Last week I wrote about how psych meds can make you feel boiling hot or freezing cold. And, of course, they can. What surprised me is the number of people who wrote in here and on Facebook about how they didn't know that. Not only did they not know it, but it had been happening to them and they didn't know it. They didn't make the connection and in some cases the doctor said it wasn't possible (like mine did). This brings me to something I always say: An effect that occurs after starting a medication is a side effect until proven otherwise.

Everyone who takes psychiatric medication is aware of side effects. Common side effects include things like dry mouth, headache, nausea, fatigue and so on. I've been a cluster of side effects longer than I can remember. (My very favourite is the one where I couldn't open my eyes in the morning and I thought I was blind. Ah, but for another day.) And one of the side effects I have had several times with medications, particularly antipsychotics, is temperature dysregulation. In other words I'm always freaking cold (or way too freaking hot).

It's not my fault. We say it. We think it. We spread it around. It's supposed to assuage our guilt and make others believe we didn't do anything wrong, when maybe we did. But occasionally, someone has a backbone. Not a politician, not a famous person, not a person in a position of power, but your average person that you interact with, they are capable of admitting they did something less-than-perfectly. But never, ever is it a doctor's fault. It doesn't matter what they do, or what they say, it's never their fault. They never make a mistake. They never have a bad day. They never make an error in judgement. They never write the wrong name of a drug down on a script. Never, is it ever, their fault.

One of the myths about mental illness medication is that it is used to control its taker. In other words, by taking the pills prescribed by a psychiatrist you become a pliable, braindead lemming. So, let's take a look at my pliable, braindead, lemming life.

Everyone who has been bipolar, or mentally ill in general, for longer than about a day-and-a-half has experienced failed treatments. We've all had medications that didn't work. Therapy that didn't help. Lifestyle changes that did nothing. And so on, and so forth. In fact, most of us experience months of treatment failure before we find treatment that works for our mental illness. But after years of failure and trying everything you can think of and still being sick, how does one keep going? How do you keep going when mental illness treatment doesn't work?

I talk about bi-polar disorder. As in, two poles - mania/hypomania and depression. The name is extremely descriptive. But as it turns out, there is something in the middle (besides normalcy, whatever that is); it's called a mixed mood episode. Mixed moods possess distinct characteristics of both depression and mania. Mixed moods severely impair judgement and carry a significant risk of suicide.

In January the FDA had a meeting about whether electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) machines should be moved from the most dangerous category of medical devices (Class 3) to the less dangerous Class 2. And the freak outs began. I saw people screaming about how wrong it was and writing petitions and wanting to go to the FDA meeting to voice their opinion. I mostly ignored this issue because, well, I didn't care. I have so many important issues on my plate there just wasn't room for one more. That is until I can across an article in Psychiatric Times by Charles H. Kellner, MD. Kellner explains why the move from Class 3 to Class 2 is important and its possible effect on patients. What if you didn't have access to ECT anymore?

We all have gut reactions to information. It's the reaction when our stomach knots or tumbles, our breathing quickens or stops, our eyes light up or look down. It's the reaction we have before realizing we're having a reaction. And gut reactions around mental illness can be powerful. The problem is, our gut reactions are so often wrong about mental illness and mental illness treatment.

Not long ago a commenter angrily stated he wanted double-blind, placebo-controlled studies for electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) conducted by an uninterested party. Myself, being diplomatic, I didn't say much to that, but really, You've Got to Be Kidding Me. This person clearly has not thought through the ethics involved.

The journey of a thousand miles doesn't begin with a spin class, but everyone knows they should exercise. People should be doing it right now. Me too. We should slowly and calmly step away from the Internet. And most of us even know exercise acts as an antidepressant. Which means if we actually got up and walked around once in a while, we might feel better. But we don't do it. Not the average North American and especially not the average mentally ill North American. How does a person with a mental illness fight that?