Tag Archives: Mental Illness

Psychotherapy – a poem

Psychotherapy by Tessa Smeigh November 2018

am I crazy?




comes and goes just like clock work

I know what is next


Advocate for mental health and invisible illnesses, also a devout Christian

Author – http://www.finallyawriter.com (this blog contains my old work mostly although occasionally I do add something new here), new work is mainly on this blog http://www.tessacandoit.com


When Friends and Family Don’t Understand Bipolar Disorder

When Friends and Family Don’t Understand Bipolar Disorder

My family tries, but it doesn’t always happen. I try to not let it hurt me, but sometimes I end up crying about it especially when I feel left out and lonely and misunderstood. I am trying to mend a bridge now. I am trying to think like they do and how they must feel although that isn’t easy. Currently I am in a fairly decent place so my mind and brain aren’t sabotaging me.

I don’t feel it is my fault, but my brain doesn’t always join in on the plans in play.

Tessa – advocate for mental health and invisible illnesses, also devout Christian

Author – http://www.finallyawriter.wordpress.com (this blog contains my old work), new work is on this blog http://www.tessacandoit.com


Bipolar in the workplace…

If you had asked me years ago while I was working I would have told you I was a great employee and most of the time I was. I had great work ethics and was polite and respectful.

However my bipolar mood swings hid my true work habits and even when brought up I didn’t really believe what I was being told.

I couldn’t focus. I was constantly day-dreaming and every review notated this. I didn’t believe them.

I was extremely emotional. I cried at the drop of a hat or if you looked at me sideways. When my supervisor took me to the manager and said “you deal with her, I can’t take it anymore!” it started slowly sinking in. I started thinking about it and then I started to become more aware of my behavior and was shocked. This was normal behavior for someone with bipolar disorder, but I didn’t notice it.

It is possible to hold a job with bipolar disorder, but it certainly isn’t easy. There were lots of other incidents and I now am aware of them. I am on disability now and 61 years old so close to retirement age anyhow. I know longer have the thinking abilities anymore to hold a job anyhow.

Tessa – advocate for mental health and invisible illnesses, also devout Christian

Author – http://www.finallyawriter.wordpress.com (this blog contains my old work), new work is on this blog http://www.tessacandoit.com


Daniel Ray I mentioned you in my video!

Brunch and Drug Withdrawal…

The Con Man and Me… (non-fiction) – Part 1

Now this is either going to be a very long story or one I have to break up in pieces.  This was a stressful situation even at the beginning. I hate admitting I was fooled by a con man, but I am naive and shit happens.

During our separation my ex-husband and I had to stay in the same house. We couldn’t afford two places. We couldn’t afford lawyers and went to a do-it-yourself company that takes your filled out questionnaires and then types up all the legal papers and tells you what to do. All you pay is the typing fee and the court’s fees. My ex demanded custody of our son who was 12. Our 2 girls were adults by then.

I didn’t think that was unreasonable because I thought a son should be with his father and I couldn’t afford to support even myself which scared the living daylights out of me. He even said he wouldn’t demand child support. Good on that because I didn’t make much and he made over twice what I did.

I found out later when he nastily told me that if I had said no then he was going to court and tell them I was crazy (my Bipolar Disorder was bad at the time) and demand custody of his son.

This came from someone with violent rages. However I was the only one who had been to a Psychiatrist and on medication. He told me I embarrassed him.

I had visitation rights of course and I had him every other weekend and most of the summer. He has to move far away so we had to meet halfway between us. By this time my oldest daughter and I had found a duplex to rent together and so we only spent about 2 months after the divorce living all together in one house. We finally had to make the break. We only had 2 bedrooms so my son had to sleep on the couch.

After a few years my daughter wanted to live there with her boyfriend and I had to move out. I had no idea how this was going to work because I still made very little and had no one to share with anymore. I went to work at a job I recently had returned to and at lunchtime someone stopped by and asked if I had found anywhere yet. I said no not yet and someone listening to our conversation said he knew of a place near by work. He gave me the contact information and I called and was told to come over. I took my daughter with me.

Now it was the attic apartment in this huge old Victorian house. There were 8 or so apartments in there. There were actually 2 in the attic. The apartment had one bedroom and was very tiny, but the rent for this town is outrageous so I was surprised how low it was. Still more than I really could afford, but I wasn’t going to find better and I was working 2 jobs, had been since we moved into the duplex on our own. The bad thing was that it was 3 floors up. As I said the house was huge.

My daughter and I discussed it and I ended up putting in a deposit. We set the time of the move with the guy because he said he wanted to be there when I moved in.

The day arrived and my daughter, her boyfriend and a couple of his friends with a mover’s truck and experience loaded me up and we headed over at the appointed time.  The landlord wasn’t there and we were blocking a single lane street so we just started moving things in. Good thing these guys were movers because getting it up all the stairs that wound around each floor and the smaller ones leading to the two top apartments would have been impossible for the average person without experience. The landlord was fussing about not being there, but he was the one that set the time and we also had to get the truck back.

Now I had a small apartment with boxes stuffed everywhere. So was the furniture. I moved things around, but it was tight. The landlord gave me some shelves in a closet to put some of the extra boxes of stuff I didn’t need. And then he re-arranged my furniture and the place looked bigger. Turned out he was gay and that was one of his specialties. Worked well for me.

I had told him about my son and that he would be staying occasionally and I was afraid that would be a problem with a one bedroom apartment, but he said it didn’t matter to him.

We started seeing each other every day. He encouraged my son when he visited and gave him money for doing side jobs. By the time summer came we were all close and did a lot like a family would except he and I weren’t sexually active since I was the wrong sex. People thought we were a family around town. He said since it was so tight upstairs that he had an extra room in his apartment my son could stay in. Things seemed ok and it was the same building just 2 floors down. So I agreed.

I am going to stop this here because this is getting long. Watch for Part 2.


Hallucinations – visual, audible and touchable

Ignore the set-up. This is copied from letter to my psychiatric nurse.

I am steadying out. Mood swings stopped, but other things getting worse. I mentioned some of these before.


These are a major problem right now. I see things, hear things, feel the touch of things even. I wake up screaming. I wake up feeling a cat’s claws in my leg. A cat jumps on my bed and legs. My cat always did that, but there is no cat here with me now.


While waiting for my son to get his meal I saw a plane and still after all these years I can’t look at a plane without fear.

We also happened to be in front of the restaurant Bob (married boyfriend for 18 years) and I would go to so of course memories came.


Between the dreams and memories no wonder I am going nuts. If I could remember the nightmares I could write some gruesome horror stories.

All that sleep and I want to go back to sleep. I am bored. I could be playing word games or reading or watching Netflix or writing in my blog. I haven’t felt like it. I am still getting new readers, but if I don’t pick up the pace and work on the blog people will leave.


I have sex on my mind, sex and memories. I developed young in all ways. Probably part of the reason why kids didn’t like me, plus I like older men. Guys my age are still jerks.


I don’t want sex right now just enjoying my memories and in some cases my remorse. I can’t remember the 10 Commandments right now, but I know I broke quite a few of them. I just looked them up. More than one Commandment. I had better keep them in mind. I surely don’t want to go to hell.


I woke up baking a cake (make believe) in my bed. I was sitting there stirring, pouring and mumbling the recipe.


The worst one was where the slimy huge green worm came through my pillow and licked my face.


I had ones where 2 different types of squishy colored bodies like play-doh (me) had large holes in me and worms, purple polka dots, were crawling in and out of the holes.


Today there were pins poking into me all over. Painful! Now that could have been the Fibromyalgia, maybe.


I wake up yelling and screaming after some of them.


What do you think? Could these all be a sort of hallucination, my medications, I grew up in a family that believed in ghosts. I do believe in them, but therapists and psychiatrists try to make me think otherwise that ghosts don’t exist. I could write a book about this. Either way I don’t need this added to my psychiatric problems.


Because of his belief in the other world, my dad, told me to ask my deceased mom for answers.


Another one I have is “word salad” and people can’t understand me and I now know why. The hospital dx me bipolar 1 with psychosis last time. That is when this started getting worse.


Sorry to bother you, but I am going to end up in the hospital again if this isn’t fixed somehow.