Independence Day--July 4th

Happy 4th of July Everyone!

You must remember that because you are able to read this ...You Are Free!

Because I am able to write this blog..I am Free--We Still Have Freedom of Speech!

Bless you all!!

Bipolar Victims: Keep Pressing On!

*** Please watch this video, listen to the words and follow lyrics before you read this. There is not a better video that could describe the true meaning of this post! ***

Special note to my Bipolar Friends:


I was planning this last night and as I started today, I had to take a break. Lot of things happened this morning that gradually started getting me down. In the kitchen I mentioned  “in passing” what I was thinking of writing to my wife, and she said maybe you should title it “One Of Those Days - Take II.
Believe it or not, I almost did!. But I got to thinking about it more and I realized this is the perfect time to write this! I don’t think I could in fairness write this to you unless I am having one of those days myself, and explain how I have to keep going on, like it or not. I want to give you an example of how I live “The other life.”  Remember! The website address for this Blog is:

www.two-lives-one-mind.blogspot.com

This is what it is all about my friends!


I don’t think it matters if you are suffering with bipolar and having minor episodes of depression, or bipolar I like myself with full blown attacks, it is not easy to put on the “mask” and keep going with the normal day-to-day life. The only difference is depending on the level of bipolar you are, the harder it is to pull off. Myself, there are times when I just want to give up for just one day, call it quits and completely shut myself off from everything and everyone. It is so hard!


Please remember this; IF you choose (I KNOW you did or you will not be reading this) to continue to live on this planet with millions of crazy nuts (Hint: They just have not been diagnosed yet -:) or unless you want to be in a mental hospital where they dope you so much you do not know what month it is, thus, never have the hope of getting out, you have to find a way to somehow keep going. You must! There is no other way around it. If you want to continue on with life no matter how you feel, you have to find that one secret that only you know that will help you make it through. Hey, do not for one minute think I am talking about illegal drugs or alcohol, I am talking about YOU and YOU alone achieving more than you or anyone of us will think possible: put on that mask and go on even when you think ‘I quit!’


What I want you to do, is to remember what sincere recovering alcoholic or drug addicts face. I am amazed by their courage.  I honor them for their courage and willpower. I feel for them when they ’slip’ and have to start from day one again. You ask any of them and they can tell you the exact date from years, months, and days. Every day is a battle. Usually when stress overcomes them, it is all they can do to NOT slip, but they keep repeating the date in their minds over and over.


If you read many of the earlier pages, you will get the idea of how bad I was. Nine years ago, it was greater than a 90% chance I would not be sitting at this computer writing to you today. Or, it was probably just a little lower percentage that I would probably be “Locked Up".
 
Now,  there are some blogs I have read from time to time that the writer with bipolar say they are totally cured. I am happy for them. All I know is from the experience of my family (my mom as a perfect example), research, myself, and what the doctors admit to me, Bipolar I or schizophrenia patients like myself may become remarkably better, but there is not one day that one or more symptoms  has not left me. It is always there. Like a recovering alcoholic, every single day is a battle.


Getting back to my theme here, this is what I am faced with. The last page, and this one also, I do not want to speak to anyone. If the phone rings, I will probably not answer it unless it’s a close family member. I would give almost anything in the world to turn the music up am now listening to up, crawl in bed, and lay there until night. It would not take much for a grown man to lay there and cry. My Mind wants to SHUT DOWN the rest of the day hoping tomorrow will be better. But I cannot do it. I have a job to go to, and my family depends on that income. We cannot make it without the income. I am not wealthy by a long shot so any loss of income for any amount of time and we will be.


Now, keep in mind the my feelings I just described. I know in just a little while I have to get ready and go to work. For the last 12 years I have held an extremely stressful job. During a non-stop 9 -11 hours, I will talk to over 80 customers and employees on the phone. I will have to (somewhat cheerfully) talk in person to about 20 people. Almost every single phone call requires some type of action, and most of the time, I have to make a split decision on how to react. A very poor decision could hurt the company or depending on how serious, even my lively hood. I do not want to get dressed. I sit in my room, looking at the clothes I am about to put on for sometimes up to 30 minutes. Then I start slowly getting dressed. Once I am dressed, I am a little better…until I get in the car and head into the office. I start getting depressed again. I try to concentrate on the different things I have to do every night, and though my concentration breaks many times, I picture myself handling situations that “could” come up--some really hard ones. Every day I say a little Prayer, “please help me make it.”


See, here’s what almost no one realizes. With having serious bipolar for years, and my memory is fading, I have to work 3 times harder the other person. I have to keep notes on a legal pad that sits beside me all the time. Sometimes it takes up two full pages. I am involved in meetings every day with about 7 other people in the committee. They rattle of numbers, specific things that happened days ago. I sometimes remember, vaguely, but most of the time I cannot remember who did what the day before.. I make it through the meetings because the majority of the time I can glance at my notes, and assist in planning the future strategies. Then the action starts. Just recently I was told I do an awesome job. BUT what they do not realize it takes every ounce I have to make it through each day. What anyone could do in a few minutes, it takes me twice as long because of the distractions that constantly comes into my mind. By 4 hours, I am pretty much in full swing. I am almost at my game. The problem now is my mind races a hundred miles an hour and I cannot catch up. I, unlike most, have to continually quickly write down the situation I am faced with and prioritize them or I will start on one problem, switch in the middle to another, back and forth so I am not accomplishing anything. About hour 7, the stress level is getting about to get to me. Not only am I still answering the phones, sometimes 3 lines are holding all the time…(Remember I still do not want to talk to anyone) and my mind is getting very tired. I STILL have to sound somewhat fresh and polite. From then on until I shut down the computer and phones, I am about to loose it. Saturday, after a very long week of this charade, I am so mentally drained I am a zombie most of the day. My mind, even though drained, will not shut down. I take a prescribed sleeping pill for this purpose and about 35 minutes, it starts to relax, then the if finally goes into the sleep mode (like your computer).


The people I am in contact with do not see “the real me.” They will see a glimpse every now and then, and ask if everything is ok, I reply in the most normal tone I can muster “No, I’m fine. Just a little mellow today.” The only one I cannot fool (completely) is my wife. She, bless her heart, has this ability to know when I do not have the mask on. I don’t think she understand how bad I am feeling inside, but she knows I am having trouble trying to hide the real me.


So, how do I do it? I MAKE myself. Trust me, I know what you are thinking: I can’t! We will agree one  main problem here and that is, depression breads depression. It “feeds” on itself. When we seem to be at our worst times, we only want to think of the bad things. We dwell, and feed on all the failures we experienced. We do this so often, eventually that is all we remember. I have no doubt I accomplished some pretty good things over the years, but I cannot recall all of them. But I sure can tell you ALL my faults and failures! When we are at that depressed stage, and believe me mine can get all the way into darkness, I do NOT want to be happy. I WANT to be sad. I listen to sad, heartbreaking music. I do not want to do anything, I just want to be left alone, continually being more and more depressed. This my dear friends is where so many suicides come into place. Life as we know is worthless. We want out so bad we can’t help ourselves. No one will miss us. PLEASE do not believe that for a minute! I now have many more grandchildren that I love dearly. I have a cute little daughter I would not have had. I have the best wife in the world who supports me, loves me, and I don’t think she could bare it if I left that way. And so do you! I promise you with every breath I take, you affect someone. Please understand this!


Remember in one of the first couple pages I wrote describing all the symptoms I have or had of Bipolar I? In most days I don’t have all of them. Some days I have most of them, but there is not a day goes by that at least a couple are always present. But sometimes when I absolutely have to, which is very often, I have to put on the mask and hide it. Do I succeed all the time? No. And you won’t either. So what if you have a day  and you cannot force yourself  to put on the mask and live the “other life” that you need to. Don’t beat yourself up the next day. Usually with me, the other day will be a little better. And so will yours. Just keep in mind, like the alcoholic take it one day at a time. You may or may not see it this way, but I Pray everyday, and my faith always helps. We need faith that we will be ok, if we keep pressing on.


An example is I am on Facebook under "Eagle Mind." If you were to read my wall, there is a real a real good chance you could not tell who I am. I write positive things. I post cute quotes. Sometimes I put cool pictures on. I comment or “like” on a lot of friends funny comments. That is me with a mask on. The other live, in one mind.


In summery, sometimes it will not be easy. It will drain you. It will take everything you have to succeed. I know by experience. But you can make it. I hope somehow in this poorly composed special letter to you, I have helped. I hope you read this and at least give it a shot. That my friend, was my only goal. Hang in there, and keep pressing on! You will make it!


I wish you only the best, and I will saying a Prayer for all of us

One Of Those Days

Today is one of those days. I don't know why. Usually it's something the first time in the morning that triggers it and really ruins my whole day. But nothing out of the ordinary happened. Maybe it was because I had an extremely stressful day at work yesterday. Who knows?

I hate these days. As I am writing this I am getting more and more down, depressed, ticked at everything for no reason. These are the days I dread the most because there is no real explanation as to why I feel this way.

You know what? As I mentioned I just completed six hours of evaluation from one of the best Psychologist in my area last week. I was referred to him because after years of treatment I have started to get worse again. My memory is fading fast. I first listed my age 9 years younger than I was. Then later in between test I thought about it embarrassed, had her change it on the form. During the break, I called my wife and told her what I had done. She said "Honey, you are not 52, you are 51. I had her change it again.

Anyway, (during these moments, I seem to ramble on) the Doctor who was charging my Insurance company $1,200 asked me what worries me the most. I thought about all I am going through, how I am suddenly getting worse then I replied (The best I can remember)

"I'll tell you what really bothers me Doctor. I have paid an enormous amount of money, that I cannot afford and you all are drain me financially, and it is about to break me, and you cannot fix me. When I had skin cancer and went through 32 treatments of radiation, we knew what the problem was, we had a plan of action, we did it, and it is now gone. You, or any other doctor don't know what is going on in my mind so you don't know how to fix it. THAT is what bothers me the most."

He sat for a minute and then he agreed. "In a way you are right. We can help you tremendously. We can help so you will not have these problems as often, but we do not have a way of getting rid of it completely. We do not have a cure."

He went on to explain "how the mind is so complex..." Trust me, I know. Other minds who does not understand the entire function of the brain, is trying to fix my mind. They say the mind is so complex, no computer made yet today can compare to it. So how then are they going to fix it?

I know some professionals who read this will disagree with the above, but you keep forgetting the MAIN point here: You are reading this from the mind of a Bipolar I person, who at this very moment, wants to curl up and turn off all the lights, turn the music on, and try to shut off my thoughts! My mind feels so tired! But do you know what I am going to do? I am going to mow the yard because I have been putting it off, and it may rain again! Remember you are reading this through the eyes on someone who is mentally ill.

This is my blog...good or bad.

She Was Someone's Mom"

I had a couple of ideas what I was going to write about next, but something happened to me this morning and I cannot get it out of my mind.

As I mentioned before, I go to my usual quiet place for every morning. I was the only one sitting at the tables in direct view of the flat screen T.V. on the wall always set to news. What I like about that set up is it is turned on "mute" so I have to read the subtitles if I am interested. Most of the times I am not.

As I am sipping the coffee I heard the door directly behind me open from the kitchen. I recognized the manager's voice "You can stay for 30 minutes then you will have to go." I glanced over my shoulder, and just a quick second glimpse I saw all I needed to: A hopeless person with several plastic bags full of no telling what was standing there.

I continued sipping my coffee aware the person was behind me on the other side of the partition. I heard a little shuffling of the bags, but not much else. The workers behind the counter were discussing this person as if she had already left.

"Did you catch her?"

"How did she get in?"

"I don't know, but she was eating stale breakfast rolls strait from the trash.”

On and on…

A little more shuffling of the bags. I could not understand why she was just standing there, behind me. She was really in the hallway near the door. Was she ashamed to come all the way in? I did not look long enough to see what type of person she was. I thought about it, could I give her money? I did not have anything in my wallet. “Oh” I thought, “If I had a lot of money I would buy her food, take her somewhere safe where she could eat, bath, and someone could take care of her. I would ask her what drove her to that? What was her story? No doubt she would not want to talk about it.

I could not stand sitting there with her behind me. I looked at my watch. She had about 15 minutes left. I got up and went to the counter for my usual refill to go. It is so hot, I always stop by the fountain machine and cool it down with water. Then I almost bumped into her. I glanced at her hands and he had a dirty medium size soda cup with the lid and straw off. She had gotten it out of the trash behind me! That was noise I was hearing.

“I’m sorry, go ahead.” I said stepping back. My eyes were on the cup.

“No Sir, please go in front of me.” It was a quiet, very polite voice.

I topped my cup with water, put the lid on it, turned and looked into her eyes. She had warm, soft eyes. Her face was clean. A few wrinkles were around her eyes but that was just about all I noticed. Her smile was kindness but half ashamed. I backed up slightly and turning to leave I replied “Thank you, now help yourself!” knowing she was invisible to the counter employees.

I walked out to the car, hurting inside. She was about my Mom’s age! She really reminded me of an aunt I have. She did not smell. Just the glimpse I saw without staring, she looked rather clean. What happened to her? What was her story? I thought of mom who was walking down the street on the sidewalk with her suitcases in the middle of night. What if we had not saw her.? Could this be what happened to this lady? She is “Someone’s” Mom!

Then as I drive somewhere to park and finish my coffee where I can think, I thought about all the homeless people in this country. Just the other day I heard this figure and it made me sick: On a given night, an estimated 672,000 people experience homelessness. This means 22 out of every 10,000 people are homeless in America.

Now, we are fighting battles in every country BUT our own all across the globe. According to the National Defense, it is estimated in just one campaign alone, it costs us Americans $1 Billion PER DAY! How many mouths will that feed???

Ok, This page is not to be political. So I’ll get off the wagon…for now…trust me, I’ll be back.

Here’s my point. I know the restaurants can not afford to feed all the homeless, and once they start, it would never end. But couldn’t they just give her a few, before running her off? She is someone’s relative. Do they miss her? Are they looking for her? Do they care?

As I drove off, it started to rain. In just about 10 minutes, this kind looking old woman will be walking down the street soaked, no way to get out of the rain. That hurts. It will no doubt be going over and over in my mind all day.

Having A Loved One Committed--My Experience

I am sorry this has taken so long, but you cannot imagine the trouble I have had with writing this. After several days I completed this and while I was proof reading it, somehow, you tell me, just before I hit the publish button everything disappeared. I mean everything! I was staring at a blank page. This blog is set up to 'auto save' every few seconds or key strokes so when it disappeared, it saved a blank page. And, as I typed over half again, I got an error that it could not save it. So...back to square one again. In the middle of all of this, I kept my appointment with the doctor who's title on the wall states he is the "Diplomate In Clinical Neuropsychology." After six hours of questions and tests, I was mentally waisted. As I crossed the bridge home, I got the call we had major plumbing problems at our house. All of this did not help my mood any. I know this is not the best job, but here's my story the best I can remember:

I had a great childhood in that my family was real close. We were not what you would consider poor, but maybe a little below "middle class" back in the days where there were such a thing.

Dad worked hard and mom took care of us three boys which, no doubt was a challenge.. We had supper together every night as a family. Today, mom has said she was sorry that she was so strict on us, but I always say “we turned out pretty good, right?” There is nothing about my childhood that I would want to change.

I don’t remember when it happened, but when I was little dad took mom to the doctor and he prescribed her medication because of “her nervous condition” as she called it. That is all I remember except as long as I can remember she took the medication.

It was not long after my dad passed away, my brother took mom to the doctor for a checkup. She was in good health he said except he questioned why she was taking the medication. She explained she has a serious nervous condition for years, and this helped.. This is the part that makes me so enraged to this day I cannot even see the computer!--- “Mrs.…the medication you are on is not for your nerves, but it is usually prescribed for someone who has depression. I see no reason why you should be taking it!!!!. My mom, who took this medicine for over 35 years stopped ’cold turkey.’ Oh I hope, I really pray that doctor will read this!!!

It did not take long at all and my mom began to change. The mom we all knew became delirious an out of control. While our older brother and I moved back to the Midwest, my middle brother continued to live in the West. He and my dad each bought an acre but they placed their homes not far apart so they could be together. He would call us and tell us what mom had become. He would tell us stories about how he came home from the night shift and she would be standing in the middle of the desert in a thin nightgown with every light on including huge spot lights. He confronted her asking what she was doing and she said “she just ran them all off.” “Who?” my brother asked. “Dozens of them on foot and in cars.” My brother walked the property and there were no footprints in the sand or tire marks. He questioned her and she declared “I know what I saw.” Then there was the time he was awoke by a constant, soft sound. He went outside and there was mom again in the middle dry desert where rattle snakes, scorpions, and everything dangerous came out at night, raking the desert. One time she had gave the grandchildren gifts for Christmas only to stomp into my brothers house and take them away saying they did not appreciate them.

I could list volumes of pages of things like this my brother told us. He finally said he could not stand it any longer and by himself he could not look after her.

My older brother and I suggested mom move back here with us in the Midwest. Mom jumped at the opportunity, mainly to get away from my other brother who “hated her.” Until we found a good place for her to live, we agreed she would move in with us. She was going to stay with me for a couple of weeks, then my other brother.

My wife welcomed her and told her our house is yours. My daughter gave up her room for mom and slept on the couch. It was good for about two days then it started going down hill. My wife and I tried to include her in everything, but she became withdrawn. She would sit on the couch for hours obviously upset at something. I would ask her “mom, what’s wrong?” and she at first would reply “nothing.” Then I came home and she was on the couch crying. I asked her again what was the matter and she said she should leave because it was obvious we did not want her.

Then, what happened next came as a major shock to me. The stories my brother had told us about came to life. Mom walked over to the window and quietly said “I knew it!” I asked her what she mean and she said “those people out there was on my plane. They followed me.” I went to the window and saw my neighbor out in the yard. “Mom, that’s my neighbor. He was not on your plane.” “Are you calling me a liar?” she replied. “Everyone one of them people out there was on my plane and now they are watching me!” There was only my neighbor outside and no one else. I said “mom, my neighbor was not on your plane, I saw him out cleaning his motor home 3 days ago, and besides, there are no one else out there.” It got so bad while I was not home my wife made an excuse to go somewhere and sat in a parking lot and cried.

One day she came down from upstairs with her suitcases. She said she was leaving, going somewhere where she is welcome. I asked her where she was going and she replied “anywhere but here!” I called my brother and he said go ahead and take her to a motel and he would go there in the morning and check up on her. Well, that was a nightmare. I did not want to put her in just ant motel, I wanted it to be clean and in a nice area. I drove to one, and she said no, she was not staying there. I ending up driving by three more with the same results. Finally, I said  “the next one we come to is it, like it or not!”

I took her to the room and she looked around and said she was not going to stay in that room. She did not give an excuse except, she just won’t. Two more rooms, the same. “They are watching me.“ At the last room I noticed her looking at the radio clock on the nightstand beside the bed. There was a red light indicating the it was P.M. I put it all together and said I would be right back. I don’t know how or why the manager put up with this but I got another key and went into the room before her and unplugged the clock and that room worked for her.

Over the next several weeks my older brother worked with her, and they decided that if she would (in no uncertain terms do what we asked and take the medicine) they would find an apartment for her to live in. This excited her. They drive around and found the perfect place. It was safe, clean, and she was on the second floor with large picture windows overlooking the park, and it was close to both of us. Mom was like her old self. She was happy and fixed it up so nice. It was spotless, you could not find a speck of dust anywhere, even above the door jams!

Well, this did not last long. Mom liked to walk which was good for her. My brothers and I had always said she was in better health, physically, then all three of us put together. One day my wife saw her walking in the pouring rain, but she had an umbrella. However, the umbrella was under her arm, closed. My wife rolled down the window and asked her to get in and she would drive her wherever she needed to go. “It is not raining very hard, I am fine.” She replied. A couple of days later, we found mom walking down the street dragging two suitcases. She was leaving. When asked where she was going, she replied she didn’t know.

Because it was unsafe to leave mom alone, we were afraid she would just pickup and leave and we would never find her again; she denied that anything was wrong and kept to her beliefs that everyone was out to get her; she would not let us take her to a doctor  (we would not use the words Psychiatrist around her); she became more delirious, more and more seeing people that was not there; would not let us help her at all,  and on and on so we had no choice to have her placed in a mental hospital until we could figure out what to do, but we did not have a clue how to go about it. That day my brother went to an attorney to seek advise, and she drafted the documents we would need. Now I know the laws and procedures vary from state to state, but this how it happened where we lived to the best of my knowledge.

 He called and said he was going to have to have her picked up and take to a mental ward in the hospital. The local police picked up mom at her apartment, against her will…in handcuffs. This was on Friday. On Tuesday, we went before a Judge to have her declared  mentally incompetent. {Definition} An individual is defined as mentally incompetent if he is manifestly psychotic or otherwise of unsound mind, either consistently or sporadically, by reason of mental defect, among which are retardation, schizophrenia or other acute hallucinatory and delusory defects of mind, certain types of epilepsy and other seizure disorders which render the individual coordinated and mobile but of unsound mind, bipolar disorder which results in sporadic psychosis (but not simply mild or moderate bipolar disorder), and other disorders which consistently or sporadically render the individual starkly incapable of maintaining awareness of and responsibility for his actions.

 I will never forget this as long as I live. It is burnt in my mind forever. I hope and pray NO ONE has to witness this. Before we went into the court room I was standing in the hall. There were some prisoners standing with a sheriff by there side. I looked down the hall and I say my 68 year old mother slowly walking my way. She was dressed in orange prison clothes. Her hands were in front of her, and I saw the handcuffs. Then…oh try if you can to picture the mom you love with all your heart…shuffle down the isle in leg shackles!!! I promise you my legs almost buckled in front of me! As she came near me she gave me her eyes met mine. It was not a look of sadness, but a look of hatred, almost evil. Her lips were slowly moving. I stood in front of her and pointing to the leg shackles and told the sheriff to take them off. He said “Sir, step out of the way.” I glanced at the strong prisoner standing near me and he was not even in handcuffs. “Please, where’s she going to go, take them off!” I declared. He said he was not going to warn me again, get out of the way. I found out later, she tried to escape and this was there policy. It still cut my heart out.

  After seeing what I just witnessed, what happened in the court room is almost a blur. I remember the judge saying something, then he looked at me and asked me to take a seat in the witness box and tell my story. I would not, could not, look at mom while I told him everything I knew. My brother did the same. The judge ruled her mentally incompetent and place my brother as her guardian and the guardian of her estate.

They took her to a mental facility. She actually had a nice room that was about the size of a fairly large motel room. However, what she thought was happening to her all along was now a reality: they monitored her day and night. The door only opened from the outside. Per my brother, they gave her medication.

Now, during all this time, my brothers and I slightly disagreed on different things regarding all of this, but I will always thank my brother for his insight. She was there about a two months, and we could see some improvement. My brother had her released in his care for one day. He had paid the rent on her apartment during all of this time. There was not one word said in the car. He pulled up to the apartment and asked mom to get out. He unlocked the apartment and mom walked in. My brother said she looked around and even walked into the bedroom where everything was just as she left it, even the Bible laid open on the nightstand to the last verse she was reading. She started crying. My brother sat her down and said, “mom, you have a choice. You can continue to stay where you are, or you can come back here. But, and this part is not up for discussion: if you chose to stay here, you will go to the doctor as often as needed, and you will take the medication he tells to. I will make sure you take the medicine everyday if I have to give it to you myself. But I promise you, if you give us a hard time about this, if you do not do what we think is best for you or you stop taking the medication, you will go back to where you are now and I’ll give this apartment back. You will never leave where you are now mom.”  Mom starting crying and asked “why are you doing this to me?” My brother told her “You don’t believe it, but it’s because we love you.”

Today Mom now lives by herself in the apartment. It is spotless, so beautiful, that when the manager wants to show a potential renter an example of what the apartments look like he uses hers. She does not drive but like I mentioned earlier, she is strong as an ox. When the weather is good she walks miles at a time. Then she catches a city bus and goes shopping. She knows all the schedules. All the bus drivers like her. One day it started raining just after she finished shopping, and the city bus driver actually drove into her complex and let her out by the door so she could make it into her building without getting the groceries or her soaked!

I don’t know how she did it, but there was a tree growing outside her picture window and it started obstructing her view from the soccer field. The manager of the apartment complex could not do anything about it because it was bordering on the city’s property. One day she called real happy “that tree is gone!” I asked how and all she said was that she called several people at the city building and three days later, they came and removed the tree.

Sure, there are many, many times we see signs of her illness come out. But these are little things compared to what we went through. Sometimes she’ll say something that may hurt a little, but we keep telling ourselves “she can’t help it.” He mind is sharp as a whip! She can remember every birthday, anniversary from  great-grandchildren all the way down to friends and distant relatives she hasn’t seen in over 30 years.  We all make sure we call her each day, and she always ends the conversation with “I Love You Son!” MOM IS BACK!!!

Now, forget everything else I said, but I bet the below comment will get more attention than any of the above. Remember the ’state of mind’ she was in. Remember how horrible it was, and how unsafe it was to leave her alone. Speaking from someone who knows more than you realize about all these actions and experiences  including medication, I will NEVER believe it is the ‘one’ shot per month that has made a miracle come true. It’s not counseling, because she refuses to talk about it, and if she does she says we are lying or “I know what I saw.” There is not a miracle shot. But, I believe with all my heart it is a combination of the medicine; her deep desire not to be in the facility she was in; wanting the love of her family, and above all: Her faith in GOD. Take whichever you want, I’m just glad to have Mom back!

"My Mind"