Tuesday, February 4, 2014

The Dignosis of Bipolar~ part 2 of my story~



           My story continues, its my joy to share my journey with you, because my prayer is that something you read will connect with you on some level. As you read in my first part of my story, my depression started at 13, and it just progress worse and worse as the years wore on. I kept going through the emotions, I kept faking my smile, scared of what those sound me would think if they knew I was falling apart at the seams. Yet you only can hide it for so long, until those around you see through the painted smile and tear stained face.
            I can only imagine how difficult it was for my parents watching their only child suffer in silence, while they did all they could to support me and get me the help I needed. I felt inside as if I was fading fast, I was holding by a thread. Then there was Don, the wonderful guy I started dating at age 16 and yes to this day we can say we are happily married for 15 years. I know it was very hard on him as well, like my parents he felt helpless in making things better, so many times I told him I can’t keep fighting this monster, I would look him in the yes and say, it’s going to win don, it’s going to take me out of this world, whether I want to go or not, I was losing my fight inside of me.
          My first hospitalization was at age 16, I remember it like it was yesterday, don took me to the hospital and he stayed by my side most of the night, while they were observing me. I knew that night at the young tender age of 16 that don was the man I wanted to spend my life with, he showed me how much he loved me that night in the cold ER room, holding my hand, rubbing it ever so gently, reassuring me, he wasn’t going to leave my side.
           When Don and I got married, it just got worse; it wasn’t until the year we got married at age 19, that I was diagnosed with my Bipolar. It was also that year that things took a drastic turn for the worse, within the first 9 months of our marriage I was in the psych ward 7 times. It was as if we were living in the delicate balance of the disease, tipping from severe depression to manic highs. I was eventually diagnosed as  being a rapid cycler, my moods would change within   days or even hours, I never knew how I would feel and neither did  my loving  husband,  when he left for work, he never knew what he would come home to.
           Some of those were voluntary, but most were because I was a danger to myself and needed to be stabilized. Never in a million years prior to my first one at age 16, did I think I would be locked away in a psychiatric hospital, never mind  8 more times. I would be lying if I told you I wasn’t scared all those times, to be honest I was more scared of myself and what I was capable of doing to myself than being hospitalized or even  the bipolar itself.
          Some of those times were because I was suicidal, other times just to stabilize my meds. The most help I got, even though the doctors were there to help me was from other fellow patients, sharing their stories and being there to talk to. I loved the groups, and all I got out of them, yes there were times I was resistant to the help, but other times as the time went on I embraced it all and what I could get out from it. Was tough being locked away, in a place that was not my own, where the doors locked behind you and you could not leave. It was important though to get the help.
          It was a long, tiresome journey, it was trial and error or trying to get stabilized and find the right meds. I look back and reflect on how far I’ve come, I was up to 24 pills a day for many years, and now im on 2, been STABLE for years. I’m thankful im alive, because with all the suicide attempts I made, more than I can count, GOD was watching out for me. When someone deals with mental illness like bipolar and they become suicidal, they can’t even think clearly, they can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel or any Hope. You have people walk out of your life because they don’t understand or don’t want to understand anymore and that hurts more than anything.
      It strained our marriage at times, it wore on dons strength and if it wasn’t for His faith in God and his parents and my parents and friends support, we never would of gotten through those rocky years. We did though, we came out and we came out much stronger than ever before.
      

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