Mill P Writes

  Let’s cut straight to the chase: Alcohol is not your friend. Sure, it might seem like a charming companion at the start—the life of the party, the muse behind some of your wittiest one-liners, and the enabler of your impromptu karaoke sessions. But as a newly released federal report reveals, even a single drink a day comes with strings attached, ones you’d rather not untangle. According to STAT’s analysis of the report, “A single daily alcoholic drink raises the risk of numerous health issues, including several cancers and cardiovascular conditions.” That’s right, folks—the notion of a “safe” amount of alcohol has been put on the chopping block. While you may enjoy a glass of red wine with dinner, confidently clinking glasses with the justification of heart health, science is now playing the ultimate buzzkill: “Even low levels of consumption can lead to adverse health outcomes,” the report emphasizes. As someone who no longer drinks, these findings don’t surprise me. Alcohol a...

There’s a storm brewing in the mental health world, and it’s one we can no longer ignore. An NBC News article recently highlighted research suggesting that high doses of ADHD medications might be linked to an increased risk of psychosis. Let me say that again— psychosis , a state where reality unravels at the seams, leaving the individual adrift in a world that’s both heart-breaking and terrifying. I’ve seen drug-induced psychosis firsthand. It’s like watching someone trapped in a house of mirrors, each reflection more distorted than the last. Their reality becomes a cacophony of fear, confusion, and disconnection, and all you can do is stand on the shore, powerless, as they’re pulled further out to sea. It’s a sight that stays with you, a haunting reminder of how fragile the mind can be. The article states, “Psychosis is a rare but well-documented potential side effect of stimulant medications, which are commonly prescribed for ADHD.” It’s crucial to understand that this isn’t a con...

The human brain is a marvel—a three-pound blob of squishy brilliance capable of composing symphonies, solving equations, and remembering every embarrassing thing you've ever done at 3 a.m. But every now and then, this biological supercomputer throws a glitch so bizarre, it makes you wonder if the software was written by Salvador Dalí during one of his weirder phases. That’s where rare psychological syndromes come in, the subject of a fascinating article from Psi Chi titled “Rare Psychological Syndromes, Side Effects, and Disorders.” If you haven’t read it yet, grab a coffee and prepare to have your mind both boggled and slightly terrified. Let’s start with Stendhal Syndrome. Imagine walking through the Louvre, marveling at the Mona Lisa’s enigmatic smile, when suddenly your heart starts racing, your vision blurs, and you’re convinced you’re about to pass out. This isn’t just bad museum air-conditioning; it’s Stendhal Syndrome, a condition where an overload of art’s beauty essentia...

  Buy Cocaine Cola  The first time I held a composition notebook in my hands at rehab, I felt like a soldier clutching a sword in a battle I wasn’t sure I could win. Recovery—from alcoholism, from myself—was not the hero’s journey I had romanticized in my more delusional moments. It was more like crawling through a swamp with a broken compass. And yet, somehow, amid the sweat-soaked nightmares and the relentless peeling back of layers I had spent years constructing, I found the spark to create. Let me start at the beginning—or rather, one of the beginnings. You see, alcoholism has a funny way of offering you new beginnings all the time, but they’re never the kind you want. I had just hit one of those new beginnings, a rock bottom that made me look at myself and think, “This can’t be it. This cannot be how the story ends.” The days leading up to rehab are a blur, like a badly edited montage of shame, regret, and staggering attempts at normalcy. But once I walked through those ...

  Winter has a peculiar way of sneaking into our souls. The days shorten, the sun seems like it’s on a permanent lunch break, and everything feels... heavy. For a long time, I laughed at Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). I dismissed it as a hyped-up excuse for people who just couldn’t handle a little frost. But then, the penny dropped. Or rather, the glass clinked. I noticed a peculiar pattern in my life, like a mysterious algorithm dictating my habits. My drinking—once a year-round indulgence—seemed to spike when the leaves turned to amber and gold and plummeted as spring flowers began to bloom. It wasn’t random; it was a symphony of seasons, and winter was the conductor of my chaos. This realization became a monumental milestone in my journey to sobriety, an epiphany wrapped in a cold December wind. Seasonal Affective Disorder isn’t just a catchy acronym; it’s a bona fide villain in the mental health world. As detailed in this KSL article , SAD is far more than just the winter...

  Ladies and gentlemen, gather around! Dust off your reading glasses, adjust your screen brightness, and prepare your eyeballs for the spectacle that is… the return of this blog. That’s right—like a phoenix rising from the ashes, or more accurately, like a New York Giants fan rising from the couch after yet another soul-crushing season, this blog is back and ready for action. What’s in store, you ask? Oh, just the musings of a mind that runs like a caffeinated squirrel on a hamster wheel. I’m talking news about my books, philosophical ponderings on the meaning of life (or at least on why my coffee never tastes as good as it smells), and short stories straight from the depths of my imagination. And trust me, those depths are murky—think Loch Ness, but instead of Nessie, it’s random characters and weird plotlines swimming around, waiting to be unleashed. I’ve committed to writing at least 2,000 words a day, which means I’ve got plenty of material to share. Some of it’s gold, some o...