Shoot for the moon even if you miss you will land among the stars.

I needed something uplifting after the day I had. I am so stressed out with everything happening around me. I haven’t had a chance to update everything the way I wanted to. I need a vacation from everything. I am trying to figure out how to manage everything and be there for people emotionally, mentally and physically but it is so hard. I can only be a good support system for so long before I collapse and need you more than you needed me. I am trying to do better drinking more water but it isn’t helping at all. I need guidance over this next year on exactly what I should do. I feel like I am lost completely.

🖤Day 4🖤 MENTAL HEALTH WEEK- Rare mental Illness

Each day I will detail an illness. Some of them you’ve heard of some you haven’t but the most important thing is we recognize some of them. One illness is greater than the other just some for more information.

15 Scariest Mental Disorders of All Time

Imagine suffering from a mental illness that causes you to believe your significant other is an imposter set on harming you, or which convinces you that books are for eating, or worse yet, that you have somehow become the walking dead. Scary, right?

While only a small percentage of people are forced to live with the disorders described above, the fact remains that 450 million people worldwide suffer from mental illness. In the United States alone, one in four families is affected. While some mental disorders, such as depression, can occur naturally, others are the result of brain trauma or other injuries. Although it is fair to say that any mental illness can be scary for those suffering, there are a few rare disorders that are especially terrifying. Below, we’ve described what we think you’ll agree are the 15 scariest mental disorders of all time.

Alice in Wonderland Syndrome

Alice in Wonderland may be pure fantasy, but one of Alice’s more bizarre experiences shares its characteristics with a scary mental disorder. Known also as Todd Syndrome, Alice in Wonderland Syndrome causes one’s surroundings to appear distorted. Just as Alice grows too tall for the house, those suffering from Alice in Wonderland Syndrome will hear sounds either quieter or louder than they actually are, see objects larger or smaller than reality, and even lose sense of accurate velocity or textures. This terrifying disorder, which has been described as an LSD trip without the euphoria, even perverts one’s own body image. Fortunately, Alice in Wonderland Syndrome is extremely rare, and in most cases affects those in their 20s who have a brain tumor or history of drug use.

Alien Hand Syndrome

Though it’s often been used in terrifying plot twists, Alien Hand Syndrome is hardly limited to the fictional world. Those with this scary, but fortunately rare, mental disorder experience a complete loss of control of a hand or limb. The uncontrollable limb often seems to take on a mind and will of its own, and sufferers have reported their “alien” limb attempting to choke either themselves or others, ripping clothing, or scratching to the point of blood. Alien Hand Syndrome most often appears in patients with Alzheimer’s Disease or Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease, or as a result of brain surgery during which the brain’s two hemispheres have been separated. Unfortunately, no cure exists for Alien Hand Syndrome, and those affected by it are often left to keep their hands constantly occupied or use their other hand to control the alien hand.

Apotemnophilia

Known also as Body Integrity Disorder and Amputee Identity Disorder, Apotemnophilia is a neurological disorder characterized by the overwhelming desire to amputate or damage healthy parts of the body. Though not much is known about this strangely terrifying disorder, is is believed to be associated with damage to the right parietal lobe of the brain. Because the vast majority of surgeons will not amputate healthy limbs upon request, some sufferers of Apotemnophilia feel forced to amputate on their own — a dangerous scenario. Of those who have had a limb removed by a doctor, most are reportedly happy with their decision even after the fact.

Boanthropy

Those who suffer from the very rare — but very scary — mental disorder Boanthropy believe they are cows, often going as far as to behave as such. Sometimes those with Boanthropy are even found in fields with cows, walking on all fours and chewing grass as if they were a true member of the herd. Those with Boanthropy do not seem to realize what they’re doing when they act like a cow, leading researchers to believe that this odd mental disorder is brought on by dreams or even hypnotism. Interestingly, it is believed that Boanthropy is even referred to in the Bible, as King Nebuchadnezzar is described as being “driven from men and did eat grass as oxen.”

Capgras Delusion

Capras Delusion, named after Joseph Capgras, a French psychiatrist who was fascinated by the illusion of doubles, is a debilitating mental disorder in which one believes that the people around them have been replaced by imposters. Furthermore, these imposters are usually thought to be planning to harm the sufferer. In one case, a 74-year old woman with Capgras Delusion began to believe that her husband had been replaced with an identical looking imposter who was out to hurt her. Capgras Delusion is relatively rare, and is most often seen after trauma to the brain, or in those who have been diagnosed with dementia, schizophrenia, or epilepsy.

Clinical Lycanthropy

Like those with Boanthropy (described above), those who suffer from Clinical Lycanthropy also believe themselves to be able to turn into animals — in this case, wolves and werewolves, though occasionally other types of animals are included. Along with the belief that they can become wolves, people with Clinical Lycanthropy also begin to act like an animal, and are often found living or hiding in forests and other wooded areas.

Cotard Delusion

There’s a healthy interest in The Walking Dead and other elements of the current zombie trend, and then there’s Cotard Delusion. This scary mental disorder causes the sufferer to believe that they are the walking dead (literally) or a ghost, and that their body is decaying and/or they’ve lost all blood and internal organs. The feeling of having a rotting body is usually part of the delusion, and it shouldn’t come as a surprise that many sufferers of Cotard Delusion experience severe depression. In some cases, the delusion causes sufferers to starve themselves to death. This terrifying disorder was first described in 1880 by neurologist Jules Cotard, though fortunately, Cotard’s Delusion has proven extremely rare. The most well-known case of Cotard Delusion actually occurred in Haiti, where a man was absolutely convinced he had died of AIDS and was in Hell.

Diogenes Syndrome

Diogenes Syndrome is more commonly referred to as simply “hoarding,” and is one of the most misunderstood mental disorders. Named after the Greek philosopher Diogenes of Sinope (who was, ironically, a minimalist), this syndrome is usually characterized by the overwhelming desire to collect seemingly random items, to which an emotional attachment is then formed. In addition to uncontrollable hoarding, those with Diogenes Syndrome often exhibit extreme self neglect, apathy towards themselves or others, social withdrawal, and no shame for their habits. It is very common among the elderly, those with dementia, and people who have at some point in their lives been abandoned or who have lacked a stable home environment.

Factitious Disorder

Most people cringe at the first sniffle indicating a potential cold or illness, but not those with Factitious Disorder. This scary mental disorder is characterized by an obsession with being sick. In fact, most people with Factitious Disorder intentionally make themselves ill in order to receive treatment (this makes it different than hypochondria). Sometimes, sufferers will simply pretend to be ill, a ruse which includes elaborate stories, long lists of symptoms, and jumping from hospital to hospital. Such an obsession with sickness often stems from past trauma or serious illness. It affects less than .5% of the general population, and while there’s no cure, it is often able to be limited via psychotherapy.

Kluver-Bucy Syndrome

Imagine craving the taste of a book or wanting to have sex with a car. That’s reality for those affected by Kluver-Bucy Syndrome, a scary mental disorder characterized by memory loss, the desire to eat inedible objects, and sexual attraction to inanimate objects such as automobiles. Not surprisingly, those with Kluver-Bucy Syndrome often have trouble recognizing objects or people that should be familiar. This terrifying mental disorder is difficult to diagnose, and seems to be the result of severe injury to the brain’s temporal lobe. Unfortunately, there is not a cure for Kluver-Bucy Syndrome and sufferers are often affected for the rest of their lives.

Sources:

psychologyonlinedegree.com

The long awaited final part of Bipolar Outcast booty juiced filled 72 hour involuntary psych hold.

So as I’ve promised here is the conclusion to my 72 hour psych hold.

I lunged forward my clothes soaked I sweat my eyes adjust to the darkness as I look around trying to familiarize with my surroundings, my roommates snores are rumbling through the room and as I mentioned before the room is at 80 degrees. Her snores are almost deafening. I couldn’t sleep much anyway even with the klonopin and other sleep meds all I could think about was my daughter and my husband. My room is a small 6×8 room it was covered in ugly paneling, stained white tiles covering the floor. There are two twin size beds with plastic mattresses and pillows beside them is a small particle board dresser with two deep drawers, a sink and mirror jammed in the corner. We have one plastic window with a taupe roller shade that I am not allowed to open because it sends my roommate into fits. I figured while she was sleeping I could change the thermostat so I wouldn’t die of heat exhaustion (that is a bit of exaggeration.) I get up to go to the bathroom knowing room checks are coming soon and even though I am more relaxed all I want to do is talk to my husband. When the nurse comes in she is a little less of a bitch and tells me that they are turning the phone on before breakfast and she will make sure I get to use it, but I need to go back to bed to sleep so we don’t have another incident like yesterday. That made a world of difference and I was able to sleep.

As soon as they come in to wake us up I dart out of the room and straight to the phone. I think everyone knew about yesterday because no one got in my way. The second I heard my husbands voice I broke down. I gave him my patient number so if he needed to call they would know who he is calling for. I also got to tell my daughter good morning which made my day better. I think the nurses were hoping this would keep me out of trouble…..

After breakfast we went back to group therapy where we did more worksheets on how to handle stress (I still have them) and during break the drama lady got back on the phone. (She had a sheet of paper with numbers listed.) We did get the TV remote and watched part of “Bridge to Terabithia ” (I watch it every year on this day.) after this I slept through the majority of group therapy and after my spectacle they stopped trying to wake me up and let me sleep. I told them that either way I was going to sleep so it’s best to not fight it. We went to an activities class and played basketball then we made bracelets. I saw my fucktard doctor again who after I explained I was sleeping all day upped my fucking klonopin to .5 and had me take them twice a day instead of once day. That is how you stop someone from sleeping all day give them more benzos. This time he talked to me for 10 whole minutes and changed his mind again and deter,i Ed that I was in fact bipolar. He is still a fucktard who said antidepressants would be just as effective as mood stabilizers. So off I go again he upped my Lexapro and Klonopin even though it takes time for antidepressant to get in your system upping them was the right fucking idea. I called him a douchebag amongst other things. I had to fight to see him and that meant the constant threat of booty juice because he was too fucking important to see his patients and he took days off during the week without any referral to someone else while I was fucking stuck in there. I watched people go home everyday two or three people were going home and my anger kept getting worse. I was arguing and being combative with the staff when I wasn’t sleeping because I wanted to fucking go home. In this time no matter how many times I asked no one would/could tell me exactly what I did to get in there. When the candy cart came around the nurse would distribute pills she always checked your cheeks to make sure you weren’t checking them for suicidal reasons or as currency for cigarettes. I finally was taken off suicide watch (which until I was off I didn’t know I was on). We were in activities (by the way the counselor we had was the nicest and the only qualified person there.) turned on some music and told us to put our heads down and listen to the guitar instrumental he started talking about our family and friends the more he talked the more my mind cleared I thought about that day when they left me and I fell apart. For the first time since I’d been there I felt the pain in me I stopped being so angry and was ready to heal some. I also figured out this point how to figure out how to bullshit people enough to get the fuck out of there. I participated in all the group therapy started filling out the worksheets and finally the fucktard psychiatrist came to his senses and freed me from the horrid hellhole they locked me in. I remember seeing my husband shoes when I came out the door and my daughter yell mama. I was wearing green sweatpants a holy orange shirt I needed a shower a brush and food!!!!

My story from this point forward only gets more fucked up but this is how my mental health story began.

Hello booty juice (part 3)

All night they do checks on the patients, every 15 minutes to be exact. It didn’t matter where you were or what you were doing they were going to find you. There is more to that story soon, but now after NO SLEEP they wake us up at 6:30/7:00. We all start to file out and people have made friends and they are all talking to each other and I’m just there. We all go to breakfast (the only plus is the food is good.) and then we are placed in groups. I was placed in the progressive group. This group were for people who had problems but could still function in the everyday world. Then it happened the most horrid retched thing imaginable. We were put in GROUP THERAPY for 8 hours. Yes you read that correctly 8 fucking hours of group therapy. We broke for lunch and dinner we also had small breaks in between but mostly it was GROUP.  The first woman in there who claimed to be a “psychologist” explained to us how alcoholism and drug abuse is hereditary and no matter what we do we will probably suffer form of it. Of course someone who has never experienced anything like this has now become more anxious. We are listening to her go on and on telling her all of her families issues (at some point I wondered if she belonged to with us.)  They would give us small 5 minute breaks and as soon as the break word break came out of their mouth they would swipe their badge and turn the phones on. It looked like a Black Friday sale everyone jumping to get on the phone. There was a middle aged woman who called everyone in her family and we heard her entire life story. (If you’ve ever seen OITNB she is the Hispanic lady crying on the phone. There are things I don’t care if you are a stranger or not you shouldn’t say in front of other people.) After the second break and another part of her life story the “counselor” came in and left the area to turn the phone on open and stepped back out to talk to someone and I ran over and flipped the button on so I could call my husband. I’d probably been on the phone with him for about 1.5 minutes when the “counselor” came back and said, “No one is supposed to touch that button who turned the damn phones on.” I just want to remind everyone at this point that I am sleep deprived, manic, confused and so fucking pissed off I didn’t care. “I did because this bitch wouldn’t shut the fuck up.” The “counselor” stood back her face turned red, her eyes begin to narrow as she pursed her lips. “We will calm you down. That is your last warning.” Her knuckles kept turning whiter and whiter. “I don’t give a fuck.” I said laughing. You could tell that she was frazzled like she had lost control of the group. So we talked some more, she glared at me the whole time I didn’t pay attention. Next comes lunch and after the candy cart came around. For those of you who aren’t familiar the candy cart is the wonderful nurse/pharm tech that brings around the pills. You know the good stuff that makes 8 hours of group therapy bearable. I went up and the nurse snapped, “We can’t give you anything because you haven’t seen your doctor.” She whipped around pushing the cart down the hallway.

I read via bathroom light the night before when I was unable to sleep that by law I had to see my psychiatrist 24 hours after the 10-13 was issued and according to the paperwork the 10-13 was issued at 9:30 am so I am well over my 24 hours and now I am pissed. I slam my fist on the desk and start yelling, “It’s been over 24 hours where the fuck is my doctor?” The counselor rolls her eyes and motions for the door as soon as I walk out there is another person waiting for me and again they trying to calm me down but all I see is red. “Do we need to calm you down?” Her brows crease and her eyes glaring through me and I decide to get cocky. “You keep fucking threatening me with that but you ain’t bout shit.” As the words slip off my tongue here comes a nurse with a needle in her hand. She grabbed my arm and drug me down by the nurses station the needle still in her hand. It was like waving a gun when robbing a bank. I sit with group that has the “loose girl” in it. I am sitting there while they are coloring still grumbling when I see the nurses station door open. I am inclined to mischief and not learning my lesson from the previous time I walk in the nurses station and sit down to use the phone. (I really wanted to talk to my husband to calm myself down and though I feel like I have expressed this it seems they would not listen.) Then it happened…..I got booty juiced.

I wake up a little later in a room that I’ve never seen before. I was able to sleep a little longer so I wasn’t so pissed. The nurse came in and said, “Are you going to follow rules?” I sleepily nodded and was escorted to a list of small glass offices. I sat my legs shaking furiously when a small Middle Eastern man walks in and introduces himself as the psychologist. I asked as nicely as I could for the psychiatrist and see said, “You have to see me first.” I will save you from the ignorant angry words I said. Finally this smug, douchebag walks in he looks like he is 20 years old and of course he is my psychiatrist who talks to me for like 5 seconds determines they I may not be bipolar but severely depressed. ( There is no way in such a short amount of time he could diagnose me.) He prescribes me Lexapro, Klonopin, and one other medicine to help me sleep. Now the candy cart will be my best friend and I am sent back to my group. I eat dinner finish up and head back to the common area to get ready for bed. I make it back to the room sit on the toilet when someone swings open the shower curtain. ( There were no doors.) “Leave me the fuck alone. I am trying to take a shit in peace dammit.” She gives me a smug look, “We are doing a count do we need to calm you down again.” “Bite me bitch.” I say getting up to wipe. “Are you going to help me out?” She frowns and exits the room. I take a moment and hope in the shower and here she comes again. ” There is no way it’s been 15 fucking minutes already. Leave me the fuck alone.” She stands there staring at me. ” Unless you plan on helping me you need to fucking leave.” She starts to giggle and exits the room. This is my first of a hellish 72 hours.

Property of the state… (part two of my story.)

They gave me my papers and told me I had to be there by 7:30. I went to SummitRidge in Lawrenceville, Ga, don’t go to Summit for ANY REASON!!! My husband and daughter walked me in as far as they could go, I handed my papers in and said goodbyes. The big wooden doors beeped as they swiped their badges and I was quickly ushered in. My world was crushed and I was still so confused and hurt by what was going on. They brought me into a room with 4 or 5 other people and I sat with my bag and my stuff shaking and crying because no one would tell me what was going on. I remember I love Lucy in captions in the waiting area. About 9:30 or so it was finally my turn. This small little bald white man who was extremely grumpy and unfriendly started asking me about my insurance and financial questions and I was a bitch and told him all I wanted to do was go home and he said, “You will but not for 72 hours.” He smirked and I called him a bastard. “If you can’t control yourself we will take care of it for you.” He meant booty juiced. I’ve become very familiar with booty juice. For those of you who don’t know, booty juice is when they take a shot of thioridazine or haldol and if the nurse is a bitch it is a bit of both and jam it in your ass to calm you down. So now it is after 10:30 when he finishes and I am ushered through more beeping wooden doors to a larger waiting room. This is when I met the on staff doctor. While I waited for my turn holding my stuff and more papers, a few people “got loose.” as the nurses called it. There was a woman there I don’t remember her name but she walked around and had touch everything and kept moaning something I couldn’t understand. I don’t think she could actually talk to you and if you went near her she would freak out and go the other way. In the process of her “getting loose.” her shorts dropped down and she was walking shorts around her ankles and the nurses were laughing. We are now after 11 pm and I am tired, pissed off, and still confused none of it felt real. When I walked in to the room to see him (there was no nurse or any woman in the room btw.) The nurses took my stuff and started rumbling through it. When I walked into the room the dr. who was an asshole as well asked me my name and birth date then says “squat and cough.” I’ve seen this on movies but it is real.  So I did what he said, even though I was extremely uncomfortable and expressed this more than once. He said pull out from under your bra to make sure there is nothing hidden. I am still extremely uncomfortable as he takes my temperature and blood pressure asked about tuberculosis (that is a common problem)  then sends me back out with no more conversation. Now it is close to midnight and I finally was placed in “a bed” They give you exactly 1 sheet, 1, pillow, 1 blanket a wash cloth and a towel. They also give you a small piece of soap, 1 bottle of shampoo and conditioner then 1 toothbrush and a small thing of toothpaste. You could not get another towel or washcloth until you turned in the previous pairs. I was handed all of this with my bag that was all out of whack and sent me to my room. It was separated into three separate wings, the men, the women, and then the teens. We had one common area to share. My roommate was already sleeping (she kept the room at 80 degrees and there was no negotiating with her. She had been there for almost 3 weeks.) So I wrapped my blanket around me and went out to the common area and sat on the couch crying. The nurse who was French…I think was very harsh and told me to go to bed or they would make sure my doctor knew and I would stay longer. I didn’t even know who my doctor was no one told me. I was sent back to fill “a bed” and as I am walking she reminds me that I am property of the state so now I try and sleep but it starts to get better…….

to be continued

10-13 – 72 hour psych hold – The story of a bipolar outcast. (This is a 4 part series.)

The story: My hubby and I went tubing the week before everything happened. There was a lot of rain so the water was rough, but we decided to go anyway. We were probably a quarter of the way down the river when I hit a rock that knocked me out of the tube and underwater. The tube fell on top of me and when I finally stood up my anxiety was bad I couldn’t breathe. The moments after this are kind of blurred except the fight with my husband (when it gets bad there is ALWAYS a fight with my husband.) The next days after that it kept getting worse and that feeling in my stomach wouldn’t go away. I left where I was that Friday and rushed myself to the ER convinced I was dying of something. (I tend to be a tad bit dramatic.) The dr in the ER told me I was just experiencing some mild anxiety and prescribed me Ativan (3). (We now know I can’t take Ativan because it makes me manic.) The entire weekend was just a blur. I know I wasn’t sleeping, then I was and then I tried to run out of the condo naked a few times and drive my car. (if you’ve read the exorcism post this should sound familiar.) I  got time confused and started texting and calling people at all hours of the night. When Monday finally came around I crashed then on Tuesday I had a doctors appointment and that is when it all happened.

I don’t trust general practitioners to this day because of this. It was Tuesday, July 16, 2013, I went in at 8:30 am for a dr. appointment and somewhere I scared the hell out of Nurse Practitioner with closing blinds, turning off a light and sitting in the dark (I’m sure other stuff happened I can’t remember.) I sat there for awhile and then the doctor came in and said we are taking you across the street to the hospital (Morgan Memorial), but when I said I would drive they said, “No the nurse will bring you.” I should’ve known something was up then. When we got to the hospital there were security guards and nurses around the check in desk and then I knew something was wrong. After I checked in they put me in a bed by the nurses station and every time I had to go to the bathroom they would follow me. (This should’ve been my clue.) between then and about 2:30 I had nurses and doctors in and out asking me questions taking my blood. I called my husband trying to keep him updated until he was able to get off work to sit with me. I kept asking when I was going to leave but no one would tell me anything and THEN finally that evil bitch walked in, the on staff psychologist. We played 20 questions and she pulled out a pile of papers and started playing 150 questions. I got irritated and asked if I could leave and she in this most condescending way possible says, “If you leave the sheriff will come and find you.” I still had no clue what the fuck was going on and she finally told me. “You were placed on a 10-13 (in the state of Ga) involuntary psych hold. So we are trying to find a bed for you at a psych hospital.” There was never anything comforting or further explanation besides, “You are bipolar, manic and a danger to yourself and others. We will come back when we have a bed for you.” That was it “a bed.” In the eyes of the state I am no longer a person, just “a bed.” I had become a number, a warm body to fill the bed and line the pockets of the insurance companies.

When my husband got there I told him the news. I was completely devastated and confused. We still weren’t completely sure of what was happening.  I tried to explain to him what was happening but it didn’t make any sense because NONE OF THIS MADE SENSE. The evil bitch finally came back when they had “a bed” and she could barely get the words out of her mouth before he got angry and started demanding answers. She explained everything to him and he said, “I want to take her there.” She said, “No she has to go by ambulance because she is in the care of the state.” I was “a bed” “in the care of the state.” I want you to think about how fucked up that is. They took my identity from me and made me a statistic, my illness at that point defined me. My husband talked her into letting him take me. He rushed home grabbed our daughter and some clothes. (If you aren’t familiar with psych hospitals; No shoelaces, no drawstrings, no belts, nothing sharp, nothing offensive, nothing triggering,) So he was able to run home grabbed some clothes and flip flops and my daughter. This still bothers some people because my daughter was there when I was dropped off.

We are getting to the good stuff…..