I live below the poverty level. I am not proud of that, but when you are beautifully bipolar there are some things you can’t do, like hold down a job. I was fired from a retail job last year during a med change. My mind just couldn’t hold on to information or process new stuff. I couldn’t explain to my boss I was mentally ill and going through a rough patch. I held my head high, knowing it wasn’t my fault but the illness’s when I walked out the door the last time.

Once I worked at one of the busiest coffee shops in Nashville. Over time it began to be too much. My anxiety couldn’t take it. That time, I quit.

I see my psych dr 2 to 3 times a month at $50 a pop. My therapist is the same price and I see her 3 times a month. You do the math. And that doesn’t include prescriptions or any other doctors – like the orthopedic specialist I am seeing for my hand. Health insurance is a joke and I hate it. It makes the poor poorer.