The Time I Tried to Kill Myself and Failed (Obviously): A Realistic Discussion of Suicide

May 18, 2020May 18, 2020 by amberskyef ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Content warning: suicide, suicidal ideation, and even discussion of an attempt

The way we experience the world is nothing more than the sum of our brain chemicals–and at any given moment, these chemicals could go awry, affecting how we perceive the world. Through zero fault of our own, a jarring shift in our perspective of the world upends our current sense of safety and security. According to NAMI, 1 in 5 adults are afflicted with a mental illness of some kind. 3.9% of the adult population in the year of 2015 reported experiencing suicidal thoughts. While it’s not mentioned what percentage of those are the result of mental illness and what percentage are the result of situational, I’m going to concentrate on those who experience thoughts due to mental illness because I still do not think it is as understood as it should be. Any time I see neurotypicals speak of suicide as a result of losing a loved one to it, it’s generally in the context of a vague situation–and frankly, I don’t want proselytizing about the beauty of life from someone who has never been paralyzed by plans bulleting through your mind. Or even from someone who wanted to kill themselves because of a divorce or some other situational event. They’re not the same. I would know, as I almost went through a divorce last year. I was able to talk my way out of those feelings, but I can’t do it when I’m suicidal because of my bipolar.

***

My first real attempt occurred during a bipolar mixed episode, where I was both manic and depressed at the same time. I was feeling intense despair at the loss of my hypomania the day before and also intense despair in general, especially because I could not understand what was happening to me. At the time, I didn’t see an end to it. Despite all the self-awareness in the world (I have been told numerous times in various hospitalizations I am unusually self-aware), that was not enough to act as a shield against my brain pummeling me with suicidal thoughts. It was not enough to keep my glands from secreting suicidal hormones. The feeling was quite terrifying, and in that moment I was planning what to do.

What would be the most painless way for me to go?

No painless ways exist. I researched it years prior. I think there is one painless way, but it would have required ordering some strange things off Amazon.

So I decided to drink myself to death. I was already familiar with vomiting from drinking too much, so it couldn’t have been much worse than that. That was from three drinks with 40% alcohol. Keep in mind, I don’t drink that often, so I don’t have any resistance built up in me.

Now if I recall, my choice of poison was a vodka that was 50% alcohol. I ended up drinking like five mixed drinks with more than a shot’s worth in each one. I also had a lesser percentage after the five, just to finish up an older bottle. I really thought that would do me in considering my low tolerance. At the very least, I thought I’d throw up. A few months prior, I took like three shots of fireball back to back and was laid out by the toilet, so surely 50% alcohol was going to do something to me.

So I waited.

And waited.

And all I got was drunk; I also had to go to the bathroom quite often.

Other than that, I didn’t vomit or even feel nauseated.

Turns out mania makes you more tolerant to alcohol, meaning you have to drink more to get drunk. It’s likely due to the increased metabolism, which made me drop twenty pounds without trying over the 6 month time period I was rapid cycling (let’s be honest, I really only wanted to drop 5 lbs.).

Anyway, did I mention I was alone during this whole trying-to-die affair? Well I was, at least until my husband came home and I admitted what I tried to do–either that or I half-lied. I don’t remember. What I do remember is staying in bed and him checking up on me. I also remember thinking about how ambivalent I was that I didn’t succeed. I might have been somewhat disappointed. It’s not like I was any less suicidal and had become filled with a renewed sense of thankfulness for the overabundance of dopamine that kept the alcohol from doing me in.

That’s not how bipolar disorder works. That’s not how any mental illness works.

I hate empty platitudes directed toward the mentally ill who are either suicidal or have attempted suicide before.

In all my time of being suicidal, it has never helped to know people love me. I know that, but I am not some thing that exists for the enjoyment of others, to have my joyless existence (when I’m ill) feasted upon until I’m a husk who cannot enjoy life because she has no energy from being so exhausted living for other people. To all of the neurotypicals out there, you might think you’re being helpful by insinuating that if we cannot live for ourselves, we should live for others, but you’re not. Living for others is exhausting. Your brain will just not let you see the good in life, which is why medication exists in the first place. When you’re mentally ill, suicidal feelings are also not a choice, a flotation device you choose to grab on to when life simply becomes too much. I didn’t just think, ‘Gee, suicide sounds great right about now to put an end to this bipolar nonsense.’ The feelings hit my head like a wrecking ball the morning I woke up feeling overwhelmingly confused about where my head was.

So am I in favor of suicidal people being able to euthanize themselves then? Absolutely not! When you are suicidal, you are not in your correct frame of mind. None of your thoughts are rational. That’s why it’s important for suicidal people to never be left alone because that’s all you can do is keep a suicidal person safe. Like depressive peaks, suicidal thoughts aren’t forever, even if they feel like they are.

You can be depressed every single day of your life and never experience a single suicidal feeling. It takes a particular toxic chemical mixture to elicit suicidal thoughts, and once that mixture has either settled down or the right chemical has been added or removed, the thoughts do just go away in a snap. Thoughts of self-harm are much the same way. Why do I want to hurt myself? I don’t know. Mental illness in itself is not rational.

It has also never helped to know that I have a future. Yeah, okay, I know that, but I don’t care in the moment because I feel freaking miserable. There is nothing in the world that can outweigh the misery of mental illness. And please spare me the sentiment that I just need to keep getting up every day and keep trying. What do you think I have been doing? While a lot of people don’t like the label, I am high functioning, but it doesn’t make my illness any less severe. In fact, it arguably makes it more severe because I’ll be pushing myself to do things I shouldn’t be doing. I won’t take mental health days, even when I know I should.

Inevitably, all that pushing lands me in the hospital sooner or later.

I simply won’t mentally care for myself because my perfectionist streak makes it somehow seem a sin that I stay in bed all day, only getting up to use the restroom.

Also, keep trying? As we speak, even though I’m currently at baseline, I have been rapid cycling some time since near the end of last year, probably the middle of fall or something. I thought it was my period, but to my displeasure, my pdoc revealed it wasn’t. Now I’ll be back on the med merry go round again.

Neurotypicals with their empty platitudes will never understand what that’s like, to think you have found your golden ratio, only to be battered with the realization it’s not enough AND it’s also causing health issues. I mean, I started out on a med that made me crazy manic, and then got put on another med that made me hypomanic, but went unnoticed until I crashed into depression three months later, and then got put on a med that gave me awful panic attacks, and finally switched to a new doc who put me on Lamictal, which worked for three years before stopping for good.

That’s the thing. I depend solely on medication to keep me balanced. Bipolar disorder is not one that can go without. There are those who try to manage without using meds, but they still have plenty of episodes. And those who claim they’ve stopped meds and haven’t had problems since? They were either misdiagnosed, are lying, or eventually slip into a depressive or manic episode.

My rapid cycling likely isn’t as severe this go around because I do have Lithium and Depakote racing through me. But here’s the thing: They can’t be increased. Lithium has most likely given me hypothyroidism while I apparently have Depakote toxicity or something. My skin is dry, I have dandruff, my hair looks like Hagrid when unstyled, I’m pretty sure my cycle has either been disturbed or has stopped altogether, I have gained weight that kind of makes me hate my body (for my comfort, I always have to make a point of saying I’m not overweight), and I might have some digestive problems. Who knows?

I am not bitter about the hand I was dealt, despite sounding it. I am a realist who despises inspirational quotes, financial advisors, and life coaches–especially all of the aforementioned who have published trite books. They never consider that life is sometimes so horrifically abysmal and impossible that no amount of “advice” is going to fix the nightmare that is your life because sometimes no matter how hard you try, how hard you fight, life is unkind at the best of times and an absolute Karen at the worst. But keep in mind I said sometimes. So telling me my life is in my hands, solely to do what I please with, is unhelpful.

Mental illness robs you of any control you have over your life. Medication gives it back, but certain mental illnesses will need a rotating cast of it.

Today I still look at my attempt and feel absolutely disconnected from it. I don’t mourn my decision. I don’t revel in the outcome, grateful I didn’t die. I don’t chastise myself for doing something so foolish, promising that I’ll never do it again. Truth be told, I am terrified that any future attempts will be future successes. Or future attempts will land me in the hospital. Not all psychiatric units treat you kindly once you’ve attempted. One patient was put in handcuffs, and not the soft kind, when she was walked from the ER to the unit. She was by no means a criminal.

Bipolar disorder has a high suicide attempt rate, more than 50%. Its successes are also high when compared to other mental illnesses, like clinical depression. If any of you knew Steve Cash of his Talking Kitty Cat channel, he had bipolar disorder and unfortunately succumbed to it. I won’t say he died of suicide because if he didn’t have bipolar disorder from the start, he wouldn’t have had suicidal thoughts. So bipolar disorder killed him. Bipolar disorder might kill me. Apparently my life expectancy is shorter thanks to it, for whatever reasons.

By the way, I do believe life is mostly beautiful in spite of how tumultuous my 20s have been. Here’s to my 30s!

Marketing After a Book’s Release

November 10, 2013 by amberskyef ♥ 2 Comments

Preface: I just want to give all of you a bipolar update, basically. It seems my mood has stabilized, and there is a summer going on in my head. I will admit that yesterday I was manic, but I believe I induced that mania by eating too many espresso candy beans, so I’ll have to be wiser about caffeine in the future; however, it wasn’t dangerous mania. It was more of the go-go-go type of mania, where slowing down just annoyed me, and I just wanted to listen to loud music, talk all the time, move constantly, and act, well, like a teen on meth, basically. But, for once, I did not crash from this mania. I generally crash into depression, but I just slowly wound down, got tired–for once, not irritable–and just went to bed knowing I was no longer manic but feeling like I could wake up early and not sleep in. And I did wake up early: 8:30. I could have woken up earlier, but I’ll probably have to cut down my sleep meds, as I had to raise them because depression makes it difficult to sleep, even with meds. I think the higher dosage also makes me dream tons load, but I was actually dreaming good dreams last night, instead of nightmares. I am so getting off topic, but one of my dreams was about this ensuing flood that was coming, and the water level kept rising, but, for some reason, I felt so heroic throughout the whole dream because I was the one leading everybody to higher ground. In any case, without further ado, here is my post about marketing…finally.

I thought this would be a cute graphic to start off with.

I consider myself a very marketing-minded person. I realize that marketing books is an enormous passion of mine. I love it. It’s fun. My publisher can do marketing and take care of the business aspect of things, too, and I can do marketing myself because When Stars Die is my baby, so why wouldn’t I be happy to market it?

In any case, let’s start with those four words over there. My publisher took care of basically all four of these, but especially price and place. He set the price of my book based on what he believed to be a competitive price, and people don’t seem to mind this price because, again, the book is out of stock. He also chose the places this book would start at, such as Amazon and Barnes and Noble–online. But he also chose his wife’s store to put AEC’s books in. He is also encouraging me to go to The Book Tavern downtown to establish a relationship with the business owner so he isn’t making a cold call about getting my book in stores. There are also some other things about place, but those are a surprise and a work-in-progress.

I mainly provided the product, but my publisher also helped to whip that product into shape. A product’s quality is the NUMBER ONE thing when it comes to marketing, and without my publisher, the quality of my product wouldn’t exist. If you have a crap product, no amount of publicity is going to help that thing. He also helped with promotion, through press releases, encouraging of ARCs, social media, an anthology, among a few other things. But for the promotion, I just took off from there like a steam train because it’s my book, I love it, I love my fans, and I want to be out there, out there, out there. I am proud of my book, and so of course I’m going to parade it around like it’s my kid who just won a Nobel prize for discovering magnematter (a total hint at Raymond Vogel’s ‘Matter of Resistance.’ Seriously, people, get the book).

First off, marketing a book is not like marketing Coke (not the drug, you gutter rat). When you see an ad for Coke on television, you aren’t going to immediately go out and buy a Coke. However, if you see the ad enough times, your brain subconsciously picks up the messages within the advertisement. Your brain registers how great Coke is, what it can do for you, this for you, that for you, ect., so the next time you go to the store and want a drink, you’re more apt to pick up a Coke. Now we all have our drink favorites. I prefer Sprite myself, but if there is Coke in my fridge and no other drink, I will drink that Coke, and I’ll eventually find myself wanting another Coke. For example, I bought some berry vodka a few weeks ago (I don’t think I’ll ever be drinking alcohol again. I think even a little alcohol will sink me into a depression), and I bought Coke for it because I REALLY wanted Coke after having drank it so much from it being in my parents’ fridge. So, essentially, because Coke is primarily in my parents’ fridge, that fridge is basically advertising Coke to me constantly, which sounds silly, but the more you see something, the more apt you are to buy it because you’ve heard so much about it. So even though ads have become white noise to us now, our brains are still picking up on these ads, and whatever ones our brains remember the most, those ads are likely going to be the products we buy. We may think we buy something simply because we’ve been perusing the shelves and have seen it, but most of us have likely seen it in an ad first. I know my favorite clothing line, Princess Vera Wang, is at Kohls’ stores, but I first saw it in a magazine and thought the clothes were cute. So it’s now my favorite clothing brand.

Unfortunately, advertising books is not like advertising Coke. For one, you don’t see ads of books on televisions or billboards, unless you’re James Patterson. You may see them on Google, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, or Goodreads, but you’re likely to not even click on them. They’re just white noise to you. So why are ads still being used? Many try to use ads for branding, trying to treat it like Coke, but since these ads are primarily online, no one is going to click on them. Perhaps 1 out of every 100 or 1000 will do it, but those ads are VERY avoidable. Apparently Google ads will work, if you know how to use them, but for those of us who can’t pay for someone to teach us how to use them, we can think of more creative, fun ways to create exposure. We as people don’t like ads. We hate them on our Youtube videos, so we skip those. If we can skip an ad, we will. However, it is primarily the big books that get the ads, so advertisements probably work for those books because they remind people that this popular author’s book is coming out, but ads won’t work for someone who has just started out, like me, so I have to think of other ways to promote myself. Books are not like advertising Coke because, for one, reading is down, competing with other popular forms of media, and people are mainly buying books now through word-of-mouth, or for books that are similar to the previous books they’ve just read.

So what did I do to advertise my book before and after its launch? I set up a cover reveal with Lady Amber, did a bunch of interviews, sent out ARCs, and my publisher sent out some press releases before the book. Now the marketing for the sequel of the second book is going to be MUCH stronger before the launch, but this post will primarily concentrate on what I did on the launch date and after.

So on the launch date, as you know, I bought a blitz from Juniper Grove. This created enormous exposure for my book, and, really, as a first time author with a first book out, you want exposure, exposure, exposure, so that way you can build yourself up like Coke. My publisher also sent out a press release that received enormous attention. There was also a basic press release from YA Interrobang, where my book was with the likes of Veronica Roth’s, Allegiant–so, in that way, I was very lucky. I also won a free three-hour launch party, so I was also lucky, but I won’t have to worry about finding launch parties in the future. So all of this happening on my launch day just skyrocketed exposure to ungodly degrees that I can’t even tell you how many people must know about my book–or, at least, remember it.

But, after the launch date, I also bought a blitz from YA Bound, which still kept the exposure going. It also helps that I have an e-ARC with them for a month, so the adds have been continuing on Goodreads, even though they have been small–however, I have near to 500 adds, and I expect this number to REALLY rise once the e-book is out. What helps exposure even more is having only ONE print book to give away on Goodreads. You should only ever have one on Goodreads so you can use the rest of your print books for more exposure elsewhere. I gave away two print books during my launch party, one will be given away on a blog with good exposure, and another one will be given away during a radio interview I have in December–so, exposure, exposure, exposure. I also have a lot of interviews and guest posts happening during this month, and hopefully I’ll have a radio interview at the end of this month, if things go according to plan. I am also going to go to my local bookstore downtown and talk to the owner about getting my book in that store, and I will then refer him to my publisher. Also, I know When Stars Die was bought at my publisher’s wife’s bookstore, and the person who bought it loves it, and my publisher told me she just couldn’t stop gushing about it, so that really helps.

Another thing I’m doing to keep this exposure going is library visits and school visits. They are not set up yet, but a creative writing teacher at a high school where I live does want me to visit her creative writing class. Another teacher who I knew in my high school also wants to set me up for his economics class (about branding and all that, especially as it relates to my book), and two other English classes. He also wants to refer me to other high schools in the area. My publisher will be giving me materials to help me out with these things. And I should be having a book signing whenever, a radio interview in January, a big read-long on Goodreads in January, among a myriad of other things I’m going to continue to do to keep my book out there and continually increase exposure. And if all goes well, things for me are only going to keep increasing from here. I know it’s a lot on me, but it’s the job of an author, too, to keep marketing. Even if you’re with a big press, you need to also keep marketing your book thereafter. It is YOUR book, after all, so why wouldn’t you want to do everything possible to get it out there? It’s silly to just stagnate.

One last word: Spamming your book will not work. I see lots of others do this on Twitter and elsewhere. Also, I have noticed Facebook author groups where advertising is encouraged do not work. I don’t think they will ever work, so don’t even try. You need to be a lot more creative in getting your book out there. Hopefully I’ll eventually attend conferences and all that, as I know that will help, too.

Do you guys have any questions for me? Also, for readers, what has made you buy a book?

Trapped in the Bell Jar

September 6, 2013 by amberskyef ♥ 5 Comments

Unfortunately in people with mental illness, this is almost impossible to do. — Unfortunately in people with mental illness, this is almost impossible to do, not the words part, but the mood-changing part.

Stars, I am having one heck of a time trying to get myself together. You wouldn’t think I’m a wreck because I’m still doing what I’ve always done instead of letting myself get shot in the trenches of my mind (which is a metaphor I use in “I Am the Bell Jar”), but I’m a serious wreck on the inside. I’m angry all the time, I don’t want anything to do with people at all, and all I want to do is stay in bed and not go to school or work or have anything to do with anything that involves forced interaction. I skipped out on ballet yesterday because I just didn’t want to go. I mean, I know it’ll make me feel better, and rationally I know I love it, but forcing myself to go all the time is emotionally exhausting. Forcing myself to do anything when I’m like this is emotionally exhausting.

I haven’t been writing much in When Stars Rise either. I’ll write in it here and there, but not as consistently, probably because I know putting more work on myself is just going to make me angrier. And it’s not even that I’m doing a whole lot. I’m only taking 9 credit hours this semester and only working about 8-10 hours per week (although this week I’m doing 14, which honestly makes me angrier, but some extra money won’t hurt either, especially because I didn’t have class Monday). It’s like exerting any little bit of energy just makes me angrier and angrier. My anger nearly got the best of me at work Monday because some woman came by, looked at my co-worker and I really funny and wouldn’t stop staring at us, and I called her the b-word to my co-worker when she walked away. She then came back and asked us for the number to the office, and I was terrified that she overheard what I said and was going to call me in. But that wasn’t it at all. She just wanted to inquire about a product or whatever. I know I shouldn’t have said what I said, but any little thing is just setting me off. However, I can’t afford to just take a sojourn from work when I need the money for ballet.

I can’t even care about school. I’m doing my work, yes. I’ve done and read all the research for a paper I’m going to start. I’ve done my geography study guide. I’m doing the reading I’m supposed to do, but I’m very detached from it all, like I don’t care what the outcome of all of it is.

I’m just tired of it all.

And then there is the matter of my meds. My Abilify was boosted, but I don’t notice any changes. My pdoc then wants to wean me off all the meds I’m currently on and have me just on Lamictal because it’s supposed to be this great med for bipolar. But I’m terrified that it won’t work. I know I shouldn’t be thinking of ‘what-ifs’ but it’s so easy for people to say that when they’re not the ones affected by it. I mean, upping my Abilify doesn’t seem to have worked. It took less than a week for Abilify to originally work, and now it’s been a week and I don’t notice any changes. I’m still angry and still depressed. And maybe I am angry for a reason. I just don’t know what that reason is.

But it’s not all bad. I did a guest post and an interview. When Stars Die has 5 stars on Goodreads so far, even though I don’t have that many ratings. And “I Am the Bell Jar” is ready for publication in AEC Stellar’s upcoming anthology. But to be honest, all this social media stuff is exhausting too because it is so difficult for me to find people who will interview me or let me do guest posts. I’ve contacted well-known blogs about doing an interview, but it’s been over a week, and NONE of them have gotten back, and I must have contacted over 20 bloggers. I just want to give up because I can’t do this on my own. I really can’t. But then maybe I’m not in my right mind to be saying that. I don’t know.

Mental Health Update

August 17, 2013 by amberskyef ♥ 8 Comments

I just want you all to know that it might be some time again before I do a serious blog post, mostly because I think I am becoming depressed again. I am not certain, but I feel it and have seen no signs of cessation. The diminishing of my appetite is often a serious sign that something is wrong, but until I get my head screwed on straight, the only writing I’ll be doing is outlining for an SNI (shiny new idea) and writing for When Stars Rise. Otherwise, it might be a few more days. I do know what I want to blog about, but I just don’t have it in me to blog about it. It’s too much for me right now. Heck, everything is too much for me right now, but I’ve got to keep coping and not succumb to this possible depressive episode.

I can tell you, however, that the next post will be about where I want to go with my writing–I want to take my writing to a more literary level. Less genre. My SNI will be included in the post.

In Honor of Mental Health Awareness Month

June 13, 2013 by amberskyef ♥ 7 Comments

May is Mental Health Awareness Month, and I had no idea. I should have known, but I guess with being so busy with all this ballet and writing-related stuff, the world has passed me by. But I’ve been more mood swingy lately, and I’m not sure what’s going. Earlier today I broke down crying because I felt so bad, but now I feel fine–I think. Is all this busyness catching up to this fragile mind, or is Mother Nature about to send me her Gift, even though I don’t think I’m due for this said Gift for another month? I don’t know, but I have a psychiatrist’s appointment next month, so if it continues, I’m just going to try not to let it get to me. I might sleep in later tomorrow. That might help. I might slow down tomorrow too, take a walk on the treadmill–I get to see Man of Steel tomorrow night! Huzzah! But if my mood is about to take a turn for the worst, I don’t want to let it overpower me because I simply can’t because I have this life now, this career I want to develop, and a client who depends on me to whip his manuscript into shape. And I will do it.

But I wanted to write about the breakdown that landed me in my first psychiatric hospital in honor of Mental Health Awareness Month. I’ve never talked about it for reasons I can’t even think of, so I might as well finally talk about it.

It probably started some time last summer. My body was giving me grief in ballet. I’d be in so much pain during barre exercises that I couldn’t move anymore. My sleep also became spotty. Some nights I’d fall asleep just fine, and other nights it would take hours. I struggled with unrefreshed sleep already because I’d wake up frequently throughout the night and then go back to sleep, but it happened maybe once or twice a week. Those times sucked because I’d have to pretty much take bed rest due to pain from unrefreshed sleep. Eventually I thought I had gotten my sleeping problem under control, until the fall came, and, out of nowhere, I just couldn’t fall asleep.

I’d lie in bed for hours, unable to get myself tired enough to fall asleep, so I’d sleep like maybe four hours a night, and even then they were four hours of unrefreshed sleep. I finally got fed up and got some Tylenol PM, which did help, but the damage was already beginning. In spite of sleeping well, or seemingly well, I was moody and couldn’t understand why. It was also flare season for my fibromyalgia, so I was in pain everyday, but I couldn’t fight it like I was able to when it first emerged, probably because I realized fibro is forever. About once every week or two weeks, hypomania would claim me, which didn’t make sense to me because I felt so euphoric but my sleep was crap.

I didn’t start becoming suicidal until the crashes from hypomania. I had felt so great then and kept wondering why I couldn’t re-claim that feeling, why I couldn’t simply get over the thick despair choking me. My fibro flares weren’t helping either. I just couldn’t believe that the illness was forever, that I was always going to be in pain, and it didn’t help that I was working a lot while going to school, so the stress just made me a ticking time bomb.

My parents also think the Lyrica I was on at the time may have had something to do with the suicidal feelings, and that could have been it–at first. Lyrica can be used to treat bipolar disorder, so I suppose it’s a possibly it could have had an adverse effect on my mental health. I was breaking down though. I probably broke down at least three times a week, where I’d cry alone in my room and sometimes cut to stop the pain that made no sense to me.

Eventually my friend found my Tumblr and contacted the guidance counselors, who contacted the dean because they can’t force me to see them since their appointments are scheduled. So I saw the dean of students who was genuinely concerned about my mental health as a person, not just a student. She encouraged me to see the school counselor, even though I was waiting on the referral to see a psychiatrist. She also became my ally, my advocate. So I decided to see a guidance counselor who, because of my suicidal feelings, thought it was best I not be alone for the weekend since my parents were going to visit my brother.

My fiancé stayed with me, and I felt horrible the entire weekend. I seriously considered swallowing a bottle of Unisom sleep gels because I couldn’t take the pain anymore and couldn’t stand waiting to see a psychiatrist. I skipped out on work Sunday not only because my stomach felt horrible but because the stress from this undiagnosed mental illness just debilitated me. It was then that I decided the best thing for me would be hospitalization because it would get me in to see a psychiatrist and would get me started on a proper course of treatment. Plus, it would keep me safe from myself, and I figured it’d be a good place to “detox” from the Lyrica.

But, of course, things were not so simple. The Remeron I was prescribed launched me into a severe manic episode. I should have known something was wrong when I felt immediately better THE NEXT DAY after taking it. So it was probably within a week I went manic, and I was manic for the next two weeks before finally being hospitalized again because the psych appt. the first hospital scheduled me was too far out. But I suppose the good thing about going manic on Remeron was that I received what I’m sure is the right diagnosis because antidepressants don’t make you manic unless you’re predisposed to bipolar disorder, or so it’s believed. Wellbutrin, a med I took a few months ago, also made me manic, but it took longer to do so.

But I’m in therapy now and on meds that I pray aren’t crapping out on me. I’ll just have to really gauge my mood now, which is what sucks about bipolar disorder. It’s often a life-long illness and any change in mood that happens for seemingly no reason makes you alarmed.

What should I do if my boyfriend is diagnosed with Schizophrenia or Bipolar disorder?

May 30, 2013May 30, 2013 by amberskyef ♥ 9 Comments

This is really cruel advice. Are we suddenly unlovable because of our illnesses? Are we suddenly not worthy of attention, affection, or love because of a chance of relapses? What are you trying to get at by telling people to abandon us?

This advice sickens me. If you really think you can’t handle a relationship with a mentally ill person, fine, but to tell everyone to leave us mentaly ill sufferers is cruel and damning. I wouldn’t have been able to survive my bipolar depression without my fiancé and he not once ever considered me a burden because he loves me. And I am the same with him when he finds himself depressed from time to time.

I am treated, I am stable, I have value, I am worthy of love and attention, and I deserve someone who is willing to love me no matter what, and I have found that with my fiancé.

So what this person should really do is assess whether or not he/she is strong enough to handle the difficulties. If you really love your boyfriend, you’ll stick around. If not, leave, you don’t deserve him anyway. Your boyfriend deserves someone who is willing to stick around in spite of the difficulties, and if you can’t do that, then leave. Bye-bye. You won’t be missed. Now unless your boyfriend is unwilling to seek help that is a different story, but if he is doing all he can and you’re not willing to help, he won’t be missing much.

Maniac Fire

By Anonymous

I as a person with bipolar disorder. I would tell you to break up with your boyfriend, heartbreaking as that would be, if you are in a relationship that could potentially lead to marriage.
Bipolar and schizophrenia are such seriously disruptive disorders that it is absolutely certain that you will endure major difficulties and will watch your boyfriend suffer– it is a permanent illness and while managing the condition is very possible, a great many sufferers lapse in taking their (vital) medications.
Your relationship will be strained; life will not be very much fun over long-ish stretches of time. Your boyfriend’s capacity to work may well be hampered. I think most sufferers would agree that these are really, really tough chronic illnesses. You are young, and free, and will have the opportunity for a straight-forward relationship with another man. Get out now.

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On Being a Busy but Emotionally Compromised Writer

May 20, 2013May 20, 2013 by amberskyef ♥ 18 Comments

I feel very emotionally compromised as I write this. Out of respect, I won’t go into details, but I’m hurting a lot right now, and I don’t want to hide this because I want to be the one author who is out in the open with all her followers. I don’t want to hide behind some guise of perfection. If I’m hurting, I want you guys to know so I don’t seem so elusive or out of reach. But, yes, my heart is killing me in ways it never has before. I’ve always been sensitive, but I used to be able to temporarily swallow problems and deal with them when they needed to be dealt with. Now I can’t do that, and I’m not sure why this is. Is it because I’m afraid of pain now because I’m so tired of hurting that when I do start hurting my brain goes into overdrive? I don’t know, but I woke up this morning wanting to cry and I still feel like I want to cry and I hate it. I hate hurting. I hate hurting this much because it’s now affecting my ability to get stuff done. For God’s sake, it’s my day off and I had stuff planned and I’m finding it hard to do and it makes me angry because I want to get this stuff done but I’m hurting. I’m not even hungry for anything, and my Abilify has given me a ridiculously healthy appetite, so much so that instead of gaining weight, I have lost it (I’m a tiny girl to begin with) because now I’m eating breakfast since I’m hungry for it and it’s jump-starting my already high metabolism.

This is the bad thing about being so sensitive: your emotions hit you really fast and all at once. You feel crippled by them and it’s so hard to stabilize yourself until the problem is resolved the way you want it to be. But, yes, this pain is too painful and I really just want to update on my writing life.

So in spite of this crippling hurt, I’m going to finish my Stolentime chapter. I may not be able to write another one, but I will finish the one I started yesterday. I also have 34 reviewers so far interested in reviewing When Stars Die and I am still seeking more. I will also start looking for blogs for a blog tour (and I will make my minion, my contract manager, contact them *evil laugh*). I’m also going to create a blogging schedule so I can get back into a routine with that because I know that you guys enjoy what I write. I’m also going to start planning a story in the Stars world, but with a completely different character and story. I’m going to put it on my blog and give you guys a taste of the Stars world.

I’m also craving social interaction with writers in my position. I mean personal interaction. It’s great meeting you guys online, but I am a social bug by nature. My writer’s group is great, but they need tips on publishing, how to find publishers, how to publish, not tips on pre-release sells or how authors can interact with audiences, and that’s what I need. Of course, I realize my position is now a special one because I can provide them with that advice, but I need other writers who are published or are getting published, and I have no clue where to even find that. I’m still staying with my writer’s group though because I love the write-ins, but I also know I need more. Perhaps doing readings and having a book release party will help.

My boss also wants to give me more work hours so I can start making sells (my job is a number’s game), but I can’t do that because blogging is part of my job as a writer now and being able to interact with you guys as well as being able to write and edit without so many hours weighing me down. I need my brain to function now.

But, yes, this is just a little bit of what I’ve been up to lately. I hope to have another blog post out tonight. I’ll try to push through.

Guest Blogger: Amber Skye Forbes

May 16, 2013May 16, 2013 by amberskyef ♥ 1 Comment

Here is my guest post on Charles Yallowitz’s blog!

Legends of Windemere

Today’s guest blogger is Amber Skye Forbes, who is both a writer and a dancer. How’s that for talent? She is an amazing woman, who has taken on a very difficult question for this guest blog. I’m very honored that she agreed to do this. Please, check out her blog and get to know her.

The question: Do you think art in any form is a healing and coping method for mental illness?

Without further ado, here is Amber Skye Forbes:

Mental illness is an incredibly difficult thing to deal with. It can be terrible too. I have bipolar Type I, and the depression was the hardest thing for me to treat. Mania only takes a mood stabilizer, but that pill doesn’t always want to treat depression. But I am stabilized now and feeling better than ever. Of course, during this time, I wasn’t doing as much art as I…

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Symptoms of Clinical Depression Are Not Romantic for Writers

May 16, 2013 by amberskyef ♥ 15 Comments

“As a writer, I believe depression is necessary. By going through these dark places, we are able to come back and illustrate just how beautiful the light really is.”

I found this post on Tumblr and almost wanted to scream. The poster and I got into a spat and she tried to explain what she actually meant, but anyone reading the above quote is going to get the exact same implication regardless: that depression is being romanticized and only those who are depressed and heal from it can become truly great writers.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong!

I don’t care that the writer told me she meant depressed writers should seek solace in writing and should not take the good days for granted to better their writing because that is not at all what she said in her writing. This is a lesson in writing, that you need to write clearly so there is no miscommunication between you and reader. Granted, even the most obvious sentences can draw miscommunication, but it is not my job as a reader to read your mind in order to understand what you actually meant.

In any case, let’s backpedal to the original statement. I wanted to scream reading this. I will admit upfront my depression influenced the latest book I am working on, but it was not worth being depressed for. I would have traded my depression for anything. However, I might as well use my past experiences with depression to create a story about a treatment-resistant teen that will hopefully inspire teens struggling with depression to seek help. But, again, I neither need nor want depression to create stellar story ideas.

There is nothing romantic about sleeping more than half the day, no longer having the ability to enjoy what you do, being unable to eat because you have zero appetite and can barely eat because your stomach can’t hold much, having breakdowns several times a week, wishing you were dead because the pain feels unending, existing with an unquiet mind that wants to destroy you, and having to work 100x harder than the average person to get anything done. It is grueling, and I would have been happy to give my depression to anyone who feels the need to romanticize it.

You don’t need to go through dark places to understand the light–that cliché bullcrap. You simply need to be sensitive with an honest mind and an honest heart.

When Stars Die did not come out of any depression or even past experiences with depression. Yet, that is, thus far, the best book I have ever written because I used my sensitivity and the humanitarian aspects of myself to create Amelia and her story. I am a naturally sensitive person. Depression has made me more sensitive, but that isn’t a good thing. It’s because I’m still raw, still healing, from being depressed, and depression itself is honestly traumatizing, so I’m still trying to shake that off. The only thing depression has done was inspire a story. It does not influence my writing or my ability to create a troubled teen. It did not make me a better writer or storyteller. It just gave me an idea. That’s it. And I’m pretty sure for most writers struggling with depression or who have struggled, they can attest that it neither made them a good story teller nor a good writer. It might have just given them a story idea.

So the above quote enrages me because now vulnerable teens on Tumblr are going to read that and think depression is somehow romantic.