About
Liz Spikol was born in Philadelphia sometime in the 20th century. She started writing about her experience as a person with mental illness in 1999, while employed at Philadelphia Weekly as the paper’s managing editor. Aside from serving as that paper’s web editor, music editor, staff writer, senior editor, executive editor and a host of other random roles that she couldn’t make up her mind about, she has also worked as a Spanish teacher, as a Certified Peer Specialist during Philly’s system-wide transformation and as a communications specialist for a prison reform organization. Currently, she works at the Mental Health Association of Southeastern Pennsylvania and writes book reviews for PW. This blog — named one of the Top 10 Bipolar Blogs of 2007 and 2008 by PsychCentral — is about medications, schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, OCD, PTSD, SAD (and many other acronyms), mad pride, Big Pharma, celebrities, hospitals, stigma and the recovery movement. And other stuff.
Pretty accurate Liz. I liked it. As they say “been there, done that, got the T shirt.”
That definitely captured the madness of anxiety. Almost caused an attack.
I’m a lifelong anxiety disorder sufferer, and there is nothing in that song I don’t recongize.
Still, I’m worried the majority of people who see it will dismiss it as “emo.” That genre is the contemporary vessel for commoditizing depression (”Hamlet” and “Werther” were the brand of choice in their respective centuries), and it would be distressing to see a genuine effort by someone to work out their condition artistically written off as another angsty bourgeois teen.
wow, that was really well done, but stressful for me to watch. it’s exactly like my worst attacks.
“What if I have to move in back with my parents?”. Shit, my parents are dead, horrors(?) every night, it keeps coming back, my life is shiite, blah, blah, blah….. and I thought that was an anxiety attack. Panic attacks are close to suicide, non? To stop the foiking pain and despair.
Have a nice day.
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