When all the world goes out like the tide, and you feel like you are standing alone watching and waiting for the water to reach you again, to cleanse you.  That is the moment when I feel most alone.  Knowing the tide will eventually ebb and flow again, but standing there and waiting. 

Zoloft Crazy?

That moment when…

the depression is so bad you feel like you have failed everyone and everything and as much as you want to go to sleep and not wake up you have to keep on breathing.

Such was me a few weeks ago, me before coming off the Zoloft.

The Zoloft that made life worst.  The Zoloft that made me feel crazy.  The Zoloft that made me want to harm myself.  The Zoloft that made me put the breaks on while driving because I thought someone was crossing the road and when I blinked no one was there (among other stories), The Zoloft that made me dream dreams that I thought were real, absolute. The Zoloft that did not mix well with alcohol.  The Zoloft that did not let me sleep but yet made me feel like I wanted to go to sleep and not wake up. The Zoloft that made me paranoid.  The Zoloft that changed me.

Now I am off the Zoloft, and in just a couple of weeks I already feel a ton better, not ‘normal me’ better, but not Zoloft crazy.

Back one one of my old faithful medications, Tegertol.

Bipolar Whispers is 2



Bipolar Whispers Blog is 2.

I cannot believe it has been 2 years since I first started the Bipolar Whispers blog.  I started this in a Manic high to let out frustrations to write to my hearts content and to express things I could not even begin to express in my ‘real’ life.

This past year was a lot slower than the first 6 months or so of the blog, but lately I have been trying to get some content out.  Thanks to everyone who has been reading for the past two years and thanks to all my new readers.

Be sure to read through my older content, you will find a lot of good information and a lot of soulful and heart felt writings there. 

Lets hope that I can get back to the basic reasons for starting this blog and make year 3 fantastic.



Sometimes the despair and destruction and chaos inside is more real than the conversation or situation that I am in.  To the point where I forget things because of the devastation that I am going through at that particular time.  Such is the story of Friday/Saturday.

I know it was bad, horrible, I know I bared my soul, but I cannot remember most of it.

I had no filter – the alcohol gave the paranoia a voice

So pretty much since February 24th I have been in a weird place mentally.   December, January, and part of February brought with it a little depression.  Nothing serious.  But just a nagging sensation that I was part of the way under the balance line of normal.

There was some stress. Some anxiety.  Some “I do not want to go out” , “No I do not want to go to that Christmas party”.

I hate winter.  I mean I hate it.  If I could come inside in December and not go outside anymore until April I would be a happy camper.  Perhaps I should begin hibernating?!?

So a little withdrawn, a little depression.  Nothing serious.  I have seen worst.  I have had worst.

February month is always difficult for me.  My Dad passed away in February when I was a child. So I see this every year.

So since February 24th I have been having a more unusual sleep schedule then my usual unusual sleep habits. Yes that sentence makes sense if you read it slow *winks*.  Sleeping very little for 3-4 days.  Then sleeping a bit better 4+ hours then a good day 8-9 hours.  Then back to sleeping very little.

With it came the sensations of being just slightly over the balance line.  Sometimes a little moderately over.

Not needing the sleep that I have lost.  Feeling like my skin is crawling, jittery.  A few projects here and there.  Lots of thoughts in my head, to the point of invading my thoughts mid sentence.  Shaky and some weight loss. Paranoia.

But this time some of my tell tale symptoms did not arrive.  I am not really talking fast, at least no faster then normal.  I am able to control myself a lot more from jumping up and doing more and more random things.  Trying very hard to maintain control.  Hiding as usual.

But there are some things that I do not usually experience.  Like increased sex drive – like wow…capital W.O.W.  Lots of writing.  I am so happy that this increased phase has lifted some of the writers block that I have been feeling for years.

On Saturday after having very little sleep.  30 minutes on Friday night.  I decided it would be a good idea to drink.  I drank 7 beer in a pretty short period of time.  And holy crap did it ever effect me.  Once  I got home I ended up crying – I have no idea why, and freaking out.  Much of which I do not remember, nor do I understand or know why.

I know that I felt like I had no filter.  Things were coming out of my mouth with out any thought to what I was saying, if the words were going to hurt anyone or if what I was saying was even true.

I feel like the alcohol gave the paranoia a voice.

It let thoughts come out of my mouth that I knew were paranoia in my normal non drunk stupor.  But in my drunken crying fit of a rage the paranoia was fierce.

The next day I feel dumb.  I always feel like the rage and crying, and not knowing why, was me being messed up.  That I need to stop these actions before I drive the people I love the most, furthest away from me.

That is a scary thought for me.  Loosing the people I love the most.  My biggest fear.

I am extremely lucky. My husband has stood by my side for the past 14 1/2 years.  He has seen a lot of my behaviors and although he might not always understand why I said what I said, or did what I did or felt the way I felt he has stood by me and helped me through them as best as he can.

And for that, I love him with all my heart.

*Side note – ha can I call it a side note if it appears at the end?  I saw my Psychiatrist today, we added a new med – hopefully this helps subside the manic possibilities that are mildly floating around inside me.*