurance so I can't see a professional any time soon.. And I certainly can't afford paying out of pocket.. I financially support myself now that my mom's passed and I'm still in college. I understand you guys can't actually diagnose me correctly but whatever thoughts you have, feel free to share.. Maybe you went through similar things? Or maybe this is just normal for human beings? Dunno. Thanks ahead of time.

I have been wondering this for a while now. Ever since I was little, my Mom tried to fit in with her boy friend's life style. The guy could have been a raging alchoholic, who was a complete ass(most of them were) and she would stay with him, no matter what. Last year, I told my mom that my step brother had been sexually abusing me for a little over two years. When I told her, she at first seemed shocked and had called him in the room with my step dad. They kicked him out of the house for two days; during those two days, my mom didn't talk to me, yet alone speak to me. She began making me feel guilty for getting in trouble, and even tried bribing with my graduation dress for my 8th grade ceremony. I eventually gave in, and they moved him back in. I was forced to live with him for six months, until I ran away to my dad's house. The thing that I have had trouble coping with is how she could have just turned away from me. It hurts so much. I would have maybe understood if she was a dad, since they don't really go through the pregnancy and the pain mothers feel. I have just have had the hardest time grasping how my mom could have just left me like that. She told I could tell her anything. Why would she have done that? I'd like to assume she just has some mental illness that she had never told me about, but maybe she just didn't care what happened to me.

I am an 18 yrs old female. I want to have a real relationship, but everytime i get the chance the same thing happens. We hang out for a bit, every thing is great we get to know each other and all that gooey mushy stuff, then as soon as we have sex I lose interest in the guy. and its not like the sex is horrible i mean there was one or two times but most of the time its f-ing great. regardless i lose interest and then i want nothing to do with the guy. sometimes we try and be friends but it just becomes awkward. whats wrong with me?? i try to have feelings but they are none exsitent, why is tht? i am not a promiscous person at all, I havent had sex in forever because of this (6 months and counting).Its hard for me to actually express my feelings. My ex told me i was a robot cold and emotionless. i would just like some opinions on this whole situation. I discussed this with some close friends and they tld me i should see a therapist because i might be a psychopath.

Rightio, guys! Welcome to my world! It's great in here, albeit the landscapes may appear a little cerebral and neurotic sometimes. I lead the fine young life of an Irish student. Yes, student life is... well, chaotic. Effective organisation is always precluded by the necessities of student life (i.e. sleeping erratic hours, inconsistently meeting inconsistent deadlines, and an all-round simultaneous lack of planning and spontaneity). I am doing what I love (that's binge-reading on metaphysics and critical theory and writing highfalutin essays on it all), and even if it doesn't make me happy, that's okay, because I'm doing the right thing with my life right now. Clarity helps.

Happiness (whatever it is) is a thoroughly overused term these days. Why on earth should I be happy just because I have everything and my life is pretty darn good?! 'Erm... perhaps because you have everything and your life is pretty darn good...?' This is called circular reasoning, a logical fallacy. In fact, the entire pursuit of happiness in itself is both illogical and pointless. For a fact, nothing makes me happy. Ought I be stricken now by an avalanche of guilt? Not really. It's okay to feel whatever you feel and it is absolutely ridiculous to feel what someone else (or society, in fact) tells you to feel, because that's even more absurd that not feeling good, when life's good. In fact, the pursuit of happiness makes people depressed, because it's cheating logic and breaking down the faculties we rely on to make clear distinctions between things!

I like my life. I don't like my depression. I live life with depression. I do not live a depressed life. When I am really depressed I am not living my life, but this has nothing to do with my life and everything to do with my depression. It is important when I am very depressed to never wish my depression to end, because this would mean ending my life. And I like my life. It is much more likable than my depression. It only makes sense to say, then, that I like my life more than I can ever dislike my depression, because depression requires life in order to exist and wishing my life to end because it will end my depression is completely absurd, because it denies the origin of depression, which is not life, but absurdity. Yes, depression is absurd, but life is not and in order to affirm what is true and meaningful (i.e. the fact that depression is absurd) we must affirm life.

Of course, it may appear to be problematic when philosophers say that life is absurd and melancholia is a natural reaction to the absurdity of life. This may be true (and if it is it becomes difficult to distinguish depression from life), but even these philosophers find a way of affirming life, even if only in spite. For Camus, absurdity must be affirmed because our lucidity is the basis of all that we have. According to him, we must continue to push the boulder up the hill knowing it will fall back down, because acknowledging the pointlessness of this task liberates us to accept it. For Kierkegaard, it is defiance: rejection of help or escape which gives us strength to be our own and endure. For Nietzsche, life, suffering and all the tragedy in the world must be relished in order to rise above the adversity of slavery and become masters of ourselves through strength and creativity.

From what I have been told, I was talking and walking by 9 months old. Perhaps it is an exaggeration, but I can attest to the ease I have experienced in school, with dealing with problems, and assessing the “right” behavior in situations.

I have had one imaginary friend, from what I can remember, since I was about two years old. I remember when he first knocked on the door, a back door with a mud room in my house, and I let him in. I would tease my Dad that he was my boy friend. He kept me wonderful company and was an enlightening, safe harbor. I remember another time when someone entered through this same door. I remember that I was handed a stuffed animal by this man, but I cannot recall any more.

When I was seven, I remember feeling sure that I could survive on my own, if only my parents would let me alone. In kindergarten, I could read chapter books and would forge my mother’s signature on the homework list each week. I remember wanting the independence from my mother to moderate my own life.

My favorite thing to do at that time was read. I had a children’s encyclopedia and learned about sexual reproduction in this fashion. I discovered an obsession with looking at Michael Angelo’s “David” sculpture. I would sit and look at it for different durations each day.

Between seven and nine, my parents split up (though, I had suspected it for over a year). At this time I began having very sexual, very vivid dreams. One dream I remember was of my self in a hotel room, seducing a much older, ugly man. I believe between six and seven I was sexually abused again, by the same close friend of my family that had been in my life much earlier, and that I had let into my home through the mud room door. I cannot remember it happening, but I have returned to a certain event when I remember I was alone with this person, and there are blank spots in my memory.

I started touching my self with my dolls or stuffed animals around this time, I don’t really understand why. I would “tell” my sister’s fortune by looking into my crystal ball. Around the same time I stopped feeling normal. When I saw myself in the mirror, I felt an intense, unnatural feeling. It was almost disgust. It increased when I had on feminine clothing. I still feel it, sometimes seemingly random and sometimes by noticeable triggers, to this day.

When I was nine, I realized that my father was not scary. I saw that he would raise his voice to intimidate me- and, I saw that it was just that- and that I was capable of it too. This led me to a strange relationship with aggression. I began to “dominate” my siblings, feel an anger that was confusing and overwhelming. I felt as if something in me was red fire hot, and I had no control over it, nor the ability to stop it, nor the knowledge of how it started. I felt like a victim while I victimized other people. And still, though less frequently and with more control to mask it, I have this sensation of being a puppet. At this time I also began trying to study witch craft and wanted to be a vampire. I would mediate and attempt to make spells.

By the time I was eleven, I was not only participating in on-line sex and wishing to be kissed by a boy at school, but I was finding attendance at school more difficult, as well as having increased bouts with anxiety and depression. This only worsened as I got older. And by fourteen, I was full blown suicidal. My parents attempted to get me help, but the doctors, therapists, teachers, and medication were so easily manipulated that no one could touch me.

I would get into these crazed, raging fits of frustration and aggression. I would yell, scream, shake, cry, weep, sob; I was frightening. I started “cutting” which was mostly scratching. I started messing around with older guys. I started lying and going out and trying to drink/party as much as possible. When my father would have a chance to sit and talk to me, he would try to hug me, but I would yell insults until he would give up. I remember ...

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