Grandma's advice is very good. I've had to give up alcohol, because it precipitates depression, and also losing inhibitions is very bad for us. I've woken up mornings, before I stopped drinking, to discover that I've cut myself all over my arms... not deep, but shallow, and all over. I've cut my belly and dug holes into my breasts. So, I know I can't drink. A few times over the years (maybe four or five) I've taken marijuana, and it completely effed me up. Psychotic thoughts and anxiety ready to spin on a dime towards violence.

The meds don't completely get rid of some of the problems, but they give you the necessary distance to recognise them, and this makes it possible to manage things which before were unmanageable. For example, I got very bad since Friday, and at one point was sure I was headed to the hospital. But I've managed, with the meds help, to slowly turn it around, and some friends are going to get me out of the house today, for the first time since Friday. Before the meds I wouldn't have been able to ask my friends for help. In fact, before the meds I'd never have trusted anyone enough to make friends. So, just trust that they will help, and be prepared to work at it. Things can get better.