I’ve been away for a long time, some of you might have noticed. Gone and somewhat in hiding.

I spent a week in the hospital recovering from an abscess and surgery to drain it, and for three nights they failed to give me my Bipolar Disorder medication. This is a facility that just opened its own emergency room for psychiatric patients. It doesn’t make any sense to me. My doctors and nurses were exceptional; I believe the problem was with the pharmacy. Asking my husband to bring me my pills wasn’t an option because I was receiving all of my medication through IV in order to rest my digestive rest.

There’s nothing quite like being hooked up to multiple IVs, knowing you’re on the verge of a cycle and there is physically nothing you can do about it but beg, plead, and remind everyone who walks into the room that you NEED your medication. Because I wasn’t getting my medication, I couldn’t sleep. I’m sure you know where I’m going with this…

On my last night in the hospital, depression struck. You don’t have to have BP to get depressed in a hospital bed. Unless you’re having a baby, there’s nothing joyful about it, but I knew I was most likely going home the next day, and still got depressed. That’s how I knew the difference. When I got home, I was questioning my faith and I was very angry at everything – mostly stupid stuff that doesn’t matter, like a dropped knife, or not being able to find a pair of flip-flops.

I just needed a break, so I took one, and now I’m back. I hope you’ve all had good mental health since we last talked… I think I’m starting to regain mine. I know that I advocate for transparency and honesty, of not being ashamed of this disease and others like it, but I wasn’t in any shape to post anything of real value. I’m looking forward to stumbling through this maze with all of you again.



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    Last reviewed: 24 Jun 2013

APA Reference
Fidler, J. (2013). Back to Reality. Psych Central. Retrieved on October 22, 2014, from



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