New Podcast Episode!

Quick post here just to announce that a new episode of The Lithium Writer podcast is up! It’s currently available on Apple Podcasts and Spotify. Episode Two is all about my life with bipolar disorder. (But, I promise, I keep it quick in a ten-minute show!) I truly hope you’ll check it out.

Again, I’m looking for authors, writers, and bloggers to interview on my podcast, so if you’re interested in being featured, feel free to email me at lithiumskylar@yahoo.com, or comment on any of my posts and I’ll reach out to you.

New Podcast!

I’m excited to announce that The Lithium Writer is now a podcast! You can currently listen on Buzzsprout or Spotify. Episode 1 is currently up and available for download and streaming.

The Lithium Writer Podcast, cover art by guavanaboy on Fiverr

This is a huge step for me, as I’ve been wanting to start a podcast for some time, and I’m thrilled to announce its arrival. I hope you’ll stay tuned for the upcoming weekly episodes and bear with me while I figure out the technical setup.

I’m also looking to interview authors and fellow bloggers, so if you’re interested in joining me on my podcast, email me at lithiumskylar@yahoo.com. Or, if you have any topics regarding the craft of writing or mental health that you’d like me to talk about, email me or comment on this post!

UPDATE: You can now find it on Apple Podcasts!

An Ode to Wilson

My house is awfully quiet now. There’s no little nose nudging my leg as I sit on the sofa, wanting to join me. There’s no little creature pacing the kitchen floor when it’s time to eat. I don’t ear the click click click of toenails on the vinyl floor.

This past weekend, I had to put down my dog, Wilson, of thirteen years. He’d been having seizures since November, and he suddenly took a turn for the worse last week. I knew it was time, and I knew he was suffering. But I was still devastated. I cried and bawled until my throat was sore. I’d never had to put down a pet before.

Yes, Wilson was a good dog in some respects, but overall he could be naughty. Before he developed cataracts and went deaf, he liked to steal dirty socks out of the laundry basket. One time, he stole my sister’s underwear while she was visiting and hid them under the spare bed for six months. As a puppy, he ate colored pencils and chewed a hole in the drywall. He liked to chase squirrels and picked fights with pit bulls. (Wilson was a West Highland White Terrier, and around 20 lbs.) He liked to take naps with me, and he enjoyed going for rides in the car and being wrapped up in a hot blanket straight out of the dryer.

Wilson helped me through a lot of tough times. He knew when I was feeling bad and would try to comfort me with snuggles or kisses.

It’s only been a couple of days, but as I write this, I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to go home to an empty house, with no furry little thing to greet me, wagging his tail because he’s happy to see me. I miss his snoring when he was curled up in his kennel. I miss our naps together. I miss when he would raise his front paw for belly rubs. I miss how he instinctively knew when I was on FaceTime and would want attention, right then and there.

If Wilson taught me anything, it was that my heart is capable of infinite love. I loved him more than anything in the world, and he has definitely left an imprint on my heart. I know he’s in puppy heaven, chasing squirrels and picking fights, getting zoomies and running free.

To Wilson: I miss you, and I love you forever.

Vanilla Ice Cream and Rainbow Sprinkles

Before I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder, I was misdiagnosed with Major Depression when I was 16. It was my very first episode, and it lasted for months. I started self-harming and began to have suicidal thoughts.

Let me back up a bit. I was a varsity swimmer. Breaststroke was my specialty. I made the Varsity team by the time I was in eighth grade, and when it wasn’t summer training or the fall swim season, I was on the local YMCA competitive team. Between competitive swimming and playing violin in our school’s chamber orchestra, which involved traveling for musical performances, I stayed busy. I loved what I did. I loved swimming. I loved performing Saint-SaĆ«ns and Bach and Mozart. I was happy.

But something happened the summer before 10th grade. It was early on during summer vacation; summer swim training had just started. My best friend’s older sister was having a graduation party. I was in a rush; I’d just gotten out of swim practice, and I was rushing through the house to get changed so I could head to the party. I had a bad habit of walking over my bed, as it took up most of my small bedroom. Being in flip-flops, I tripped. My foot or sandal got caught in the sheets of the unmade bed, and I went flying across the room and out the door. I broke my right ankle and sprained my left.

I missed the entire summer training season. My cast was taken off at the end of the summer. I swam the fall varsity season, but I was so incredibly behind. My competition times were terrible. No matter how hard I trained, I couldn’t swim as fast as I used to. Frustration and the first signs of depression began to creep in. The season ended, and as the weeks passed, I grew depressed more and more. I gave up on swimming.

Finally, after months of cutting, I was contemplating suicide one night. I had a bowl of vanilla ice cream with rainbow sprinkles and was sitting on the floor in my bedroom. As I was thinking about different ways to kill myself, I took a bite of my dessert. “This ice cream is good,” I thought to myself. Breaking down into tears, I realized that if I died, I’d never be able to enjoy ice cream again. At that moment, I chose to live.

I didn’t have another episode until college, when I had my first manic episode. Sadly, I ended up attempting suicide for the first time at 21. July 25th, 2020 was the one-year anniversary of my second suicide attempt. I celebrated being alive with ice cream and sprinkles. I’ve learned to appreciate all the amazingly wonderful things in life that I get to enjoy because I’m still alive. Live music. Cooking a delicious meal. Watching a favorite movie. I’m happy to be alive.