2016: Same Old, Same Old

How is it almost February?

I spent January working my ass off and being sick, so I’ve lost all concept of time. I started a 4th and 5th job, so my schedule is ridiculous. Honestly, if I didn’t have a multi-device syncing calendar I’d be completely screwed. And it’s not like I’m working an excessive number of hours (40-50 a week, on average), but being all over the place at all different times of the day is making me scatterbrained. I’ve turned into a complete flake, and it’s really starting to get to me!

(In a spontaneous act of crazy, needing to feel like I had some sort of control, I got a pair of scissors and chopped off all my hair. Thank you to Saira for being my inspiration there! Heh.)

It’s also not helping that my anxiety is getting bad. And the irony is that the source of anxiety is that (1) I’m beyond paranoid that I’m going to have a panic attack at work, and (2) I lose my prescription benefits at the end of this month.

A big issue for me in early 2015 was that I stopped sleeping regularly due to nocturnal panic episodes, caused my dreams (typically the traditional teeth falling out dream). They went away last spring, but returned in the last few weeks. Recently it’s the same dream over and over: I’m at work (my retail job, which I’ve been at since October and quite like) and am constantly getting into trouble because I’m doing everything wrong. As the dream goes on coworkers start coming up to me and telling me how incompetent I am and that management is furious. Eventually in the dream I have a panic attack, am yelled at by a manager, and fired. And then I wake up in a panic attack (hyperventilating, crying, nose bleed, all that fun stuff). I’ve had this same dream, and same panic episode, the last 3 nights in a row. UGH.

As for the benefits, I don’t even know what to do. I can’t afford my auto-immune meds AND my anxiety meds. So I weighed the option of taking one vs the other. If I stop the anxiety meds I’ll probably relapse into my anxiety-ridden self, but if I stop my auto-immune meds I could potentially die, so… I voted for anxiety meds! But I went to my doctor this morning and asked about weening off the meds to which I received the most incredulous look of all time. “You have an incredibly severe anxiety disorder. You can not go off medication.” OKAY, OKAY.

So, I now need to figure out how to pay the $500/month for meds. I keep getting denied for private insurance, so I might try Trillium again. I’ve been denied twice, but maybe third time’s the charm. Everyone please cross all fingers and toes. Thx.

Hmm, what else? I was supposed to start the 3rd semester of my out-patient anxiety program yesterday, but being a sleep deprived flake, I missed the first session. So I need to make sure that I sort that out and don’t get myself kicked out of the program. And today I finally made appointments with my counsellor and occupational therapist. They’re both going to shout at me for taking more jobs…

The last time I saw either of them I had just taken on a second one, and neither were impressed. But I think I needed to do it, and I’m happy I did. I realized the only reason I wasn’t was because I had convinced myself I couldn’t. But it turns out I could! I’m not completely incompetent!

Well, not outside of my anxiety dreams, at least.





As some of you know I’ve been in an outpatient program for severe anxiety with the NHS since the beginning of this year. The experience has been incredibly tough, but if I look at where I was 12 months ago compared to today I can say that it has been – and continues to be- rewarding. The program has provided me with clarity, acceptance, and in its success the will and motivation to continue my path to recovery.

However, in saying that, over the past month I’ve found myself missing sessions due to work conflicts. But considering I was unable to work when I began the program, there are much worse reasons for absence! And I did meet with one of my clinicians last week and commit to improving my attendance come the new year. Having recently been offered a permanent role with my new employer (I was hired as a seasonal staff member) I am now left with the dilemma of whether or not to disclose that I am in this program. On one hand I want to explain my sporadic availability, but on the other I still greatly fear being fired. But, that’s something I’ll need to continue to mull over.

But that’s not the reason I decided to write today, so moving on!

I’ve been on a self-help book kick lately. Most recently I dug out my copy of The Anxiety & Phobia Workbook, which I was given during my stint in the Region’s anxiety program. (Remember the anxiety program I was kicked out of for being too anxious? Yeah, that one.) At the time I didn’t get very far into the book, first being too overwhelmed with the program, and then being too upset after being asked to leave. But going back to it I must say that it’s excellent. I’m only in section 2 but am already finding a lot of new and helpful information. I’m also realizing some misconceptions or misunderstandings I had about certain topics, namely: Stress.

My relationship with the idea of stress has always been complicated. I’ve spent years beating myself up, and telling myself that I can’t be experiencing stress. What do I have to be stressed about? I don’t have a stressful job, or family to take care of, or any of these other things that I’ve always associated with being sources of stress. But I’m coming to realize that I hold a very myopic view of what stress is. It’s not a short list of things that affect everyone in a specific way. It’s a very, very long list of things that affect everyone to varying degrees.

Section 2 of the book is entitled “Major Causes of Anxiety Disorders”, and one of the topics discussed is Cumulative Stress. It includes an instrument called the Life Events Survey, which is used to determine a person’s level of cumulative stress. Several events are listed, and given an accompanying score. If an event has occurred more than once over the past two years, then you would count the score the applicable number of times. The conclusion states that:

If your score is under 150, you are less likely to be suffering the effects of cumulative stress. If it is between 150 and 300, you may be suffering from chronic stress, depending on how you perceived and coped with the particular life events that occurred. If your score is over 300, it is likely you are experiencing some detrimental effects of cumulative stress.

Examples of ‘events’ include Personal Illness, Change in Residence, Losing a Job, Change in Finances, Major Purchases, etc. It asks you to include only events that have occurred in the last 2 years.

My score was… 595.

I guess I need to stop beating myself up, thinking I have nothing to be stressed about!


Things Are Looking Up

What’s that? A positive title? What is going on?

It’s been a pretty good month, I must admit. It started off rocky when I went off a medication and had some pretty severe withdrawal symptoms, but it was all up hill from there. My Panic People Project is continuing to gain traction with a local newspaper article, work is going well, things are happening on the career path, I won Alumnus of the Week from my grad school, and in 2 weeks I will be starting The Week Of Awesome (Idina Menzel, Gillian Anderson, Billie Piper, Hayley Atwell, I can’t even!)

Oh, and my amazing g@wd daughter turned 4!


Alumnus of the Week

Screen Shot 2015-08-14 at 11.24.22 AM

Niagara This Week


I still have no clue what the future holds, but I’m trying to stay positive. My ‘What Would You Do?’ panic has morphed into an answer of ‘ANYTHING!’ And I’m going to hold onto that attitude for as long as I can.

Failed Accomplishments

I started working in March and thought it was going well. In fact I was beginning to feel quite proud of myself. I made it through my shirts with little to no issues, wasn’t calling in sick, was adjusting to the new routine. It was a massive improvement from my last few jobs, and I was starting to feel like maybe I was finally ready to look for permanent employment in my field.

But then I was asked into the managers office on Friday to “discuss my breakdowns”. Now, I have Panic Disorder, I’ve made no secret of this. But in saying that, I’ve only had 2 panic attacks at work since starting nearly 3 months ago. TWO. Both of which were short lived, and did not effect my job performance or duties. As they were happening I simply took a moment out, got a hold of myself, and went back. It was no big deal. Or so I thought…

It turns out my coworkers have been going to my manager with all sorts of stories. He heard from someone that I “threatened to quit if I don’t get more hours” (definitely didn’t happen), and that I “wanted fewer hours” from someone else. Someone said I was “too emotional and easily overwhelmed” (again, 2 panic attacks in 3 months- that’s a huge step for me), and someone else wants to keep me off busy shifts.

Now, I left meeting with two main thoughts: 1. I’m working in a gossip driven environment where anything and everything one says will be misconstrued and twisted, leaving me with no desire to ever have a discussion with anyone there ever again; and 2. I’m once again being slapped in the face with the reality of my standards vs their standards. What I see as accomplishments, they see as failures.

I’ve long ago accepted the simple fact that my life and accomplishments will be on a different scale from the societal norms, but I continue to struggle with how to find my fit in the larger picture. How do I find success and a sense of purpose when opportunities crash with the disparity? Because while my achievements are enough for me, they’re meaningless to them. And to survive in this world it feels like I need to reach their level. Is there truly a way to manage expectations when it comes to employment?


Blog For Mental Health 2015

I’m thrilled to announce that I’m taking part in the Blog For Mental Health 2015!


“I pledge my commitment to the Blog for Mental Health 2015 Project. I will blog about mental health topics not only for myself, but for others. By displaying this badge, I show my pride, dedication, and acceptance for mental health. I use this to promote mental health education in the struggle to erase stigma.”

My Story

I’ve always been anxious and moody, even as a child. But it was never to an extent that affected my daily life, nor did it hinder or alter my decision making or thought processes. Any recollection I have of being particularly emotional or frightened were in situations where such reactions were understandable: death, assault, dying.

I was always relatively fine though. Introverted, emotional, and weird, but that was just me. When I was 18 I went off to my first year of university in England and had a ball. It had its ups-and-downs, but they weren’t much different than what everyone else was going through (well, aside from that time I was quarantined in the hospital!). I spent the first couple of months being mildly homesick, but by New Years was loving it, wanting to stay there forever.

First year came to an end and I made a decision to transfer schools in order to pursue a particular (and, at the time, rare) program. I would have finished off my degree in Kingston, but instead decided to head to Nova Scotia. Unfortunately, just a couple of months in the program was cancelled, and I started to change. I didn’t know what was wrong with me, other than I miserable. And that it continued to get worse and worse. Everything became so incredibly difficult. Reading, writing, eating, getting out bed. Some days I just couldn’t. I was embarrassed and confused and alone. I once tried to explain to my mom what I was feeling, and she told me just to work my way through it. I remember being so angry and upset because that’s what I was trying to do and it wasn’t working. So, I unplugged my phone and went to bed for 2 days.

As parents do when their child is 1000 miles away, showing signs of severe emotional instability, and not answering the phone, they got a hold of the uni. My RA was alerted and came to check on me. I can’t even remember her name, but she was incredibly nice and encouraged me to go to the health centre. I eventually did, completely mortified. I don’t know what exactly I told the doctors, but they gave me medication and set me up with regular counselling.

Doctor # 1 / Diagnosis: Clinical Depression.

Things shifted back and forth after that. I’d start to feel a bit better and then not. By the end of the year I was still deeply depressed, and had flunked (or nearly flunked) several classes. When I moved home in the spring I told my mom I couldn’t go back there. Still not quite understanding what I was going through, her reaction was “well, you need to go somewhere“, at which time I applied to Brock.

I spent that summer (’07) working several jobs, visiting doctors, and discovering The Office. I know it’s cheesy as hell, but I still credit TO with helping me through that time. In the months that preceded I’d reached the point where I just didn’t want to live anymore. And to find something that brought me some amount of joy after nearly a year of misery… Well, I clung to it, and I clung hard.

I went back to uni that autumn, made some wonderful friends, and eventually, finally started feeling some version of “normal” again. I was on and off of various medications for the following year, all to varying degrees of success. Of course, with depression/anxiety meds you tend to determine if you stay on them or not based on the side effects. Some make you stay awake for 48 hours straight, others make you gain 30 lbs.

Unfortunately by 4th year things started to take a turn again. Thanks to spring/evening courses I had been able to catch up on my credits, so by winter I was eligible to graduate with a Pass. I was disappointed in myself for not getting a 4 Year Honours degree, but I’d become familiar with my limits, and knew by that point I’d reached them. So, I quit while I was ahead and in Feb 2009 was issued a BA.

I spent the next two and a half years working, travelling, medication hopping, and taking a few classes. During that time the depression had eased off, but the anxiety had swooped in. I’d started experiencing bad panic attacks while at Brock, which continued after graduating. Though it wasn’t until after that the debilitating daily anxiety really hit me. Getting attacks at the thought of leaving the house, or having to use a phone? It was exhausting. It is exhausting.

Doctor # 2 / Diagnosis: Generalized Anxiety Disorder.

In early 2011 I was working in a contact centre (email based) and completely fed up with the state of my life. Having found a postgrad program that I was interested in in Toronto, I decided I’d head back to school. Sadly, it turns out that getting through school with debilitating anxiety is just as (if not more) challenging than getting through school with depression. But, the anxiety had the bonus of just really pissing me off, and making me that much more determined to go through with something (as opposed to depression, which makes me unmotivated, lack focus, not care, etc).

Doctor #3 / Diagnosis: Borderline Personality Disorder.

In powering through I started to experience severe daily attacks and took on several terrible, and sometimes dangerous, coping mechanisms. I’m still not at a point of being able to openly discuss the latter, it’s far too difficult to get into. Suffice to say, I spent most of grad school as an anti-social, anxiety ridden, mess. Though I somehow made it through the coursework successfully. It still kind of bothers me that most of my classmates probably just saw me as that weird, asshole girl in the corner, but many have been kind enough to listen to me speak / write about my anxiety, and hopefully realize that wasn’t really me.

After completing the coursework, the final requirement of the postgrad was several hundred work experience hours. Feeling emboldened with the recent success, and still wildly angry at / in rebellion against my anxiety, I decided to move back to England. “Don’t want me to leave the house, anxiety? Well, suck it- I’m moving across the ocean!” Or something like that.

So, in late summer 2012, off I went. I don’t think I would have survived my first few months there had it not been for the unreasonably generous hospitality of a friend and her mother. Though my mental health issues proved to be too much of a strain and our friendship quickly dissolved, I still remain immeasurably grateful to them for their kindness. I was able take my time in learning the new city, finding work, finding lodging. As a result by my 4 month anniversary I was working an exciting job, living comfortably, and finding myself quite content. The anxiety was still burdensome, but I was determined to find a way to live with it, even if it meant crying and hyperventilating on public transit regularly.

Doctor #4 / Social Anxiety Disorder.

However, as happens, life had other plans. In the new year my physical health started to deteriorate. My lungs, kidneys, and liver had all gone haywire. My white count was through the roof. I learned then that having a fever can have an enormous impact on my anxiety. And after frequent doctors visits and no real answers, I decided I should go home. I felt terrible, and working had become more and more difficult. Back across the ocean I went…

After only 48 hours back in Canada I found myself in the ER with a doctor telling me I should be dead. Again. And thus began my Toxic Summer. (Brief rundown: The medication for my auto-immune disease had built up in my system, slowly poisoning me, deteriorating my organs, etc.) I then spent much of the next few months in bed, and most anxiety/depression stuff was put on the back burner.

By the autumn I was feeling better than I had in years (it’s nice how being healthy does that!) and was ready to take on the world again. I headed back to London, got my old job back, found a new place to live, and started the search for an internship. I also finally found an anxiety medication that worked. I didn’t have panic attacks for months. MONTHS. It was glorious!

In that time I even managed to finish grad school. Of course, my luck being what it is, there was a clerical error that resulted in me not being allowed to officially graduate for another 7 months, but, that’s neither here not there.

In summer 2014 I moved back to Canada and started figuring out what to do with my life. However, after months of rejection and getting nowhere, the anxiety and depression returned.

Doctor # 5 / Diagnosis: Panic Disorder, Agoraphobia.

In January of this year I started an outpatient program. I’m seeing a psychiatrist, several social workers, an individual counsellor, and am in an Anxiety and Panic Management group. I’m doing better than I was, but still not great.

This past week the social workers who run the group session pulled me aside. They said they’ve been observing me for the past couple of months and believe my anxiety is too severe to fully benefit from the program I’m currently on. They recommend an inpatient program. Upon hearing this news I completely broke down. I still don’t know what to think or where to go with such a recommendation.

And that is where I am. 9 years, more aware, more comfortable speaking openly about this, but still completely and utterly lost.

Shrinking World

After months of fighting, begging, and waiting I have finally started an OHIP covered treatment program for all the anxiety/panic issues I’ve been dealing with. The next few months are going to be rough, but I’ll be working with a team from a few different outpatient clinics and health centres in the area. Last week I met with a psychiatrist and a social worker (separate services) for assessment, and both agreed to continue working with me. OHIP only covers a handful of sessions with each, but I’m hopeful that even the short time will be of help. They’ve both also mentioned options for services following their own, ones that they can get me into – therapy, panic support counselling, anxiety wellness group. I finally feel like I’ve been able to gain access to this seemingly impenetrable system after 8 long years.

The timing of this is equally perfect and horrible. You see, for as long as I’ve been dealing with these issues, I’ve never had my world shrink down to it’s current extreme. My anxiety may have been bad in the past, but school and work and life always forced me to keep my bubble large and rather elasticized. There was always the occasional bad day where I just couldn’t, but most of the time I’d take a deep breath and step out into the world. If need be I’d go out to my car or into a stairwell to have a panic attack or cry or shout in frustration. But, I was still out there, moving, interacting.

But I don’t have that anymore. I don’t have school or work or life. In the spring my bubble was the whole of central London. In the summer it was the spaces (and walking route between) home and work. Now it’s shrunk to the second floor of the house. The world outside the bubble feels dangerous, filled with unpredictability and discomfort. Everything has the potential to set me off, to make me lose myself in a space that is not safe, and that’s terrifying.

I wasn’t familiar with the idea of the shrinking world until recently (at least not consciously), but it’s a shift I began to notice over the past year. Those who know me know I love to travel, and would go just about anywhere in a heartbeat. But in spring 2014 I had a flight booked and entire trip planned to Oslo, but on the day of departure I couldn’t get on the plane. I was terrified and I didn’t know why, so I spent days/weeks beating myself up for such an irrational decision to not go. I mean, really? I’ve been to 15 countries, half of those travelling solo. I’ve had so much shit thrown at me while travelling (figuratively and literally, as some of you may remember!) that I know I’m fully capable of dealing with many worst case scenarios. And yet…

I’d hoped it was a one off, but then in November when I was meant to go to New York I once again panicked. I sent a text to a close friend stating “I can’t go to New York. I just don’t think I should go.” and when she asked “How come?”, I replied “I’m terrified.” Truthfully, the only reason I did end up going was because of an argument at home and the resulting fear of staying and dealing with the ramifications of that outweighed my fear of going on the trip.

That trip was two months ago now, and since returned home my bubble has snapped back in around me. I don’t leave the house for days on end (a week in a few instances), and when I do, I don’t venture far. And because of this, every time I go out, it’s more difficult than the last time.

After my appointment with the psychiatrist last week I was so utterly frustrated with myself and how bad this has gotten that I got in the car and drove to Toronto, where I got out for about 15 minutes before driving back home. I then had a massive panic attack, of course, but two steps forward, one step back is better than the reverse. The leap without looking approach has always been my go-to in the past, and has served me well. I mean just over a year ago I went for a one week holiday to the UK, but decided to skip my flight home and stay for 10 months instead. Unfortunately I’m not in a position to leap right now. I have no money, no job prospects, and no where to go. I’ve been incredibly fortunate in the past to have people who took me in while I got back on my feet after a massive leap, but I don’t think such an option exists this time round. Plus, shouldn’t there be a point where I can do it all on my own?

I must also admit that one of the worst things about the bubble is that it doesn’t limit me to the space itself (though that does indeed suck), but it limits my interactions with people outside of the bubble. I can’t talk to people anymore. Partially because I don’t know what to say, and partially because I’m embarrassed about being a narcissistic, scatter brained mess (and who on earth wants to have anything to do with that?). It’s easier just to not talk to people. Their lives are going so well, and the last thing I want to do it be some kind of damper in that.

Anyway. The social worker has given me some mundane tasks to accomplish (leave the house twice a day, even if only to do a quick walk around the block), cook a proper meal (apparently eating cereal for dinner every night isn’t great?), and get in contact with some people she suggested. I’ve yet to technically accomplish any of these things since our appointment on Wednesday, and I feel beyond pathetic about it. But tomorrow’s a new day and all that.


Explaining Panic: An Open Letter

I’ve become accustomed to explaining (or attempting to explain) anxiety and panic disorder to people. Seriously, I should just print out little cards with the CMHA blurb written on them and pull it out whenever I meet someone new.

“Hi, I’m Spencer. Are you familiar with panic disorder? Here’s a leaflet…

What is panic disorder?

Panic disorder involves repeated and unexpected panic attacks. A panic attack is a feeling of intense fear or terror that lasts for a short period of time. It involves physical sensations like a racing heart, shortness of breath, chest pain, dizziness, shaking, sweating or nausea. Some people feel like they’re having a heart attack or suffocating, others fear that they are dying.

Panic attacks can be a normal reaction to a stressful situation or a part of another mental illness. With panic disorder, panic attacks seem to happen for no reason. People who experience panic disorder fear more panic attacks and may worry that something bad will happen as a result of the panic attack.

Got it? Awesome. Please keep it in mind in the future! Oh, and nice to meet you!”

Now, of course it’s never that straightforward and simple, but I’ve made a point over the last 5 years or so to not shy away from talking to people about it. Chances are that if we have even casual contact with once another you’re going to see me having an attack eventually.

Unfortunately, every once in awhile I reach a place of thinking ‘what’s the point?’

Especially knowing from experience that such a definition is meaningless to most people. Because in spite of a diagnosis from a doctor and the above explanation, I still find myself stuck in regular conversations where I’m told things like “for god sake stop it, you’re an adult!” or “just get over it” or “try harder” etc, etc, etc.

I understand that the people around me are frustrated, I really do. But saying things like that on regular basis do nothing whatsoever to help. In fact, not surprisingly, they hinder. Do you not realize that whatever frustration you’re feeling, I’m feeling tenfold? Honestly, you think it sucks being around me for an hour or two- Try living inside my head. It’s a nightmare. And, bonus, after a short period of time in my company you get to leave. I don’t.

And this is every single day for me. I have panic attacks for little to no reason on a daily basis, meaning that on a daily basis my body freaks the fuck out when my brains sends a ‘you’re going to die‘ red alert signal. My blood pressure skyrockets, my nose bleeds, it feels like someone is standing on my chest, and I can’t stop crying. This has become my life. Do you honestly think I’m not beyond infuriated with it? Do you not think that’s why I’ve been going to doctor after doctor, trying medication after medication for years? Did it ever occur to you the lengths I’ve gone to find relief from this? The things I’ve done that I would never even utter on this blog, but done nonetheless because at the time they’re all that worked?

I’m sorry that me and my imbalanced brain are an occasional annoyance to you. But this is my (often unbearable) reality. I can’t even escape it when I sleep! Did you know I wake up sweating, nose bleeding, and crying from dream-induced attacks on a regular basis? Plus the panic/anxiety is often worsened by other factors like depression and PMS. Please don’t even ask me what the trifecta looks like… I’ve only just worked up the nerve to talk to my doctor about that one!

Anyway, the point being: I know I’m a lot to take and if you need to bow out, I understand. You won’t be the first and you certainly won’t be the last. But for everyone else- the family and ‘you’re stuck with me forever’ friends- please don’t be too harsh. All of that frustration and anger you’re feeling towards me, know that I’m feeling it towards myself too. Spending too long with me, does not a good relationship make. Small doses, all that. It’s the reason I try and keep a lot of space between visits. It’s the reason I try not to stay in one place for too long. It’s the reason I generally stick solo.

I’m sure that sounds fairly sad and pathetic to most, but it’s how I roll. I’ve always done my own thing, in my own time, and have been fortunate enough in life to find some people who get that. And the rest, well, I vent to them in passive-aggressive blogs that they’ll probably never read.

IMG_8524One day I’ll know this to be true.


Panic! At The… Everywhere

*Drops forehead onto metaphorical desk*

Up until about a month ago my panic attacks had subsided into an almost non-existent worry in my day-to-day life. Predictably, this is no longer the case.

I had stockpiled medication while in the UK and managed a good 2 months worth to bring back with me in June. Sadly that ran out in early September, and being unable to swing the $350 presecription, I switched to something my doctor gave me that looked like it had fallen off the back of a truck. It apparently should be equally as effective as the former medication, but after nearly 4 weeks I must strongly disagree.

I didn’t realize how well the former meds had been working until it stopped! I’m now back to several panic attacks a day, often with little to no trigger. It takes me a good 3-4 hours of tossing and turning to fall asleep at night, and most nights I spring awake just a couple hours afterwards from a dream induced panic attack (that as of late often include heavy nosebleeds).

And the icing on the cake is that I’ve now had run-ins with two different supervisors at work over this whole mess. Last weekend I had moved into a space just out of the customers line of site so I could catch my breath when the supervisor came over and said “oh, take your time, it’s not like we’re busy!” in the most sarcastic and condescending manner I’ve heard in a long time. And today I did the same (after asking someone to cover my spot for a few minutes) when a supervisor came up and asked “what is wrong with you?!” before rushing off, annoyed.

It’s not like I don’t know how inconvenient and annoying my panic attacks are. Trust me, I do. They’ve thoroughly ruined my entire life, so I really don’t need the extra outside bitching. And it certainly doesn’t help, and I’m actually nearing a point where I’m getting panic attacks before work from stressing that I might have a panic attack at work and wind up getting fired.

The incident last week happened before a break, at which time I wandered off, having no desire whatsoever to talk to anyone. Thankfully I’d brought my camera and went to sit in a nice quiet clearly, with a not-too-shabby view:


IMG_1258.PNGI still don’t know how to explain this all, or even if it’s worth bothering.

No Help, No Hope

I’m glad there’s been a lot of talk this past week about the state of mental health services. The reason it was brought to the front page is beyond horrific, but maybe some change will come out of this terrible tragedy. And it’s not just the United States who are guilty of such deplorable services- It’s everywhere. After the week/month/year I’ve had I think I’m qualified to make this assertion.

Continue reading “No Help, No Hope”