Or visit my new post, “Frequently Asked Questions” if you prefer the Q&A style.

Amanuensis is the name I chose to describe what I have become. A writer-scribe who takes dictation from the very thoughts flying around in my head before, during and after I dream. It is also my own personal nickname. Most nicknames are the pet names that friends and family create for you whether you hate them or not. I mean the people and the name. The name may have to do with something that occurred 40 years prior. I will never be called “Precious” or “Sweety.” As a female metal sculptor who works in copper, brass, bronze, steel and silver, I have to appear severe to be taken seriously. Most people ask me if I make jewelry, when I tell them I weld…

I weld,
I hammer,
I form,
I sculpt,
I make in words and objects.

Somehow, along the way, I became a breeder. I never intended to have four children and yet they seem to exist. The statement “Mother: Three Boys One Girl” is dry, like the names of my sculptures: Sunflower #12, Big Sunflower, Mini enamel flower. I may discuss them, but they have their own forum-elsewhere. I am three children past the documentation of their lives phase. I am still amazed by them all, beautiful creatures, but after 17 plus years, I have to rediscover the flavor in the tootsie-pop. Hard candy exterior, soluble, but you really do have to soak me to get me to reveal the tasty bits.

I have a feeling that when the weather improves my blog will be less dark. I am an organic gardener of vegetables, flowers, medicinal and edible herbs and competing invasive plants. There will be nature to describe and photography that could make me happy. Which translates into fun light poetry instead of obscure dark references to my ever twitching hormones. I do yoga as I weed, or I used to before it all went to hell. Yeah, my neighbors think I’m a little odd.

I’m trying to get back up out of depression and anxiety. It is a sinkhole that follows you around, not quicksand, there is no slow descent, you just step off the cliff that you never saw. It’s like walking quickly in the fog without paying attention to the fact that you may hit a tree, or step off the edge. The good thing about depression, (did I really say that,) is that you never die when you fall. Sure, you scare yourself to death. You might have a concussion. Need to sit still for a week eating Tofutti and listening to Morrissey.

Woah! I just got back from a two hour internet departure on wikipedia. I meandered down the bunny trail of Morrissey, Mike Joyce, The Cure, Robert Smith, The Guardian, Bruce Springsteen, Caroline Sullivan, Courtney Love and wound up at Kurt Brindley http://kurtbrindley.com .

Extra thoughts:I have always been a singer. I can’t write about it. What should I write about singing? Why should I write about my voice? It is another part of the me that is not anonymous.

I believe in vernal pools. I feel for the creatures that are very slowly losing all of their natural habitat. Living next to a forest is a gift. It is one of my tethers to sanity.

This is my style of writing in the mornings. When I rein it in, it can be a brief poem-y thing. I play with words. When I don’t, you know it just came out of my head in a runonsentence.

I am forever my own personal scribe,
Amanuensis Sobriquet-Reverie
Pic-01032015-028 - Version 2

101 thoughts on “Who Is She? September 9, 2014”

  1. 🙂 Hi sweetie :p

    No one called me sweetie either. We look so strong that until and even after we fall noone gets it. Even they get it, we cannot receive help as they seem so superficial which we often answer with a superficial “Thanks!”

    So we are not sweetie pies but not that strong either when it comes to falling. But, when it comes to getting up, yes we are that strong.

    Your blog’s image at the header made me feel bad, it felt like disease on a tree’s body trying to hurt it. My profile picture is very depressing too. So, we are honestly expressive and thank God we are creative.

    Some way out, maybe the best way out for introverts like us 🙂

    I know that in a short time we will be creating art out of energy. Not a shiny happy people energy as you know we are not sweeties, but an enthusiastic one like a volcano.

    Love you and hug you :=) sweetie :))))

    Alex

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  2. Dear Precious:)

    Thank you for reading and replying to my about page. I have some work to do this year. Rebuilding my “bat cave,” strength and self sufficiency.

    I’m working on the blog header images changing. Some of my blogs load with the featured images that I posted for each blog, some are the fixed image of the close up of my dark encaustic paintings. I’ll try to deal with that tomorrow. I had enough fun today with my background being burgundy with dark gray text earlier, so no more tweaking of themes for the day.

    I think this community is a very supportive healthy thing for us.

    Good night, there’s a Kindle book calling me so I can fall asleep in front of it in about five minutes.

    Take care,
    Amanuensis

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  3. Dreaming is good, taking action on that dream is even better. Where there are actions lies mistakes and the difference between living or existing is what one does after the mistakes. He/she who suffers the most experiences a story that can soon touch the world. Tell your story. …I’m listening.

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  8. Hi Amanuensis,

    I love that your writing is a production line of the thoughts in your head. I especially like your description of “a sinkhole that follows you around”. I too know what that’s like and may write about my experience one day. I applaud you.

    Clare

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  9. Hi Clare, Thanks for reading the post. I never really thought of it as a production line, but that’s how it comes out. Ah, the sinkhole has had you too. I wish we had flashlights in there to flash morse code to our friends:)

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  12. Years ago, how many I’m reluctant to say, I attended a summer camp. I always spent most of my parents’ money in the craft shack – or cabin (whatever is was deemed). I became quite adept at making lanyards with huge, colorful spirals, diamond or hatch-work necklasses. I also spent one summer hammering, rubbing and staining copper.

    Braving the internet world of other writers, craftspersons, photographers and artists is both intimidating and invigorating. Especially whenever a visitor gives feedback. I don’t consider hitting the “like” button as feedback, so I will always comment.

    Thank you for stopping by my writing studio — and for following my work. It — like me — is a hodgepoge of sometimes thoughtful writing. I’ll return here to look through yours. Today is Clean the Refrigerator Day — which comes along every few months — and I am steeped in Clorox and other cleansers that will no doubt end in the death of me. Good thing Clean the Oven Day did not fall on this day as well, or that would have meant my certain demise.

    — SM

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    1. “Braving the internet world of other writers, craftspersons, photographers and artists is both intimidating and invigorating. Especially whenever a visitor gives feedback.” I’m still at the intimidation phase of my blogging, (I saw you hate the word,) but I feel as if this is the best way for me to express things while I sort myself out. I have always written, but I got slapped on the wrist pretty hard, for being honest and posting about my life. One day, I will take my previous postings and write a self published book about being a mother, wife, business owner, slug.

      Thank you so much for taking the time to comment on my About me page. I do appreciate your time.

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  16. Hi there. Hope the move isn’t wearing you down too much. Just wanted to let you know that PG and I went ahead with the round robin poem. I set a real quick site up called (yes, you guessed it) Springboard Poetry: Watch Out for Whiplash! I’ve already submitted PG’s email address to make him a co-editor. Was wondering if it was ok to do that with yours as well. I won’t do anything until I hear from you. And for now it’s set to private. Might be fun. We’ll see what happens. Here’s the link: https://springboardpoetry.wordpress.com/2015/04/13/hello-world/

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  17. It was fascinating to read about your writing process. Beautifully expressed. I am just reading a book by Carl Tighe about creative writing. He is the husband of one of my oldest friends and has researched and led on the importance of creative writing. It is hard to put it out there but hope blogging gives you a steady stepping stone to confidence and sharing, maybe publishing more. And maybe we don’t have to worry about getting our feet wet if we slip off our stepping stones!

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    1. Thank you, my process is by the seat of my pants. My last real intense writing class was AP English in high school. Pretty rigorous program. That was back when I could inhale books. I would take out five books a day at the library read three that night, then go back the next day and rotate the books like that. I learned to write from reading and reading and writing journals, over and over for years. In business, I wrote contracts in english, because I found legalese to be unnecessary and confusing for our clients. My attorney would laugh when he read my contracts, but he said they were accurate and very clear.

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    1. Thank you for reading this post. Sometimes it feels so frustrating knowing that I will never be appreciated by my ex for everything I gave up to be super woman for my army of young men.

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  21. I’ve never had a nickname–I just don’t seem to be the kind of person who’s available for that–but a friend did once give me a middle name (I didn’t have one of those either) for a Christmas present.

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  22. Stopping by to ask if you would be interested in an invitation to a challenge “3 Quotes” which gives us a chance to present 3 quotes in our blog, and invite 3 other bloggers per quote (9 all told for the 3), to join in the fun. You can post 1 post a day, or all three at once. I don’t like to just drop a person’s name in a challenge without knowing if they would be interested. Let me know 🙂 Thanks!

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    1. Greetings 🙂 “I’ve got stacks of notebooks full of thoughts and traumas. I’ve got boxes full of slides, and external hard drives… but I do not seem to possess the discipline it takes to actually sit your butt down long enough to write the thing.” I’ve also got tons to write, display, organize and edit, but never seem to control the ADHD enough to complete big goals. I’ve learned to work on little tasks. Sometimes, I complete them. I grow things instead, like small humans.

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  29. some … or much … … of my depression isn’t real depression. i call it’ ‘sweet melancholy”. a chance to pay tribute to loves and lives lost, mistakes made along the way and other things or not … the feelings are just there. they somehow give comfort. a little sadness especially if it’s the sweet kind … is good for the soul. gives us a chance to live our lives through contrast which … is how we live our lives.

    deeper depression tempers my ADD. makes me more introspective … ”mulling” …

    or it’s a killer with its circular, constant question asking, different answers every time but the same over and over never finding the answer until time runs out and some calmness returns.

    i spend a lot of money on composition and spiral notebooks. never ending sentences and thoughts about what is fucking me up at the moment.

    most of the time though, i’m a satisfied eccentric person. depression wise … i’ve paid my dues. depression? are we supposed to learn great truths from it? fuck no, it’s just a pain in the ass. oh! … sorry!

    i’m past the grieving stage for lost love. i have grieved and i have lost. but, i have the following discussion; can you have real love if you’ve never had your heart broken? i’d hate to think so but … wull … you never know and broken hearts are a bitch.

    Life is cruel. but we’re designed to feel ALL of the emotions so … there is no silver lining. there’s just joy and the sense that ”life is good” when it is good.

    but then, the wheel spins and comes around …….

    there’s a wonderful poem i wrote … a ”two parter” about men who use women. i think you might find it interesting. i’ll let you know the title unless … maybe you read it already??

    i enjoy your writing. straight ahead and clear. i see a visage of your face appearing from the fog or mist behind the words. words and feelings tightly fit the person you are, very close to the surface. unafraid to be out there for people to see.

    easy to see and know the personage of the person attached to the words.

    it’s kind of nice to feel the same sweet melancholy from you (that gives a soft edge to the sharp edges that the ups and downs of life can bring) that i feel.

    jeeze … without sweet melancholy how would we learn anything? forgive me! … i’m not a know it all so ….. anyway …

    thanks for visiting and for being intrigued enough that you read several of my pieces. ks

    i don’t follow the supposed rules for making ‘comments’. i believe if you are going to make a comment … make a fucking comment! oh! .,.. sorry again … ! ks

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    1. Kurt, you made me laugh out loud. You are direct and to the point. BTW, I swear like a sailor, so no worries. Yeah, the comment thing is funny, but a diatribe sometimes deserves a diatribe response. I enjoy interacting with folks who “get it” have lived it and can relate to where they think I’m coming from. I read a bunch of your two-parters and I think I see why you write them that way. I’m long winded, so I write in prose poetry looking for a pattern that keeps me distracted enough to get my point across, otherwise every piece would be 3000 words. I like your poetry, it’s like a different person wrote it. Very clear, poignant, complete. Not a different person, but a very well (non ADD) developed other part of your brain. We all have our different parts don’t we?

      I appreciate your comments, response, opinions and thoughts they ease the pain of what my brain thinks I need to listen to. I call them the “What Ifs?” What if tomorrow is a bad day? What if I’m late to work,? What if I fall into a black hole? What if a Dune worm were to come up in the middle of the highway and swallow my car? Would I like the smell of Spice? Would it be dark in there? Do Dune worms poop crushed pellets like owls or entire cars with the occupants inside alive, but forever traumatized? 🙂 My brain is a special place and so is yours. So nice to meet you. I will go back and click the pieces I read, I was reading fast and didn’t click like though I did like most. I was trying to get a sense of you, so I just was zipping along your two parters. I’m glad you got to eat without killing anyone, getting hit by a car or assaulted. I will visit again, while I’m not sitting in a library parking lot, procrastinating about something I’ve forgotten.
      Depression is dark, pain and remorse, I have not come to terms with that. I will, but I have another 54 years to make that progress.

      Thank you for your genuine comment. You make me laugh and smile. I appreciate that.

      -ASR

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      1. wull … i wasn’t really trying to be funny … just kidding!

        did you read “zumba my ass”, ”where’s my passport look under the underwear you idiot”, or diary of a madman?”

        writing prose poetry forces me to write with rhythm usually a four beat but flexible enough to stray if it is necessary. i think rhythm is so important. it spins the thoughts around a certain gravitational pull whereby words, not even considered, pop into mind or, it weaves words into sparcest content or … maybe it just helps us to march to the beat of a different drummer.

        wull … anyway … i can’t figure out if your obsession with worms is because you thought the first ‘Dune” movie was such a fucking freeking ridiculously cheezy (so much so that it was almost entertaining) movie that you’ve been making stupid jokes about worms ever since …. ((hey! don’t be insulted! ‘stupid is funny” as far as i’m concerned) either that or you had a bad experience when you went fishing with your dad one day.

        but anyway … wull, jeeze … some of your remarks sound so much like some to the funnier stories i’ve written. i wish i could get over my sense of blatant self promotion and suggest a couple you might find entertaining. (which is code for, ”please ask!”)

        speaking of self promotion, i don’t do any … .

        i figure fuck it if you want to read me and like it and want to come back, great! me? i’d rather spend my time writing than reading the soppy love poems or the philosophical bullshit i try to read that is mostly wishful thinking that the person will be drawn into the world of light if they only believe in themselves.

        i’m so vain and self centered that most of the time i read my own stuff more than i read anybody else’s. i’m trying to ”get it” since when i’m finished i’m never sure how i ”got it”.

        i only wish i could give myself a ‘like’ every time i read my own shit because i’d have really high numbers if i did.

        if i liked myself a really, really lot maybe they’d want to run an ad for Goodwill Industries on my blog site.

        i can’t see myself wading through all this shit or just going through and clicking on ‘follow’ so the other person will ”follow” you.

        so i choose to be unsuccessful at getting high numbers but at least i have a reason. what was that again?? oh! … or maybe it’s just fear of success?? but then … how could that be if i’ve been a loser most of my life? or maybe that’s the reason why! (you see .. i don’t do the ”what if” thing i do the ‘overalalytic’ thing that goes with being ADD AND BIPOLAR. (plus minus .. plus minus … plus minus … you can go on forever)….. Just kidding! jeeze … i think i need some of that spice.

        by the way, didn’t victor herbert write those books?

        all my wordpress.com life i’ve been waiting for someone to make a REAL comment to me. it’s especially frustrating since i make great well thought out comments to people who i feel are worthy of having a comment made and if you’re going to make a comment why not make a REAL comment, one that will create some self awareness; an objective view that gives some insight.

        but i hate it when i step over the line and become a fucking know it all … which … i think i did once.

        but, take it from me. “this is a well written piece blah blah blah.” is not a comment.

        but YOUR diatribe was wonderful. a great comment that i learned from.

        this is a great comment with everything a comment should have except you didn’t use the word shit or mention sex one time … well .. maybe that one part … but that’s a private matter.

        you know … i could go on and on and i know you want me to but I HAVE A LIFE you know so jeeze, give me a break.

        i have to go ”like” myself a few more times before going to bed. WHOA . !! ….. now all i have to do is find a way to write shit. oh! … sorry … again … !

        so, thanks for everything. i think you are a fresh of breath air … ks

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  31. ME not ADHD? …… hahaha …..

    so … if you don’t mind me saying and PLEASE forgive my inquisitive, nosey, it’s none of my business, pushy, rude, assumptions false assumptions and misinterpretations but … ok … since you’ve been divorced and … if you were a sculptor before the inevitable that happens to fifty percent of married couples … did you find that along with all of the angst and pain and self recrimination that goes with these life changing events, you art changed?

    Has it become darker? Like, are you doing a lot of poison ivy, kudzu vines, torpedo grass or fungus instead of gardenias, hibiscus, morning glory and lily’s of the field?

    has your art become a vehicle through which you express your anger/rage. or has your art stayed the same while writing has become the vehicle through which you choose to explore the many colors of your life and self and being in hopes of finding the beautiful painting or sculpture of photograph that lies within you waiting to be discovered?

    my life at this point can be summed up by my belief in a quote by t.s. eliot (sp) that to me is the only real ”truth” i’ve ever encountered in life. i don’t have the exact words with me but to paraphrase it goes something like this; as humans we are driven to explore but the result of all our explorations will be to arrive where we started and to know that place for the first time.”

    it’s a great excuse for seeing the world through the eyes of a child after having lived most of our lives as disillusioned, bitter, resentful adults. think about becoming a child again with all the contrasting experiences we’ve had as adults; the knowledge of how NOT to be (in most cases) or to know which door to pass through which, on the other side of, lies freedom …

    i can see a beautiful child inside of you, pretty close to the surface chomping at the bit to get out full time … lying in wait for you to release it from its binds.

    i have a feeling your inner child comes to visit from time to time but has yet to be invited to stay. but then what the hell do i know? i didn’t even start thinking about this shit until i came out of a 14 year prison sentence for manslaughter. JUST KIDDING! kidding? hmmmmm … ks take care …

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    1. No, my work just stayed the same, I was just making more of it cause I was avoiding being around the constant complaining, cock blocking and hostile staring down of my welding students.

      I was writing before but like I said my whole collection of journals got seized and used against me in court, proof of insanity… Not really a magistrate, basically, said, “Are you kidding? These are journals.”

      My writing has changed, I’m a lot more blunt and have less humor and sarcasm.

      Wull, (I borrowed that from you, thank you so much) my first experienced post violent pen pal:) I do believe in the inner child theory, I just need to be left alone so that the crazy crap can roll off my inner/soon to be outer child.
      Take care Kurt

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      1. yippeeeeeee …. .

        wull … i’m only guessing but, he must have been doing the cock blocking AFTER the final fizzle but … cock block?? are you from indonesia? just kidding! jeeze … you must be from down under. i’ve never heard the term but it’s fun to contemplate ….

        in any case, you are not jaded, your writing is funny …it has a world weary outlook but it’s a humorous world weary outlook.

        jeeze … it seems every woman’s problems these days seem to revolve around ass hole men. not that i’m not an asshole at occasionally but … in entirely different ways.

        it’s not that i’m an asshole though … it’s more like my inner child takes over then i become a dumb shit like kids are … you know … do you ever see them walking around like they’re on another planet … acting stupid like kids do, not giving a shit, making faces, talking, walking funny with that dumb look kids can get … you give ’em that little wave, look around like you’re lost and if they wave back you know you’re a member of the club. that little wave is like a secret hand shake

        you are automatically considered to be a member of the not giving a shit, acting stupid, child’s club.

        acting stupid is a dead give away that you are mentally balanced therefore … you are a kid … shoot … i’ve had little babies try to raise up their tiny little hands when i wave at them.

        oh! … sorry! … i didn’t mean to talk about myself so much … i HATE being self centered …..

        anyway, you know what i think galls the shit out of men the most?? the realization that a woman can prove she’s self sufficient.

        maybe that’s why there’s all that cock blocking going on; SEX! the last bastion of hope a man clings to …

        cock blocking … hmmmm …. i’m still fascinated. jeeze, it sounds like cock blocking could be some strange co-ed game of football. Like ”I was blocking cocks left and right but we got the shot off just in time to score!”

        wull … life’s a fucking game isn’t it?

        anyway, take care. remember these words of advice i give a lot of people (because i’m so fucking smart) don’t worry about being cock blocked … put together a good game plan then be like a speedy half back, run around your blockers and score big time.

        i hate it when people say ‘good luck’ … take care … ks

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  32. http://www.yourdictionary.com/cockblock is the only link I have, proof, that there was more to the definition that had nothing to do with sex. There I go, this is why I love the dictionary and should use it BEFORE I use a word that has such a unique sexual connotation. Cockblocking in my intent, is someone who stops you from doing something you want to do, like be an artist, when they like that you are supporting them instead. Sure I could have called it being an asshole (I’m pretty sure I use that word in my head fairly often), but, I’m pretty pissy about the subject (NO?) and you got an off the cuff response from me because you asked for one.

    The more I did art things for me, the harder it became at work (increase in hostility level.) Comments started flying around about what I wasn’t doing for him, so I stopped doing things for him. Counter and parry, by doing things for myself. For example: If you’re going to accuse me of doing nothing for you, I will show you what that action really looks like. Also, being accused of using sex as a way to get things is usually so that the insecure A-hole’s way of proving that that is what he was doing from the very beginning.

    There you have it. As many grammatical errors as I can leave uncorrected in an effort to get the point across on a topic that makes my blood boil as I try to teach my sons, not to be a-holes. Wow! This post is going to be archived. Sooner rather than later.

    “…in any case, you are not jaded, your writing is funny …it has a world weary outlook but it’s a humorous world weary outlook.” Thank you, better to laugh while telling about the misery than to just be miserable.

    “jeeze … it seems every woman’s problems these days seem to revolve around ass hole men” It could be more about the fact that women have been raised to accept that treatment from men, which I find to be morally abhorrent, and I needed to work on my own self esteem to see that in order to be a real part of a team, the other partner needs to re-ci-pro-cate (not like the saw) the care taking abilities toward the other party. When it became clear as mud that there was “no chance in hell, hell no, I’d never do that for you.” I asked for a cold business transaction to leave without leaving, so that our children could be taken care of. That was not appreciated in the least, so I got booted, screamed at and accused of atrocities. I am stronger, but I will disagree about the jaded part. the question really is how long does this torture go on for. As long as I let it, or as long as it is fun for the narcissistic a-hole. What is the stopping point in an adult throwing a temper tantrum, when they use children as shields, weapons, pawns and cannon fodder. redundancy in the british sense applies here as well as the american way.

    I have surrendered to moving on, but the ex keeps jumping out in front of my car, telling people I tried to hit him (do I need to say figuratively?) otherwise, I don’t know can you blog from prison? Like I said, the behavior that I’m supposed to accept is abhorrent, like this county’s legal system is unique and does not protect a poor person until you can prove that you have lost IQ points and teeth to the other part. Sanctioned physical abuse is just as disgusting and like he did it himself. And on that happy note, just know that I don’t get to have this much fun one day a week for the rest of my life, just long 8 collective years is long enough, for the children to get to know their father (truly as the piece of work that he is,) until they turn 18 and can be told the reality of the world from their mother’s point of view as young men who will need more therapy that anyone can shake a stick at.

    This response has been brought to you by the letters C and A and the numbers 18 and 2,920.

    Rambling along, singing this song, day by day.

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      1. I thought you must be feeling shaky, or something. Do whatever is best for you, and keep focussed on the things you’re sure of. Have a hug-fest with that little girl of yours, and here’s one from me {{{hug}}} xxx

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      2. Thanks for the hug Jane. I appreciate it and I need it. I try to do gardening, but I’m not accomplishing much. I can’t tell if my expectations are unrealistic. I want to have a lot of food that I grow with my kids, but I don’t have energy. I spend a lot of time staring out windows dreaming of the next season’s harvest…

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      4. 🙂 I’m so tired Jane. I fell in the yard this morning. Too scary, being outside. I have to sit in a chair with Girlie running around, I get so dizzy. Simple things are harder than they should be right now. I’ve been resting more. I can’t even work part time. I’m sorry to complain. I feel like typing is a waste of energy most of the time. That’s why I’m reading so much. I’m a bit off and I can’t explain it well. It feels like a buzzing in my head, with pressure, then I sleep fitfully. I am unsettled. You are kind to talk to me.

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      5. You really are at a low point, aren’t you? See – this is the limitation of online friends, they can’t come round and give you a massage with oils of lavender and chamomile, they can’t cook meals for you or watch your daughter while you meditate. They can’t do sod all except send hugs and messages of love.
        If I caught a plane and marched over to wherever the hell you live, then perhaps I would deserve to have you call me kind. I’m just another loser who’s bleeding for me and you and the whole sad world, and I wish we could all get together and make it right xxx

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      6. The cyber hugs and messages do help. It is energy that is more positive than mine at the moment. tip me into half full, from my normal half empty glass view. You are kind, no matter the distance. I wrote a blog will post it soon. Thanks bunches Jane. Your words make my tiny piece of the world brighter. 🙂 Big hugs to you.

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      12. Thanks Jane. I used to be more independent. The doctor was right in a way. I had a relapse of my self esteem, not my mental health. Self doubt pulls me under all the damn time. Nipping at my heels. Causing a fog, increasing my anxiety and lack of attention span. I am untreated for ADHD and I can’t focus.

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      14. My adhd medication was amphetamine salts. An appetite suppressant and I was dropping weight. I reached 130lbs 25 pounds below my ideal weight. Doctors don’t want you on anything that could be perceived of as addictive. So, I am unmedicated.

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      16. Here they have decided that there is an epidemic of abuse of prescription drugs. So, certain medications are no longer friendly. They also took my off my Klonapin (anti anxiety med.) Though the reasoning was that it was counteracting my anti depressant. I understand that. But to declare that I don’t have ADHD and tell me that it is a sign of being bi-polar is a new take on my life that leaves me hanging upside down with my skirt over my face, flashing the world.

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      20. I think the doctor only sees what he wants to believe and all symptoms, past history and behavior point to bi-polar.
        This doctor does not believe what I say. What kind of beneficial relationship could we ever have if he is essentially calling me a liar? He says he does not treat ailments that are not cause by a chemical imbalance. I was abused but that does not factor into my diagnosis? He does not instill confidence.

        My new therapist was hopping mad when he heard how I was treated.

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Any thoughts on the above post are appreciated! Otherwise, I think I must be living under a rock.