I often wish that I would get hit by a car or by a stray bullet that take so many of the other innocent lives in this gun-ridden city. A girl can dream. I'm getting so tired of the fight, I can hardly bear it anymore. It wears me down in ways I can't even describe. On a cognitive level I know that my thoughts and feelings are symptoms of a mental disease, but it all feels so real. It *is* real. It overwhelms me to think that this is what it's going to be for the rest of my life. I'll have periods of time--weeks, months even when I feel like a normal person. And then there's this, the sh*t that's been invading my brain on and off every few days or for weeks now. It's the days like this that I can't live through. This is why I drank and this is why I used drugs. No human being should be subjected to this much unwarranted pain. It's the loneliness that kills me. One can choose to be alone--no one chooses to be lonely. For some reason I've been living on peanut M&Ms, coffee, cigarettes, and kratom for about a week now. I'm up to two packs a day now. I don't think I've smoked this heavily in my life, and the next jackass to tell me I'm too pretty to be smoking is getting kicked in the kneecaps. Who cares? Who honestly f*cking cares? Looks are nothing but makeup, hair volumizer, and a flat iron, and what's the point of any of it anyway? I only do it out of insecurity, fear of rejection, and a desire to be loved. That's f*cking it. Looks can be manipulated. Whoever and whatever you are on the inside--you're stuck with that forever. And if this kind of internal agony is what I'm stuck with for the rest of my life, then I'm not going to make it much longer. Everyone in my life is too busy and selfish to give a sh*t anyhow.

It turns out that the following two things have been confirmed to be true: 1) Kratom is, indeed, habit-forming and with prolonged use will ultimately lead to something very closely resembling a heroin withdrawal, and 2) I am humanly incapable of making pancakes without burning them. I'm no longer just a Bipolar/ADHD recovering alcoholic and drug addict, I'm also a kratom junkie who burns pancakes. Awesome. I used to wonder why I'm 30 and unmarried, and I now know the answer. Burnt pancakes. (Just kidding.)

See, here's the bitch of the situation: nobody knows anything about this kratom crap. For those who aren't familiar, kratom is a plant grown in southeast Asia that produces a euphoria very similar to Vicodin or heroin. For years, users and head shop owners alike have been saying that it's non-addictive, harmless, and that one cannot become physically dependent on it. Not a single of these statements is true. It can be used to wean off of heroin, vicodin, and other opiods, but you're essentially switching out one for the other. I've been using off and on for about five years, and ever since June it's been more on than off. For the past several of those months it's been every day, because I now get sick if I don't have it. I remember it clear as day. I woke up one morning feeling what felt very, very similar to dope sickness. When I put two and two together I thought, "This cannot POSSIBLY be happening." I did not conquer both heroin and alcohol dependence just to give in to this. I can get pretty depressed as it is, but this just makes it worse. And I'm reminded of it every day because I have to take it every few hours or I start to get sick. I started looking at various forums online and I'm not the only one. There are thousands of people addicted to this and no one really knows anything about it. Researchers have been studying alcohol and drugs for years, decades even. This is hopeless, I'm kind of at a loss. I have no idea how to fight this except to treat it like a heroin withdrawal and bear the three days of hell. I swore to myself that I would never be enslaved by a substance again. I've been sober, clean off drugs and alcohol (except for psychiatric medication) for going on five months now. Am I not sober anymore? What do I do? I'm confused, lonely, and I feel like a sorry excuse for a person. Again. Classes start in a week and I really don't want to be taking this stuff in the bathroom between classes for another term. Just a terrible feeling. If anyone out there has experience with kratom, knows how to fight this, or is just willing to talk, please reach out. Please. I'm so tired of being alone on this.

The boyfriend has been the best thing that has happened to me in a long time. He has done a complete 180 degree turn around. I can't blame him, really. When you live your life as an addict, hurt and mistrust are some of the few truths you know in life. Think about it. You've ostracized yourself from family and true friends, and the only people with which you associate yourself or even have any contact at all are dears, stealers, and other addicts. There's no love or trust i addiction. You can't even trust yourself. What have finally allowed ourselves to love, and it's fantastic. Love can be an addiction in and of itself, when it's the real thing. I'm grateful to have him in my life. I just hit three months of sobriety and now I'm starting step four. (Shoot me.) Just finished my first semester of graduate school--two As and a B. That sh*t is hard as hell, but I'll take it. I'm not really good at anything, but I've always been good at school. It's all I have left to fix my life. I literally have nothing to show for myself but long list of psychiatric records, a marginal stage acting resume, and a string of broken relationships. I had to take Psychopathology this semester for school. I did a huge project/presentation for a class that was worth 35% of my grade. My topic was dual diagnosis. (Dual diagnosis is the state of having two co-occurring mental illnesses, one of which is alcoholism or addiction.) The psychiatric community knows how to treat mental illness. Likewise, they know how to treat substance abuse. Combine the two, and it's a whole new ballgame. Research is in its infancy and the patients being treated just stick together and Now for the fun part. Last Saturday around 7:00 in the morning I woke up to the boyfriend yelling my name over and over, saying that I was shaking the bed so hard that I woke him up. Note: I ran out of Klonopin a week prior and I was seeing my psychiatrist in a matter of days. I figured I had been on the stuff so long that it would still be in my system by the time I got it refilled. I was sorely mistaken.) That was seizure #1. Boyfriend decided to make a hearty breakfast while I called my mom. I had been dealing with a head cold for the past several days so she figured it was fever-related. She told me to take Ibuprofen (which I was out of ) and take my morning dose of Trileptal (my mood stabilizer that is also an anti-convulsant, which I happened to be out of as well.) Boyfriend immediately gets in the car and goes to Walgreens to pick up both the Trileptal and the Ibuprofen, as I needed authorization for the Klonopin. Upon his arrival I immediately took the necessary pills and tried to put some food and me. After that whole extravaganza of insanity we laid down together on the couch to relax for a bit. After falling asleep in only a matter of minutes we both decided to go back to bed. I got up to refill a glass of water in the bathroom and don't remember the next 20 minutes, but the following is what I was told by those who were conscious. Boyfriend head the glass break and immediately shot out of bed. Grand mal seizure #2 lasted for about ten minutes, during which time he called the paramedics. I regained consciousness on the bathroom floor to the boyfriend holding my iPhone in my face. He kept saying over and over, "Honey, what's the code? You have to remember the code. We have to call your mom. What's the code, babe?" I couldn't remember my lock code for the life of me but I was able to regurgitate my mom's cell phone number, so boyfriend called from his phone. In a matter of seconds these two paramedics came and strapped me onto one of those stretchers there you're sitting down in a way. Boyfriend came with me in the ambulance and held my hand, I just could't stop crying or shaking, mostly from Chicago's unforgiving cold. He stayed in the ER with me and the ER doctor had to ask if I had been drinking just by virtue of my medical record. I hadn't, which was eventually evidenced by...

[ Continued ]

Really? That's what he's going with?

Like myself, Michael is an alcoholic and a drug addict in recovery. He is coming up on 18 months of sobriety, but he's one of those rounder types. You know those people who go around saying they have a year after they hit the ten-month mark? He's been saying he has 18 months for the past two. Side note: having a certain amount of sobriety doesn't mean that you've changed, grown, or done any work on yourself whatsoever. All that means is that you haven't picked up a drink or a drug. Let's just get that out there right now.

He's very selfish, and now that I've started graduate school (in the field of psychology) he is upset that I don't have as much time for him. He also is not formally educated in any way and I'm pretty sure that that insecurity plays a part in this. I basically broke up with me because he isn't getting enough attention. I, of course, did not react well, and his response was to call me a crazy bipolar b*tch. Whys is that okay? Why is mental illness considered to be an acceptable form of ammunition? I've had bipolar disorder thrown in my face my entire adult life, and it hurts every time. Every. Single. Time. If you truly love someone, how could you possible use their pain against them, as if it was a choice to become mentally ill? (On top of it, there's this PTSD crap I'm trying to work through, and he's woefully insensitive to that issue as well.) Where do I find these jackasses? I want to just be loved in entirety, for who I am, good and bad. It's hard enough to open up about my mental illness, and these types of incidents are the reason why. At Dual Diagnosis Anonymous today the reading and discussion was about who to share your condition with and when it's safe to do so. I'm a very open and gregarious person, so I used to tell EVERYONE that I was type one br they hit the ten-month mark? He's been saying he was 18 months for the past two. Side note: having a certaiever. All that means is that you haven't picked up a drink or a drug. Let's just get that out there.

He's very selfish, and now that I've started graduate school (in the field of psychology) he is upset that I don't have as much time for him. He also is not formally educated in any way and I'm pretty sure that that insecurity plays a part in this. I basically broke up with me because he isn't getting enough attention. I, of course, did not react well, and his response was to call me a crazy bipolar b*tch. Whys is that okay? Why is mental illness considered to be an acceptable form of ammunition? I've had bipolar disorder thrown in my face my entire adult life, and it hurts every time. Every. Single. Time. If you truly love someone, how could you possible use their pain against them, as if it was a choice to become mentally ill? (On top of it, there's this PTSD crap I'm trying to work through, and he's woefully insensitive to that issue as well.) Where do I find these jackasses? I want to just be loved in entirety, for who I am, good and bad. It's hard enough to open up about my mental illness, and these types of incidents are the reason why. At Dual Diagnosis Anonymous today the reading and discussion was about who to share your condition with and when it's safe to do so. I'm a very open and gregarious person, so I used to tell EVERYONE that I was type one bipolar. This was before I was aware of the sordid social stigma behind it. Society is more accepting of alcoholism than mental illness, and I wonder how long it will take for that to change. AA has been around since 1939, and I get that. I just want all of us to be treated like humans regardless of which disorder we have. I didn't drink, use, or cut after the Michael incident. I guess that's progress, right?

Never doing that to myself again. I'm giving Michael the break-up speech tomorrow. Bipolar Disorder is pretty rough, let's not lie to ourselves. Even with the right medication at the right dosage taken at the right times, the symptoms can still manifest themselves in different ways. I understand if he doesn't know much about it. I don't understand how he can be okay with remaining woefully ignorant about something that affects his loved one in such a powerful way. For example: Michael has Crohn's disease. I didn't know what is was before we started dating. Now I know what it is, what causes it, and how it's treated? You know why? Because it impacts the man I love. It's that simple. Last night I had a mood crash. For some reason I went from manageable to depressed as hell and was completely unable to manage my emotions. I couldn't focus on the movie and I was hurting so badly that i just went down to go to sleep. He came in and asked what was wrong so I tried to explain my feelings. He wound up getting really angry and frustrated. I tried to explain to him what Bipolar Disorder is and he says, "I know what it is. It's mood swings." Are you kidding me? Just mood swings? Sure. And hell is just a sauna. It hurt me so much to have him minimize my pain and make me feel like a crazy person. I feel terrible enough about this stuff as it is. His defense was that he just doesn't know as much because he's "just a delivery guy." I'm sorry, but I don't accept that. I know that mood disorders aren't exactly common knowledge but we've been together long enough that he should try to make my moments from hell better, not worse. I would give anything to not have these feelings, to not be an alcoholic. My biological mother is an alcoholic and her mother died from complications of alcoholism, so that was kind of to be expected. I've dated other addicts before, and it has its upsides and downsides. I wonder what it would be like to date someone with a mood disorder. That might have the potential for disaster. We'll see.