Apart from a rather cryptic post on my Twitter a/c that I had finally found a shrink, I've been in retreat for a couple of months. But this time it's not just because of the usual bi-polar incident. It's because I can't write. I can't read either. Ergo I'm not able to research. I'm unable to do anything creative. It's impossible to leave the house before the early afternoon. Time became fluid & has now slipped out the door; and I can't do anything creative to occupy my mind. In other words, I've lost the plot on how to, well, live my life. Now, managing bi-polar since I was a child, I've learnt that every so often there comes a point I'm unable to live a normal life & need a bit of help: this is the point at which one is admitted to hospital. That point arrived about 6 years ago. And since then my meds have not been reviewed or altered; I've not had access to a shrink, and was only able to have 6 counselling sessions. I lea