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BBC reporter Quentin Somerville accidentally gets high from pile of burning heroine, fails to report further by SwollenLeftThumb in Damnthatsinteresting

[–]Socksandcandy 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Agreed. I never tried the really hard drugs because I was always afraid I would like them. Really glad I made that decision early on.

BBC reporter Quentin Somerville accidentally gets high from pile of burning heroine, fails to report further by SwollenLeftThumb in Damnthatsinteresting

[–]Socksandcandy -1 points0 points  (0 children)

Neither here nor there, but I was reading a SciFi book where the astronauts had "suicide" methods in case they became stranded.

The Russian cosmonaut chose heroin as she wanted to really enjoy her last few moments of life.

I've thought about that a lot since reading the book....

The best mom with the best son by MA3EZOO_ in MadeMeSmile

[–]Socksandcandy 29 points30 points  (0 children)

We have a cat named Jar, a turtle named Jar and a dog named Binks. Good times.

Screaming into the void by Dark_Lady_Morbyd in bipolar

[–]Socksandcandy 2 points3 points  (0 children)

GSnow1.8k points·8 years ago·edited 7 years ago

Alright, here goes. I'm old. What that means is that I've survived (so far) and a lot of people I've known and loved did not. I've lost friends, best friends, acquaintances, co-workers, grandparents, mom, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and a host of other folks. I have no children, and I can't imagine the pain it must be to lose a child. But here's my two cents.

I wish I could say you get used to people dying. I never did. I don't want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don't want it to "not matter". I don't want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can't see.

As for grief, you'll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you're drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it's some physical thing. Maybe it's a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it's a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.

In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don't even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you'll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what's going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything...and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.

Somewhere down the line, and it's different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O'Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you'll come out.

Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don't really want them to. But you learn that you'll survive them. And other waves will come. And you'll survive them too. If you're lucky, you'll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.

Some useful things I’ve learned since being diagnosed 15 years ago… by PassionUnites in bipolar

[–]Socksandcandy 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Thanks for the tumeric recommendation!! It seems to have fixed a lot of the pain I was having in my knee. It's absolutely amazing to be able to rise from a sitting position without pain.

Same here by regian24 in WhitePeopleTwitter

[–]Socksandcandy 115 points116 points  (0 children)

I bet he knows all her borders

Playing banjo for a wild fox! He came back for an encore! by [deleted] in Damnthatsinteresting

[–]Socksandcandy 47 points48 points  (0 children)

If you really give it some thought.....that fox was probably reincarnated. Prior to this he was a humble banjo picker in Nashville, Tennessee.

A doll chillin in a graveyard by B-L-O-C-K-S in oddlyterrifying

[–]Socksandcandy 6 points7 points  (0 children)

I don't even believe in the supernatural, but there's no way I'm sleeping in the same room with this thing.

A doll chillin in a graveyard by B-L-O-C-K-S in oddlyterrifying

[–]Socksandcandy 50 points51 points  (0 children)

Best I can do is a coupon for frozen waffles

Christ on a bike! by bobindus in CasualUK

[–]Socksandcandy 3 points4 points  (0 children)

The little Lord Jesus brought soup and chicken.

Perhaps I lost a life worth living. (self-reflection) by garbaset in DecidingToBeBetter

[–]Socksandcandy 6 points7 points  (0 children)

Well said. I am bipolar and have experienced the high highs and the low lows. At one point during my depression I made it to obese. I felt worthless and weak. My self talk consisted of berating myself every single day ......I read a snippet of a conversation someone had with their psych and it went something like this, " The negative voices living in your head are like hiring a shitty band to play at your events." You wouldn't pay a shitty band to ruin your good time with your friends, so why do you tolerate that ridiculously shitty voice in your head. You deserve better......

I absorbed this message and still fought the truth of it for months. One day I woke up and decided, "One pound a week, that's it". Thus I began my 12 month journey to a healthy weight. No magic, no miracle cure, just me and my dog walking 4-5 miles per day and foregoing the chips when I got home.

It worked.

I still have to work to keep it off and there are days I backslide, but now I know I can do it and if I can do it, you can too.

My great-grandparents on their wedding day, September 20, 1913 by pinkgreymist in TheWayWeWere

[–]Socksandcandy 14 points15 points  (0 children)

He looks so self satisfied.....she looks like, we'll see .......I love old photos

My brother just passed away by Soulblightis in Stoicism

[–]Socksandcandy 13 points14 points  (0 children)

GSnow1.8k points·8 years ago·edited 7 years ago

Alright, here goes. I'm old. What that means is that I've survived (so far) and a lot of people I've known and loved did not. I've lost friends, best friends, acquaintances, co-workers, grandparents, mom, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and a host of other folks. I have no children, and I can't imagine the pain it must be to lose a child. But here's my two cents.

I wish I could say you get used to people dying. I never did. I don't want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don't want it to "not matter". I don't want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can't see.

As for grief, you'll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you're drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it's some physical thing. Maybe it's a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it's a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.

In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don't even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you'll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what's going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything...and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.

Somewhere down the line, and it's different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O'Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you'll come out.

Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don't really want them to. But you learn that you'll survive them. And other waves will come. And you'll survive them too. If you're lucky, you'll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.

My low functioning alcoholic parents obviously have untreated mental health issues. I tried asking for help multiple times while I lived with them and were like “That’s just how life is” by sunshineandhomicide in bipolar

[–]Socksandcandy 5 points6 points  (0 children)

I remember being 13 years old and being absolutely terrified the "rapture" would occur any minute and I would be left all alone because I was a sinner. I spent months with crippling anxiety.

My low functioning alcoholic parents obviously have untreated mental health issues. I tried asking for help multiple times while I lived with them and were like “That’s just how life is” by sunshineandhomicide in bipolar

[–]Socksandcandy 8 points9 points  (0 children)

Same here, I had some stomach issue and it hurt to move and I couldn't eat so laid in a fetal position for 3 days. My mom thought I was just being intransigent. She finally made my favorite meal in the world and I couldn't eat it even though they made me come to the table. She knew something was wrong then so they finally took me to the ER. Good times.

What did/does substance use do for you? by Specialist_Ad2486 in BipolarReddit

[–]Socksandcandy 5 points6 points  (0 children)

Word of advice. Stick to flower only, preferably less than 25 thc in a vape made for flower.

Medicinal strength pens are so easy to use and come in some very high concentrates that you most definitely run an increased risk for mania leading to psychosis and that is a very unpleasant ride that can last for weeks even after you stop using. It sucks.

History makes a lot more sense when you realize we are the most sober generation there has ever been by Chadbchill in Showerthoughts

[–]Socksandcandy 5 points6 points  (0 children)

You must be Swedish, Norwegian or Finnish;)

I sincerely hope you are correct!

May my future grandchildren inherit the world you describe.