blogs, life, mindfulness, San Juan, Puerto Rico, self-esteem, writing

Psychosis Round 1 Story

It all began at a small liberal arts college in upstate New York–Ithaca College. 
I was in the first semester of my third year and I began to fall apart in October.
I started going on nightly walks to look at the moon and somewhere along the line reality and fantasy mixed and then I started thinking that the moon was affecting my fertility and menstrual cycle. This was one of my many delusions. I also believed that I was being persecuted by a friend of mine and that that friend (who had access to a gun) was out to get me. So I was experiencing delusions and I was also paranoid.
One night, I couldn’t fall asleep because I kept thinking about my friend who was “out to get me” and I had a panic attack. My roommate was very startled and it took me a while to calm down. After that, she didn’t trust me again and I felt terrible about what had happened. 
I began to feel restless every night (mania) and I would walk and go to the gym and walk more without needing any rest. I also developed a crush on a classmate when was gay and when he rejected me I immediately wanted to go back home. I decided to return home to Puerto Rico–things only got worse from there.
When I returned home I developed another crush on a person I who I had liked during high school. Even though I hadn’t seen this person in years, I was convinced that I was in love. This was one of my strongest delusions because I landed in the hospital because my psychosis revolved around obsessive thinking about X person. My experience at the hospital was a frightening one–I hope everyone knows that I’m talking about a psychiatric hospital. I saw all sorts of different people. Some that appeared normal to me and some with serious mental issues (even on my delicate mental state I could discern who was hallucinating and who was simply there because of other issues.) I was at the hospital for a week and then I returned home. I was prescribed a cocktail of Abilify, Celexa, Klonopin, and Depakote. My obsession with x person persisted for several months after but at least I wasn’t experiencing a full blown psychosis like I experienced prior to going to the hospital. 
My first psychosis was followed by psychiatric treatment (visits to a psychiatrist and continued medication) but when I was convinced by a family member that I didn’t need to take my meds, I stopped. Six months later I experienced my second psychosis. I’ll write more about that in a different post. 
My purpose in writing this is to inform others about what people with bipolar disorder and other psychotic disorders go through and why it’s important to follow treatment. I hope that I haven’t scared anyone although for me it was a scary experience. I could write pages and pages about psychosis 1 but I don’t think it would be good for an internet audience. 
So I’ve kept this short and sweet and if you have any questions I would love to answer them.
Stay tuned for psychosis round 2! 

blogs, mindfulness, poems, self-esteem


I’m listening to David Bowie and I think, “why not write?” 

But I’m tired.

Tired of life.

Tired of this nothingness.

Tired of waking up every morning.

Tired of trying to figure it all out.

So today, I don’t want to write.

When will I want to write?

I don’t know.

I just know that I’m tired and that music alleviates my soul and I wish I could be a hero one day like the song goes and write something worthwhile. 

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And so it goes…

Universe, if by any chance you are listening to my words and prayers, give me a sign (ha! If only)

So I’m supposed to study, work, study more and more, study for your masters, study for your doctorate, be a professor, never find love. 

Never find love.

That’s how I feel right about now. Like he will never love me. Like he doesn’t know I exist. Like I will never see him again.

Sorry to wax poetic but love is love and love is everything we have in this world. 

“love will keep us together” goes that song.

It’s a great song but I can’t trust this to be true.

I will never find love, I think to myself. 

And I know I’m just being dramatic but I don’t want all of the fish in the sea. I want one special, lovely fish that is taken. Does that make me a horrible person? I don’t steal people from people. I don’t want to. I’ll let them be. But there is a tiny part of me thinking, maybe, just maybe, something might go wrong. Maybe, just maybe, things will be different. But that is unrealistic thinking, of course. But hey, I’m not a very realistic person. 

And so it goes that I am alone, and so it goes that I will never find love, and so it goes that I will write. 

“Love will keep us together”

But only in my dreams. 

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So I will write…

Today I couldn’t stop my tears from rolling down my eyes. 

Today I wasn’t strong enough to hold them in.

Today I prayed for strength and looked for it inside of me.

Today I saw you even in the lights lining the streets.

Today I wished you didn’t exist.

Today I wished I didn’t exist.

Today I wished I could evanesce.

Today I wished I you could evanesce.

Today was the kind of day where you just want it all to go away–the kind where you just want to cry yourself to sleep because you can’t hold it together.

Today I have bipolar disorder, tomorrow I have bipolar disorder, forever I will have bipolar. Today wasn’t a happy manic day. Today was an I’m very depressed day. Today, thankfully, is almost over. All I will have left are the words written on this page. 

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On Despair

Part of having faith is being patient. Recently, I have been feeling upset. Everyday I struggle with my patience because I am angry at life. I am angry that I am “crazy”. I am angry that I was hospitalized in a psychiatric hospital for a psychotic episode and I am angry that it almost happened a second time. I am angry that I am in love with somebody who doesn’t love me back (this angers me most of all). I feel despair everyday even when I try to feel hope and stay positive. Even on my best days, I feel sad, and most of all–angry. Angry because I wish I didn’t have to deal with my bipolar disorder, angry because I wish I had a partner, angry because my patience is exhausted on most days, angry because I wish I had a different life. I want things from life, I have hopes and dreams, but they seem so far from reach. I feel like I am swimming endlessly, without a destination in my way. How can others make life seem so easy? It is exhausting!!!  I cry on most days because of this anger, because of my lack of patience. I am beginnning to pray everyday because I feel like it is my last resort.
For those who believe in God, there is a saying that goes: “God grabs you by the neck but He doesn’t suffocate you.”

My grandmother says this in Spanish once in a while and I sometimes don’t care for it. But right now, I think about my psychotic episode and how I felt suffocated by God. I don’t feel suffocated any longer but I do feel like I have difficulty breathing on most days, not because I am asmatic but because after that “suffocation” I am different. I am less patient, I have difficulty being calm, in truth–I am a completely different person. I feel like my wings have been cut and if they are growing then they are growing slowly. I don’t think I was punished by God. I think I experienced an awakening, however strange that may sound. The difficulty with this though is that my “awakening” was a slap in the face. That slap in the face left me depleted of energy, hope, and it has taken a toll on my faith and what I believe is good in this world. Most days I feel like life is a piece of shit–not a miracle. All I can do is say thank you for another day, even if that day was one of those where I felt my anger to the point of tears.

Tonight I will pray that tomorrow I wake up peacefully and not anxiously.

I might be crazy. I might be insane. I might be bipolar. I might be weird. But I still have a heart. I am still human. All I hope is for God to give me the strength to keep knowing. Lord knows I need it.

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Summer Wind 

The summer wind came blowing in from across the sea…

A mellifluous voice I heard.

I smiled, of course.

Why, when I locked eyes with you, I felt comfortable?

Why, when I stared at your bare hands I ached to hold them?

Why, when it seemed like no one was watching I felt you stare at me?
Were you? I wonder…
I pray that one day I will know the truth.

That that “not yet” that escaped your mouth meant something.

I pray that if you are with her that you feel magic, because my dear, if you don’t feel magic then it is not meant to be.

I pray, and I hope, that one day I can hear you sing “Summer Wind”.
Just then

Will everything be alright in this world.

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A Prayer

The greatest pain that I have ever known is loving someone and that someone not loving me back. I feel trapped by the memory of his spirit, his being, his essence. Sometimes, the pain is too much and I don’t know what to do with myself. Other times, it is bearable. It has been a year since I’ve last seen this (stranger) and yet I feel so close to him because he exists in my thoughts and prayers. I pray that he is happy, that is healthy, and that-selfishly-he thinks of me at least in the slightest. At this point, I know there is no future with him. That hurts. It burns. It feels like a stab in the heart. Seven years ago I fell in love. A few months ago I proclaimed my love. Today I ache and I cry because I feel trapped. Sometimes I wish I could erase the memory of him. But no. It is too sweet to remember his voice, his character, his smile and his laugh, it is too sweet to remember him. So I will write and write and pray and pray because that is all I can do. I wish him the best. And if he is in love (then I hope that it is true). 

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Time Heals 

I thought the pain would never end.

I was wrong.

Each day that passes I let go of a memory.

If your memories are my scars I am removing them, one by one.

If your memories have burned me, these wounds are healing slowly.

I thought nothing could take away the pain-but-as they say-time heals all wounds.

It is true what they say. Time works magic.

We just have to be patient with time and heal slowly. Healing, real healing, takes time. It cannot be rushed.

Day by day, joy comes back to me.

I am starting to feel like myself again.

A whole and free spirit, not trapped, but flying peacefully through time, expecting less and less of what I wanted in the past–

I remember my longing for you and I find it silly now–

“Why do we need an other to feel one?” There are many answers to this question but perhaps it is to feel like we belong to something, that we are part of something.

Now, human companionship and intimacy are very important but we can find love in so many things: in nature, in art, in literature, in the beauty of meditation, etc.

I found love in myself-and that longing-for you-has evolved into a longing for me.

It isn’t narcissism. It’s self-love and there’s a great difference. 

What I mean is that I don’t imagine a fantasy of being with a soul mate any longer, rather I imagine myself in a peaceful and quiet place somewhere cool and beautiful, staring nature right in the face. I imagine myself swimming in warm waters and feeling the sun hit my pale skin. I imagine myself listening to live orchestral music and feeling true love in a way I had never imagined. 
A love that lives in time. That is perhaps the most eternal love.