Round three of my ketamine treatments brought a higher dose, a Fear-and-Loathing level haze, and a longer stretch of relief from bipolar depression. The calm didn’t last forever, but it lasted long enough to give me hope.

Bipolar depression and treatment-resistant depression teaches you not to trust progress unless it’s loud. But what if the quiet moments count more? No fireworks. No epiphany. Just… relief that actually stayed longer this time.

By the time you’re labeled “treatment-resistant,” doctors say it like you’re a malfunctioning appliance. I’d tried the antidepressants, the mood stabilizers, the therapy worksheets, the lifestyle hacks. Nothing stuck. So there I was — sitting in a recliner snorting ketamine. Special K for the clinically exhausted.

A mental health diagnosis can feel like a punch to your self-esteem, but it doesn’t define your worth. Here’s how I learned to separate my identity from bipolar, ADHD, and depression — and the practical tools that help me move forward with grit, clarity, and compassion.

A raw, honest look at how exercise fits into the reality of depression. Running isn’t a cure, but sometimes it cuts through the mental chaos long enough to feel a moment of peace.

People think anxiety is fear of something. But mine is fear of feeling fear. It’s like being allergic to your own nervous system. And somehow, knowing it’s irrational doesn’t stop it — it just makes me anxious and annoyed at myself for being anxious. Truly an elite skill set.