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Depressed, Bipolar, Or Metaphysically Challenged?

Get a free psychic reading right now at“Dear Isthemus,

I have struggled with depression for many years. I used to have highs and lows. During the highs I was invincible, untouchable and successful. Everything I touched seemed to turn to gold (in my mind). My personal appearance would be well-manicured, my house immaculate, gourmet meals were served for breakfast lunch and dinner. I would start new businesses, for having a husband, two children and a full-time shift job was not enough.

I launched these businesses with great success while on my emotional highs. Money excited me – not other people’s money, but the money I was able to make during these manic bouts.  I loved it and loathed it all at the same time. I barely needed to sleep. I would spend lavishly on those I loved.

There are such things as delusions, but not every unlikely vision that the mentally ill have is imaginary ~ Shepherd Hoodwin

I would bounce from relationship to relationship, but only during the highs. I would party and foot the bill for whomever was in my company. I divorced twice, but was engaged many times after the fact. In the moment, I always believed I was doing the right thing for the right reasons. I was a ‘man magnet’ when I was on a high.

Then the lows would hit. It felt like I had the flu. My whole body ached and I could barely move.  All that I had worked on building would start to crumble. I was no longer able to juggle all the responsibility I put onto myself. The mortgages, the car payments, the bills started piling up, unpaid and overdue.

The men I had aligned myself with were not so much contributors to the family, but rather drains. They had been hanging out with ‘Superwoman.’ So, who was this pathetic creature that was now in bed, not able to lift her head? Where did that generous, exciting, free-spending woman go?  The money maker was now malfunctioning. They had to kick the end of the bed and ask when dinner might be ready.

I would consult medical experts. I would describe the physical pain. Test after test revealed no answers, for I didn’t know I was depressed, and neither did they for the longest time. Painkillers were prescribed to me by the 100s. Migraine was diagnosed. Then Fibromyalgia.

Was I was imagining the pain?  No, your body is reacting to you depression. Wait, what depression, I’m depressed?

They eventually sent me to a psychiatrist, and he asked questions no other doctor had asked before. I answered him honestly… mostly. No one can know how bad it really gets; they would lock me up and throw away the key. My highs were not natural, they were the cause of some sort of chemical imbalance. My lows were not natural, I wasn’t ‘blue.’ I was completely immobilized and self-destructive.

My poor children. I look at them through the tears. What was their life really like? What did they see in me through their eyes? How many broken relationships did I drag them through, with emotionally abusive men. All was perfect when I was functioning, but when I wasn’t, I was of no use to any of them.

If I can’t feel, if I can’t move, if I can’t think, and I can’t care, then what conceivable point is there in living? ~ Kay Redfield Jamison

There was no help. Not one thought of picking up a dish or doing laundry or making a meal, for I had always done it all. I enjoyed doing it all. I was Superwoman. My children were young, and confused, and most probably scared. What happened to mom?

Nowadays, I am alone, with no partner. I feel it is better this way. My children are grown and I no longer have those incredible, productive highs. I know things about other people or situations, but I cannot, for the life of me, read things clearly for myself or those I am very close to. And I’m crazy, apparently.

I writhe in discomfort, for the light is breaking through the shield I have up to protect me. It is a reminder that life is right outside my cave, my cocoon, my soft, dreamy, floating being.

I’m paralyzed with fear. I constantly run through scenarios in my head about how to put off the inevitable. I reach for the bottles of pills that sit on the dresser next to me. I can get at least a few more hours in the mist before I have to come back again…

I am hiding. Just the coolness of the air touching my skin as I reach for the glass of stale water, makes me afraid.  I am exposed. ‘They’ can see me. ‘They’ might get me.

I am afraid. I am self-medicating. I swallow the bitter tasting pills and will them to work fast, so I count backwards from 1000. I pull the blankets over my head and curl up into the softness of the dark. I am blissfully fading I can feel the release, the detachment. No one can find me, I am in my safe place. I’m not even here.

My eyes snap open, I’m back. Fully alert, aware of the throbbing in my joints. I begin the whole process again.

There are not enough drugs, they aren’t working as I lay in the darkness grasping for blissful nothingness. I can feel the emptiness. No one can come near me, I won’t allow it, they can’t see me like this. What fools, they think I’m strong, but I am not, not in this moment. I’m not even here.

Okay, no more drugs. I cut myself off completely. What day is it? What? What month is it? Oh my God.

I force myself to bath, it’s tedious and uncomfortable. I should feel better, I don’t. I scan the house and assess the damage, I can taste the bile rising in my throat. I pick up the phone to reach out to someone, anyone.  I need help.  The phone is dead. I didn’t pay the bill.

Which of my feelings are real? Which of the me’s is me? The wild, impulsive, chaotic, energetic, and crazy one? Or the shy, withdrawn, desperate, suicidal, doomed, and tired one? Probably a bit of both, hopefully much that is neither ~ Kay Redfield Jamison

It takes what seems like hours to get the phone back on. I glance at the clock. Nope, only 20 minutes has passed. It was only cut off that morning, the internet worked. I could use chat. I pay the due amount and report the confirmation number.  Good, no alarms were raised, good timing. I don’t want to speak to anyone anyway. What am I going to say.  I have nothing to share. Time has passed, that is all.

I run my tongue over my teeth, when was the last time I brushed it? I go to the bathroom and stare at my pale and puffy reflection. I don’t even recognize myself. My hair is so long, it wasn’t that long last time I looked. I dismiss the mirror and shuffle to the kitchen, I feel like I’m not in my own body. I turn the kettle on to make coffee, there is none. I open the fridge and am assaulted by the retched smell. Dishes are piled everywhere, there isn’t even a clean mug. Doesn’t matter, there’s no coffee anyway.

I don’t know where to start, so I set down and try and figure out what I can do. I stand up and pick up a plate, I stare at it, it’s got dried food on it. I put it back down. The sink is full, so I have to take out all the dirty dishes before I fill up the sink. There is no room on the counter so I pile it on the floor.

I am so disgusted, this is not all right. This is so embarrassing. What if someone shows up? No, they won’t, you have the ‘flu’ – they know what that means. They are waiting for me to come up for air, I always do. I have to make it look like I am trying..just surface straighten at least.

I leave the dishes and go back to my online banking. Delivery service charges, many of them. I haven’t worked in over a month, maybe two? My savings has dwindled. I’m broke and there is no paycheck coming this month.

I abused my prescriptions again. The doctor doesn’t know it.  That is why I cut myself off, I can’t make them last until my next refill if I don’t. I can feel the throbbing behind my eyes, the stiffness and aching of every fiber of my being. I am already withdrawing from the overuse of prescription medications.

This isn’t working, how much longer can I hide? How long will it take me to get things sorted out?

I grab a sedative and stare at it in my hand. It should take the edge off, maybe I’ll have a nap. I put the bottle down. Just sleep off the anxiety, then I can do more. The pressure on my chest is unbearable, I feel like running, but there is no one and nowhere to run to.

Wait, there were messages in my email. How many? I open it up again and scan the senders. Requests from work. I turn Facebook back on. Eighteen inbox messages. Not bad this time, I can wade through them tomorrow… always tomorrow. I’ll feel better tomorrow.

A significant number of people diagnosed with mental illness have psychic abilities not yet under control. They may have true mental illness as well, including faulty neurological wiring and chemical imbalance. However, some people have mental breaks because of psychic abilities they don’t know how to handle ~ Shepherd Hoodwin

Now, right now, I need to feel the comforting arms of my pillows and my cozy down comforter, and I need to fade. Did I take something? I can’t remember. Wait, yes I did… or did I? I must have, I don’t feel too bad right now. Sleepy. Hazy. What if you don’t wake up this time? I don’t really care. I want to sleep until I feel right. Whenever that is. I always come up for air.

Am I really sick? Please help me understand.



Dear Afraid,

I look at your energy and I feel compelled to inform you that you are an empath. You are psychic and have access to many of the clair senses. These extra-sensory gifts can affect those with no earthly guides very deeply. Yes, it may come out as wild, out-of-control emotions, which you usually take personal responsibility for. Nobody has told you that absorbing the world’s problems, or even a family member or friend’s issues, can take its toll on you physically, and emotionally.

That is only one aspect.

I am an empath too and I have a little trick I have been using for many years, when my mood alters or changes for no real apparent reason. I ask myself, is this me or is it coming from someone else? I put my hand over my heart and ‘feel’ and listen for an answer.

At first it may seem that all your thoughts are your imagination, or your own ideas. It takes time and practice to understand that what you are sensing or feeling is not your own and it is not your imagination. Instead these thoughts and perceptions are metaphysical in origin.

Many people suffer from deep depressions that are not the ‘blues,’ but a clinical condition that makes the lows as black as they can be. It appears that you have functioned in both the unnatural highs and unnatural lows. You may not feel as though you were functioning in those lows. In reality, you were doing what you needed to do in that moment.

If you feel your doctor is not listening to you, find another.  Take no chances with your well-being. In conjunction with a medical practitioner, seek out those earthly guides to talk to about your physical well-being, as well as your emotional well-being. When I speak of earthly guides, they are those who work, live and breathe the metaphysical world, the unseen, who are now teachers in their field of expertise.

Too often people’s gifts are, at first glance, looked upon as an illness, or disorder, or a medical mystery that seems unsolvable.  There are no answers to all questions, but other gifted people can certainly guide you to the right books, teachers, classes, and concepts. They can work with you as an individual to help you sort through what your ‘knowing’ truly means to you and the world.

Having gifts like yours are sometimes experienced as or labeled as a ‘curse,’ but it is not. Having undiagnosed medical issues are more apt to be the curse.

It is possible that you may be suffering from some sort physical ailment, which you may be battling on top of what psychic gifts you were born with. But your metaphysical gifts may explain some of the symptoms, perceptions or thoughts you have been experiencing.

Finding the truth is a journey like no other. It will take time, patience and, of course, the right metaphysical coaches and medical experts for you to finally sort this out. Find the best people to help you…those with true vision and open minds.

I speak from experience, for I too, have dealt with a combination of physical ailments and metaphysical ignorance. Today, I am blessed with wonderful spiritual teachers, healers, friends and an open-minded physician who continue to assist me on my journey.

You have already reached out. Keep doing so, for the right person’s words or actions can make all the difference. You need not deal with your battles alone. Ever.

In love and light ,


About The Author: Isthemus

Isthemus is an experienced psychic advisor with her own Metaphysical Company based out of the Fraser Valley of British Columbia. A natural born empath, clairsentient, clairvoyant, intuitive Counsellor and psychic advisor. Patty still does Paranormal Investigations as well as teaching workshops on how to interpret signs. You can talk to Isthemus at

One Response to Depressed, Bipolar, Or Metaphysically Challenged?

  • There is a lot of people suffering from mental health, depression, anxiety or whatsoever. It is very common nowadays. Better seek a physician to validate your issues and able to prevent it in worsening the situation.

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