Something is going on in the inside that comes from the outside.
Like the seasons, you always seem to come back.
For the times I suffered and I thought I was alone, you were there waiting to come back.
Like a wheel going round, but not moving forward they came for you. Trying to cut out with their invisible scalpels what was given to me.
If I can let you go again and again, of course I can let you back in, because this is not mine this, this, is something beyond me. Something beyond you. In fact it’s not about us at all. It’s about speaking without conversing. It’s about talking with the heart rather the head.
This was written when I was having doubt. About myself. About my abilities.
Recently I’ve gone from hope to hopelessness. For the past 17 years I’ve experienced what some would call the paranormal. I’ve documented some of these experiences in this blog. The past eight years I’ve experienced what I thought was telepathy. I started having experiences I could not explain. I was diagnosed Bi Polar in 2003 but a few years after that I realized I think I was misdiagnosed. I had a thyroid that went into hyper thyroid due to a clinic prescribing too much thyroid which mimic the signs of bi polar. I didn’t know it then so I accepted the diagnoses and have been on and off medications that made my life a living hell.
I’ve never talked with my psychiatrist about the telepathy for fear of being diagnosed sczhophrenic. I don’t hear voices, I get feelings in my body when it feels like the telepathy is there. I could get deep in a meditative trance and suddenly it felt like someone was there. Cannabis has always helped me in meditation as it helped me to deeply relax.
I’ve documented in my hand written journal all that has happened to me that made me sure I was gifted with some type of paranormal ability. This connection at first made me really scared. Not of the telepathy but more scared about how it was happening. I pushed it away. I tried not to believe it. I at times was manic and recieving so much information that I thought my brain would explode. I also have lucid dreams of this person (who shall remain namesless).
I was told in the 90’s by a friend who was a well respected psychic and channeler that I should attend one of psychic friends meetings. I was confused why he wanted me there. Once in the meeting, I was told by several others that I had a gift, but I didn’t know I had it or how to use it.This was the reason for my depression. I wasn’t using my gifts. It took 15 more years until my abilities become to show. I believe using cannabis helped as it opened my mind to new things and different ways to see the world. I don’t talk to dead people. I don’t believe I am a medium but I do believe in mediumship. I’ve had too many readings where relatives that passed on gave me messages through mediums. As much as I believe in these abilities I was a skeptic within myself.
It wasn’t until 2012 when the telepathy hit me hard. A man I have never met but have communicated in real life started being in my mind all the time. I tried to understand why I was thinking of him often. It came on strong and hard. At that time, in the begginning, I was not questioning it. I just went with the flow. As time passed it slowed down, but it was stronger than ever. I can’t begin to type out all the incidents that happened or were given to make me believe in myself. Never being able to talk about something to your friends and family without sounding absolutely insane takes a toll. Especially not being able to talk about it with the other. When I talk about it to my Mother she listens but it sounds so ridiculous. The man I have telepathy with has never validated me in real life, but things happened in the other realm that were hard for me to ignore.
Two years ago I went to a medium I really respect. He knew nothing of my situation. He did a tarot reading. He said: “You embraced something five years ago you didn’t want to embrace. You made a good decision.” I decided maybe God or the Universe had gifted me with something extraordinary so I went the other way. I decided to embrace it. Why not try to believe it? So I decided to believe in it since not believing in it made me unhappy. This is what the medium saw. He indicated that I should never go back to doubt and keep embracing it no matter what others think or what I doubt.
I don’t hear voices. It’s more like simultaneous thought. In psychic development classes they train you to notice changes in your body when you are with spirit. For example, when working with spirit guides,they will often give you signals in your body. A touch. A jerking. It’s different for everyone. Well when I’m communicating with the other I often feel little jerks in my left leg. (I realize that sounds nuts!) But this is the way it can happen. An additional sign that something is there.
The heart wrenching part of having the belief that one has a special ability is that if there is no real validation from the other, the mind becomes confused. It’s a matter of faith. To believe in something you can’t explain takes courage and hard work. The love for this person has grown with time, yet the person never shows up.
Today as I write this, I’ve been worried it will go away. Yet again as much joy as it brings me it also brings the pain of longing for this person. Maybe God will take away my love for this person as it’s causing me suffering. I don’t really mean that.
I’m abnormal. Maybe my paranormal is not normal.
I feel so empty and hopeless. The very thing that changed my life for the better, I’m afraid has left me. Being abandoned is one of my biggest fears. When it tries to come through maybe I should ignore it although I don’t want to. When my life is dark, I could always lay down and get into trance and there he was. Someone other worldly, caring for you. (Although since this is not a ghost he is not always there because he is alive and has a life outside this) That sounds crazy.
I wonder is this as good as it gets? 57. Alone. Destined to get old without the love of someone who loves me in an other worldly way. A person inside who knows me better than myself, is an extraordinary feeling, yet no one is coming to prove me right. This is what I prayed for over and over that what I thought was happening was really real. To know myself so well and to be able to say, oh my God I was right. Telepathy is real. To say “I had faith and it turned out to be real” would feel amazing.
The only real thing in my life is illness and maybe just an active fantasy life. Still there are so many things I can’t write here that proved I was going in the right direction. If some screenwriter got a hold of my journals there would be an amazing and miraculous story there within the trauma I’ve suffered. (A whole other story)
God only knows what I will be when I’m 77, reading my old journals and realizing how wrong and ridiculous I was.
Maybe this is schizophrenia after all. My heart is broken. It’s like God went out of his way to give me gifts and then decided to take them back.
And if you are reading this and you know it’s you I speak of, please for God sake, let it be true that it’s you.
As I read this again today, I realize this connection has not gone away. My lesson here is to learn to accept that which is given to us and be patient for an outcome. Everything changes. There will be a day when I know the truth, for now I am grateful for what I’ve got.
It seamed like an improbable love, something almost scientific about it. Predictable yet like nothing anyone has heard of. Full of wonder. Grace.
She knew he wasn’t going anywhere after eight years of it. This thing they do. How they met. How it all still feels like a waking dream. Another dimension. Like finding a face in a lil fluffy cloud. It’s there but not exactly. It’s the observer that matters…..Like a light catcher catching your eye at just the right time. As easy as Sunday morning. As difficult to put into words as the look on your newborns face when he finally opens her eyes.
She can do a thing she never knew she could do.
She woke up one day and there was a male energy around her she recognized. Quite stunned was she wondering how he got there. Quietly during meditation he came in. He can think to her. She learned to listen and think back. This took years. She’s documented the years of their meetings. The entries full of skepticism and hopelessness. Of hope and light. Then one day she embraced that which God, if there was one, gave her. She began to care less about how it was happening and more concerned on what he needed from her. Why was he here? What did he have to tell and teach her?
Where was this going? has always been the hard problem. The hardest problem is to stay faithful to it and ride it out like an experiment. Be true to the person who is reaching you. because you love them unconditionally.
You can only feel messages, there are no voices with telepathy because you think and feel each other. This is the thing she did with him. And while they remain quiet to themselves and grow, something wonderful is about to happen.
This adventure into the depths of their minds continued to evolve.
Although she must conceal it because no one believes her, the most important key to growth is to believe herself. No one could have ever made this up.
No man or woman on Earth have ever found each other telepathically.
“The suspense is killing me. I hope it lasts.”
and if she is wrong about it all, then at least she has a friend in Jesus.
(It is difficult to talk about trauma and even harder to type it out. Thus why this may read badly)
Firstly I would say you have been the most decent psychiatrist I’ve had. You are kind, cooperative and open. It’s taken a long time to get to this high level of health (other than psychiatric drug side effects)
Thank you. I would like to continue to see you as I feel respect for you, despite the things I will question in this letter. I hope this will help me express my feelings since I have so little time in session with you.
I’m very puzzled why my diagnoses has changed from bi polar to Schizoaffective psychosis. I saw the new label on the blood work paper you sent.
Unless it was just a typo, which means, I should stop typing now.
I felt safe mentioning my interest in telepathy because you thought taking psychic development classes was a good idea when I mentioned it. You actually encouraged it. I even jokingly ask “so I’m not schizophrenic or anything?” (Loss of personal power) and your reply was “no.” I was surprised and happy you said this. You seemed to have an open mind and because of this I took it a tiny bit further and spoke on telepathy. Believe me, I’ve learned to censor myself with past Drs because they misunderstand my life. After seeing you for two years, I felt you were more open. Like synchronicity. Coined by Carl Jung. I’m interested in these unexplainable things that happen to me since I was child and never has it caused my quality of life to suffer.
This telepathic feeling started 8 years ago at 49 and believe me, I’ve documented it as a researcher would. I was not on meds most of my life and I was not then. If you could spend more time talking to me, maybe at least 30 minutes, compared to the 5 minutes you give me, you would know that I don’t take myself that seriously, Of course “normal” society will always laugh at someone who says this, as does psychiatry see it as delusions and diseased. I don’t always believe I have telepathy, it just happens sometimes like deja vu. That’s not a mental condition is it?
I actually I spend more time doing other things in my day, then lay around talking to someone who is not there. (Which I still do at times in meditation)
I care for my elderly Mother, I care for my little Grandchildren. I write, I have journaled everything that has happened to me since 1994. I have a blog with over 200 essays, much about the trauma from this profession has done to me. I like to think I can experimenting and think on unusual events. It’s my brain after all. What I do with it and how I think and imagine is not a disease unless it’s causing me suffering. I’m a Buddhist. I know about suffering.
Drs make me suffer.
I even Volunteered for years distributing items for needy Mothers no did I go around telling my clients what’s in my mind. Isn’t that sanity?
I do have some sort of telepathy but it does not control my life. I’m too self aware and intelligent to do that because it does feel crazy. I make up my own mind when I choose to be interested in something. It’s a fringe hobby, sometimes it’s real. I still hang out with friends and learn about physics, something I wish I was smart enough to study in University. Why your profession is not investigating this instead of drugging people, you may a grander profession working with something new.
Regardless Who why have changed my label? ……And without discussing it with me? I’ve never asked about this new label. It might have been a mistake on paperwork.
I’ve carried the stigma of bi polar from when I was misdiagnosed in 03. Something you have refused to understand about me. When I start talking about it I am always interrupted.
I’ve been wrongly labeled for 17 years and now the whole medical system will see me as schzoaffective disorder. I will be further stigmatized. Even the government sees this label. It’s just a label some would say. It is not. It’s not private. It goes everywhere. Even if you want a job. I do not want attending a psychic development class or my interest in mediums (some are friends) to stamp a label on my head as a delusional person. I’m not a disease.
Is someone mentally ill if they talk to Jesus or pray or believe in chakra healing?
Where does this stop?
This is all subjective.
I’m looking for that kind of Dr. that can weigh the patients sane behavior against the DMVS or whatever that book is called, which by the way is the most dangerous book on the planet. Labeling every human trait as illness.
When I saw that label it hurt me to the core and further added more shit onto of my trauma. It underpins everything about me.
It attacks my faith.
My intuition and my believe in myself.
My self confidence.
It honestly made me feel extreme hopelessness. That no one is listening to me.
I feel like I’ve been bullied by every other terrible Dr. I’ve come in contact with. Triggering. The idea that someone I trusted told me I was not really me. I’m not your other patients. You realize I’m intelligent mentally. You’ve called me very self aware. What you don’t know about is me is that I’m actually a skeptic of telepathy.
There much research being done all over the world on telepathy. There is a whole new group of scientist looking at telepathy and other psychic abilities. Not everyone who is psychic is psychotic. I know a group of a least 50 men and women who attend Progressive Spiritualist Church. A Christian church full of mediums. Many are older than I. The advice I’ve received when I took classes with them was
‘always listen to your intuition.’
Your inner knowingness. I was not taught to hear voices and I never have in my life. Never! But you don’t know that. You are just comparing me to other patients as you do them to me.
(the next part of the letter may not read well because it’s to hard to correct or re read stories of the horrible things that is happened to me. I apologize if it’s not correct)
I also was never diagnosed with anything until the bad thyroid mess in 2003 at 40, where I was misdiagnosed bi polar in 15 minutes in an ER. No blood work. No medical history. Later I found the bottle of thyroid medication I took two weeks before the ER visit. It showed a mistake made by a local clinic where they changed my dosage. I had a thyroid storm going on. I did not know this at the ER. I took them for 8 years. Not being able to get off cold turkey.
I got off meds on my own in 2011. It was hell but I got through withdrawal to go back to the real me. I was fine for two years, when I had a bladder condition that put me in the ER at St. Vincent’s. They put me on morphine due to the pain but started talking about the fact i was bi polar. (unaware, all the while I had interstitial cystitis) No family member was there to advocate for me.
I woke up drugged on the floor in the stress center for my bladder and they forced drugged me. No Dr. is horrified by my story. No one cares. Psychiatry has harmed me. This is my history, the worst thing in the world that has happened to me. To be pushed around by bad Drs. Years of this. 17 years. You wonder why I have anxiety? PTSD from health care that was suppose to help me. But this new diagnoses is another “rape” of my mind and who I feel I am. Like during that visit was screaming in pain because I needed bladder procedure. I laid on the floor of a room crying when some Dr. apparently not a Urologist said to me.
“Take your pants down and spread your legs.” He was halfway across the room and I thought why do I have to take my pants down? Bladder condition is invisible. You can’t see bladder unless you have the procedure I needed. He looked at my genitals from 6 feet way “Everything looks fine to me.”and left. ? Please try to imagine your patient having this happen to her?
If you actually knew me, what you would see is a smart, self reliant woman who is a creative screenwriter. A thinker. I feeler. I am a woman whose had horrible trauma from psychiatry. The profession MADE me sick. How do we know it isn’t these meds that’s making me have psychos? What if the anti psychotics are actually making me think I might be telepathic? Let’s just say someone does not have bi polar and starts taking his friend’s meds? What would it do to the person’s brain if they were not bi polar? This is my point. Please do not traumatized me further by labeling me again. I do not feel or have the symptoms of a person with schizophrenic behaviors. I would please like you to change it back to bi polar please. Or better yet someday. Get me off meds and take the bi polar label off my forehead.
What I would like, together with you, is to concentrate on weaning me off lithium and zyprexa before my kidney’s fail or I get diabetes due to obesity. I desire to focus on getting off. These drugs are damaging my body and mind. The long term side effects are dangerous, as you know. I’m willing to take a year or two to wean off. I’d like you, my doctor to help me through it. I would never go off meds on my own. That’s why I need your help. Which also proves there is nothing wrong with me except, loneliness and past trauma that I get through with by meditating and keeping God near me and keep the faith.
Anytime I write about the trauma of the psychiatric system, not only am I triggered by reliving and rewriting these things. My writing is not very good so I apologize if this is hard to read.
Psychiatric drugs are killing people. Mostly from side effects and often by suicide which is a side effect of the drugs.
Imagine that. You feel suicidal and they give you drugs where one side effect is suicidal ideation. They are designed to be horribly difficult to get off of. Terrible withdrawals. Is the pharmaceutical industry trying to dumb down millions of Americans? I’m personally afraid for my life in that these drugs have affected my health. I’m near diabetic. I’ve gained so much weight from them, I’m obese. They can cause kidney failure. The list goes on and as I type this and am weaning off slowly my anti psychotic because my doctor refuses to help me. I was misdiagnosed bi polor in 2003 but I’m still fighting the system to get me off these poisons..
No one also does not want to walk into a psychiatrist’s office like your just a lump of meat with a label on your forehead given to you by same psychiatrists. (Educated Bully)
My goal is to get off this medication I should have never been on in the first place. Stuck in a system with a Bi Polar diagnoses that I shouldn’t have been given in the first place.
Sitting in a blood lab waiting room, I look down at the paper work from my psychiatrist and see at bottom.
Diagnoses: Sczhoaffective Psychosis. What in the hell? Where did this come from?
As if I’m not already living the dangerous side effects of these dangerous drugs, that have suicide as a side effect. Hmmm? You’re suicidal so you ask your Dr. for a drug to help but it has suicidal ideation as side effect…..I have to be bullied by some Dr. who you are stuck in a relationship with because you can’t stop your meds cold turkey or it’s death and insanity due to the withdrawal. But you can’t get off them because his job is to tell you that you need them. Without you what what he be. Without a job I hope.
I rarely tell my shrink about my spiritual life. He actually doesn’t really want me to speak. When he asks “how I am?” I must answer in three sentences or he interrupts me. Once last year I told him I took a psychic development class. I mentioned I felt telepathic. He encouraged me to keep taking the classes.
So was it this one thing I said once is why he changed my diagnoses? Without telling me? Why? How would he know me since he does not talk to me. He just pushes pills.
What he really did was stamp a disease on my head another one! I don’t fucking deserve. He did me harm. He shot my God. He said without words “you are diseased. You can’t trust your own mind. Your own heart. Jesus hates you and there is no God. DO YOU HEAR ME, you were not created in the image of anything and you are meat on a skeleton stick that I can drug and take advantage of.
Imagine if Sir Issac Newton was drugged for thinking out of the box?
How many humans with amazing potential are drugged and right now they just sit in their living room watching cable and over eating because they feel and think nothing anymore?
Horrifying.
Our next genius may have been dumbed down already.
Can’t begin to think what they would have done to Jesus if he hadn’t be crucified him and they had these drugs. If Jesus came back, I’m pretty sure they psychiatric industry would like to get at him.
I’ve been journaling my most wonderful lucid dreams since 1993. I know dreams.
I know what lucid dreams are.
I know what nightmares are.
I know what astral travel is.
Believe me when I say I know the difference, but what just happened has NEVER happened to me.
I’ve come to the conclusion after consulting several mediums over the decades that I have a special gift I was afraid to use. I believed them, but never really believed them. Which is why they often said “the teacher will appear when the student is ready.”
I never told any Doctor about these experiences because I know what I would get and it would not be good.
In last few years I’ve had many bad dreams. I pray before I sleep. I put protection around me. I’ve heard the baby voice of my Granddaughter before she was born. All these things are no surprise anymore. One thing that has happened occasionally has been very frightening. Something or someone pulls my light down comforter off me while I sleep. It always woke me and up frightened me to no end. My comforter was still there. I always assumed it was something evil maybe or maybe not. As time went on, I felt, maybe it’s some energy that needed my attention. I’ve never liked it. The way I tried to stop it was to put my Grandmother’s hand stitched quilt over my comforter before sleep. It made it heavier. It never happened when I did this.
Last night I did not put her quilt on.
About an hour ago as I write this at 6:30 am, the most extraordinary multi dimensional occurrence happened.
At 3am I heard a doorbell go off. It woke me from sleep. It was not mine because I have a chime doorbell. It scared me a bit. I got up and got a drink of water and back to bed. Now I realize that bell was heralding an event that was soon to happen.
About a 1/2 ago, I was sleeping on my left side. Suddenly the covers were pulled off slowly but more in a precocious way. I did not wake up but I was scared. I didn’t turn over but for first time, I bravely reached back behind me. I found the legs of a tiny girl. I was not awake but I was not dreaming. I could touch her legs. The room was dark as I was still in my bed. I tried to move my mouth to tell the little girl I was frightened. No sound would come out.
I realized afterwards she was communicating with me telepathically. She played on my bed and ask me to come with her. I could not really see her face but she was sweet. I kept saying I was scared. She was nearly 4. She wanted me to pick her up so I knew she was not a bad thing. I did. She weighed only 5 pounds. We jumped off my bed and in telepathic thought she said, “come with me!” I was really not in control of my body and things were moving so fast that I had no time to wake myself up.
Suddenly I was in my apartment but not my apartment in a parallel dimension. There were two women there getting breakfast ready. The kitchen was beautiful. A futuristic counter top with a shiny green cook top stood out. The colors were intense!
I cowered in the corner and tried to talk again. I still could not get words out. They acknowledged that they knew I was frightened and put me at ease by going about their morning routing. Cooking breakfast. The little girl wanted to play. They laughed and said she is such a little silly thing.
I was back in my bed before I knew it without anytime to realize what just happened. I fell back asleep again. I don’t know how much time passed, but again here goes my comforter again. Pulled back slowly and I thought “Oh good God, what in the world is this?”
“Come play again!” She thought to me. “I’m still confused and scared” I thought to her. This time we talked about stuff on my bed but did not talk. I did ask her for her name to try to help myself through this. She thought it to me, but I can’t remember now. I believe it started with an S. She coxed me out of bed again and we entered into another house which was mine but not mine. This time there were several beds in the place and it seemed like a bunch of young guys lived there. I ask her where we were. She said the dimensions were 64th & College. I use to live there a long time ago but it was not the place I remembered. I met her Mother again but in another way.
Then I drifted back to the darkness of my own room. I was already awake. I lay there for several minutes trying to understand what just happened. I even text my sister since she loves this kind of stuff. I finally found out who the little sprite was that had been pulling my covers off for years. She was getting me ready for this experience.
I am absolutely 100% convinced this was travel to another dimension. No doubts whatsoever. I have astral projected in past without trying and met beings up above who looked like us and who helped me when I was very ill in my mind.
This was not that.
I know it’s unbelievable and sounds crazy but if this happened to you, you would be as stunned and overwhelmed and delighted as I am. I have been having Earthly nightmares for so long, that I think that was preparing me to recognize something I had never known.
I’m listening to Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s The Nutcracker as I type this. This music is my go to calm down magic potion to handle the BIG BIG things my body mind and heart goes through. I can say this was one of the most extraordinary occurrences I’ve ever experienced. There are parallel dimensions and other worlds. There is no doubt in my mind. None.
If there is one person to take you to a place that could make you rethink reality, it is a child.
Gosh I hope she comes back.
Thank you Jesus for making me into a psycho-naught.
Not the end. The beginning.
Real time update:
At 5:30 pm about 12 hours since the experience an old friend named Jen just called. That long time college friend that you have talked about synchronicity and spirituality until your blue in your face. We have been weaned on Deepak Chopra. We can say the wackiest things to each other and both totally get it. If someone like the CIA was listening into our call, they would have said..
Those bitches be cray cray.
She asked what had happened because she didn’t get to this post but saw I had put it up. I proceeded to tell her exactly what I wrote above. I mentioned that I ask the little girl what were the “coordinates” of where we were. She had said “64th & College.” My old apartment building with a Jiffy Lube next door.
My friend gasped and then laughed. Guess where I am? I’m at 64th and College!!
What are the odds? Honestly?
We sat on phone quiet and said, “something is happening.” Do you feel it?
I said yes, like a polar shift or gravitation energy and Jesus coming back. 🙂
I spoke to another friend today for an hour who also said something is shifting. We talked about woo woo. The only word to describe the stuff with no words. She said “you are the only person I know who will talk about this stuff.”
We ain’t crazy. We are enlightened women in our middle age whose been waiting for the spiritual changes we’ve know about for two decades. A good shift.
The Age Of Aquarius is finally coming to age.
Yes. I admit I love woo woo stuff. I feed off it.
Back story. Remember the last 7 years I’ve been plagued by nightmares and bad sleep. I’ve also complained of a bad mattress, but mostly I just wanted God or whatever to stop my nightmares. (Which I have not had in days which is not normal) With that…….
Jen gasped again and stated “omg Deb, there is billboard across the street. I have to take a picture.”
To add to the woo woo, she said “look at the address.” It’s Mitch’s apartment. It was the address next door to her ex husband who was texting me when we were on the phone.
Whhaaat?
Yes I can say last night I traveled first class.Â
Without me explaining the tri fold synchronicity I would say this is 5th dimension synchronicity…. that doubled upon itself with the help of another enlightened one. Can anyone see the like a multi dimensional time travel coincidence that is not a coincidence with a punch line on the in this?
See if you can feel what I’m talking about.
If you can’t then, oh well.
Go try to meditate. 😀
I’ll sign off here as “What’s the Frequency Kenneth” begins to play.
I just want to say in advance. I do have a very clever Psychiatrist now. It took 15 years to find one that did not scare me.
Just wanted to make that plain. Not all Dr’s are bad.
Update. As of March 2021 that doctor is gone.
Back into the pit of snakes that want to wrap themselves around me. None will help free me from this medication that is almost impossible to withdrawal from.
I’m going to try to make this short because writing over and over about this topic triggers terrible PTSD and trauma for me.
I was introduced to psychiatric drugs in 92. I was 29. I just had a baby. I experienced post partum depression. At 6 weeks out my OB/GYN who had been sold the new drug Prozac by Eli Lilly here in my hometown of Indiana. If I were smarter and knew what I know now I would have refused. I’d had no mental health problems all my life. He handed me a script for it and said “you have to take this the rest of your life.” What the fuck? Why. Sadly I believed him. I took it and it helped for a short time. Then they switch to Zoloft. I became manic. I didn’t even know what that meant. I did things I would never do and the worst most horrific truth of that side effect, I left my husband. He was a wonderful man. I became a monster due to these drugs.
Skip to 2003 I was misdiagnosed on a violent ER in Seattle. In 10 minutes the doctor said I had bi polar. What was actually happening was my thyroid condition had been overdosed by a clinic. The symptoms I had in ER were actually from having my thyroid put into hyper thyroid. They never ask about my thyroid. They never gave me a blood test. Because of my thyroid blowing up, I had suicidal ideation. I didn’t know what was happening to me. I was thrown into a ER cell in psych area and left to piss on myself and they committed me to the psych ward at Harborview Hospital. I felt like I was in some kind of conspiracy. I experience torture and hallucinations as the drug Lithium and others they gave me kicked in. I was lobotomized. I couldn’t question what was happening to me. I had no advocate. This started a decade of abuse by psych wards and psychiatrists. Horrific things happened to me as my mind began to stop working. When I told my boyfriend at the time that I wanted off this shit, when I would stop taking it, cold turkey, which i had no idea was dangerous, my mind became worse. This the horrors of these meds. The minute you stop taking it, the withdrawal symptoms become so horrific that the dr. insists you take it. “The reason you feel bad is because you stopped your medications.” This IS CRIMINAL. I’m not a violent person but looking back on what they did to me and my life, I’d like to blow the brains out of these monster Drs. No maybe what is a better revenge is to force them to take the drugs they forced on me when I was not mentally ill. I lost my home again. My boyfriend lied to police and put me in jail when I was withdrawaling from the meds.
During 2003 to 2011 I was put on at least 20 different anti psychotic meds. They would change them every other month. My insurance forced me to the haunted house psychiatry group. They would give me a different doctor everytime. Once I gave a history to a 22 intern. I talked about these dreams nice dreams I had had of Eddie Vedder since 93. Later I saw my medical records and it said “patient thinks she is talking to Kurt Cobain from the grave.” OMG? Once I saw another new asshole and when he walked in he had a 2 inch thick file on me. I said hello. He just starred at me. I ask, well what do you think today about me. “I know one thing, he said, “you are completely delusional.” He had never seen or spoken to you. I told him to fuck off and left his office in tears.
I was off meds for almost 2 years from 2011 to 2013. I got my body back. I could write again but the long term taking of these drugs can cause withdrawal symptoms for years. I honestly believe I have been part of some mass conspiracy to poison millions of people that never needed these drugs.
I ended up with a bladder condition, called Interstitial Cystitis. A painful chronic spasm of the bladder with no cure only yearly surgery. I didn’t know what it was. I went to an ER back in Indianapolis. St. Vincent’s Hospital in Indianapolis. The same place I had given birth to my son 20 years before.
They gave me morphine for the pain and then started quizzing me about my “bi Polar” and why I was not on meds. I told them they made me sick. They thought I was just looking for pain meds. No urologist checked me. Something bad happened. (I can not say at this time what happened but lets just say, it felt like I had a baby) They left me alone in a room in stirrups and water was flowing out of me. I try not to remember that.
When that was over, They locked me in the room and all the machines were going off beeping like a distraction and outside the room I heard a terrible racket. Like there were people shooting other people with some kind of pop gun. By then the morphine had worn off. Doors were slamming. People were yelling. Then they came back into room and gave me a pill and something to drink. I passed out. The next thing I know I woke up on the floor of their Stress Center. On the floor! Two nurses sat at desk staring at me. I cried out for someone to help me. Why was I there. I had a bladder problem. They forced Haldol on me and I became lobotomized. I had no one to advocate for me.
The last day I was suppose to be there a shit faced fuck head psychiatrist interviewed me. He ask how I was feeling. I told him I was not suppose to be in here. I had a bladder problem. I had been off meds for two years and now I was back on them, having to withdrawal again on my own. Conspiracy? YES.
Then he ask if I had telepathy. lol Do you think I’m going to tell you about my spiritual life? He ask if I could talk to Jesus. I laughed again and said yes, I’m talking to him right now. I had to stand up to this dick head. He hated it. What is wrong with talking to Jesus? He said, “you have to stay three more days and I’m changing your meds.” I stood up and went into main room and screamed “this is criminal! I”m not taking anymore of your poison.” The room and other patients went silent as the grave. A nurse came up to me and whispered, “just take it so you can get out of here.”
The bladder thing and the ER and putting locked up in psych ward happened two more times in next two years.
Jump to today. I’ve been on Lithium for 3 years. I’ve been on Serequel for same amount of time. I started have night terrors every night. My weight went from 160 to 212 which is what I am now. I do like the my Dr. but when I ask him why he kept upping seroquel to fix nightmares that got worse and worse, his ego was deflated so he stopped talking to me. Then he passed me to a sleep dr who saw no nightmares and I told her I was weaning off serequel. She deflected from night mares to my smoking and tried to scare me that I had COPD which I do not. She ordered oxygen at night but nightmares continued. I called the other morning to talk to nurse after waking from horrific night terror and the dead voiced nurse said, “the dr wants a drug screen.” For what? I said. Are you trying to tell me that I’m using crack or cocaine and since she has no fucking idea what to do about my nightmares nor does she call my shrink to say “hey maybe it’s her anti psychotic” (dr.s do not consult with each other) Fucking nightmare. So my sleep dr passed me back to my primary dr. to go to Neuroscience. I have been asking for MRI for two years and NOBODY will look at my brain. I’m sure I have brain damage. What are they afraid of? Back in Seattle years before they gave me a MRI and put a hypnotic suggestion that I had something in brain and then changed their minds. Left me with years of feeling scared that something could be in there. Still live with that but just let the thought pass. What kind of nasty experiment have I been in for years?
I’m actually doing well. I’m weaning myself off serequel. I’ve gone from 200 at night to 50 at night but I’m alone doing it. No one will help me. I’m so traumatized from years of abuse from the medical community. I live alone. I am on disability. I worked all my life. Great jobs. Film sets. Manager. Laser operator. I now am 56 and look to God and ask
What the hell have you let them do to me? Am I in danger still. Does someone want me dead for some reason. Am I the Holy Grail? lol I’m so sad and lonely. I do everything on my own. I pay my rent I can take out my trash, I can watch my little Grandchildren but I’m traumatized.
The way I have adapted is I do feel I have a telepathic connection to two men I know but aren’t here. (that story is private for now) This connection feels like pure protection. I often feel it says to me, don’t worry, we are watching and taking care of you. Jesus is with me too. Perhaps what has happened to me will cause something wonderful to happen and this won’t happened to anyone again.
My inner child is waiting for love. For Prince Charming. The only way my heart can keep going after my life was destroyed by a pill.
If this has happened to you, you are not alone. Below is a link to The Harm Reduction Guide on how to safely go off psychiatric poison.
Science Goes On - A Blind Date With God 
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