Diagnosed With Bipolar-2 in 28 Minutes. Was He Right?

I spent over a decade on an ambulance patching people up—physically, anyway. But mentally? I knew I was overdue for my own check-in.

After leaving EMS, I stumbled into daily use of delta-8. Legal weed. Seemed harmless. Seemed like control. I told myself It was like diet-weed, more functional. I told myself it made me more myself.

But a few months ago, I woke up one morning and thought:

“I’m too old to keep wandering through life dazed like this”

So I tried to quit.

Then I tried again. And again. Shit.

Every time I stopped, anxiety would shoot through me— and the only thing that dulled it was more delta-8. The cycle was obvious. The fix was ironic.

I wasn’t prepared for what happened next.

The Cart That Broke Me

I walk into my usual smoke shop. The guy behind the counter lights up — “Got a new cart,” he says. “It’s stronger. THC-P.” —it allegedly binds like 33 times tighter or something (was high for 2 days)

Perfect, I think. Stronger = better.

I take it home. Take a few hits. Few more.

And then everything shifts.

This wasn’t a high. This was toxic. I felt sick. Weak. Disoriented. I threw up all night. The next morning, a high-pitched buzzing was screaming in my ear — tinnitus which lasted nearly two weeks. Waking up to cicadas in my years made me nervous, I thought, am I going to have to hear this for the rest of my life?!

That was my wake-up call.

When You Know You Know

I told my wife I was finished — with weed, with porn, with soda, laziness; with all of it. The vices. The patterns. I am not letting the past dictate my future. I’m not “letting the monkey” drive as my friend Evan might say.

I prayed every day—a lot. I journaled. I meditated. And I committed to telling the truth in public, because honestly? I don’t trust myself to stay accountable in private anymore.

This channel, this blog — it’s part of my survival plan. Not just content. This is my mirror. I’m giving ChatGPT all my personal information to answer this burning question I have. Could AI make me stable and more? Could I use AI to make my life better than I ever imagined?

The 28-Minute Diagnosis

It took six weeks to land an appointment with a psychiatrist. I got lucky — someone canceled, so I got in at three weeks.

I was nervous. Hopeful. I wanted to be heard.

I walk in calm, respectful. I tell him I should’ve done therapy 20 years ago. I start sharing. My voice picks up. Hands moving. Words spilling out. Not because I’m “manic” — but because I’ve been holding this in for too damn long.

Twenty-eight minutes in, he says:

“Man, all I can do is give you a pill.”

He tells me he’s just the prescriber. The therapist does the talking. Oh — and they’re booked for three months.

He suggests Abilify.

I ask, “Do you think I’m bipolar?”

He says, “You seem hypomanic.”

And just like that, 28 minutes becomes a label.

Is he wrong? I don’t know. Maybe I am bipolar. But I’ve never had mania in 35 years — until this weird THC-P experience. That’s what changed things. If i had to guess I would say there’s a small chance I have Bi-Polar 2. I was surprised he didn’t want to see what happens as the THC-P wears off.

So I push back. I say:

“I’m coming off a legal substance we barely understand. If I take meds now, how will we know what actually helped?”

He pauses.

He nods.

He agrees.

Which is terrifying — because I basically just diagnosed and treated myself.

He’s not a bad guy. Just burnt out. I saw it immediately. After 12 years in emergency services, I recognize emotional triage when I see it. He was drowning too.

We shook hands. He wished me luck. I see him again in about 8 weeks. Should be interesting.

Where This Story Goes Now

I meet with a therapist tomorrow — he didn’t know i had already scheduled one for day after.

And I start my fitness and healing journey very soon. Cold turkey. Full send. Documented for your pleasure.

This isn’t a challenge. It’s an unraveling. I’m done performing. I’m going to show what real healing looks like — not the polished version. The hard one. The icky raw carrots.

And AI? It’s been a lifeline. Not in some tech-bro, productivity-hack way — but in the helped-me-save-my-mind kind of way. I’ll be showing you how I use it in every part of my rebuild. AI has helped give me the introspection to even seek therapy.

The Moment That Hit Me

Before I left, I told the psychiatrist about this channel — about why I started it.

And for the first time in the appointment, his face lit up.

He said:

“We’ve got a 3-month waitlist. If you can help people this way… do it.”

So I am.

This is real. And if you’ve ever felt like you’re spiraling, misdiagnosed, misunderstood — or just tired of being numbed instead of healed — then this isn’t just my story.

It’s time to heal folks…Join me if you’d like!

Follow along. Comment. Message me.