Unconventional Diagnosis & Treatment

I haven't really ever given much detail as to how I was diagnosed and my current treatment for bipolar. Since people have asked a few times in the comments, I thought it would be easier to make a post and then if any future people ask I would have a post to direct them towards instead of having to constantly repeat myself. This post will be a bit long but that can't really be helped.

I was raised in a very abusive home. My father was an alcoholic who raped me and beat my mother. He psychologically tortured the both of us. I have very few memories of my childhood, but one memory that is very clear to me is from when I was about 6 or 7 years old. I don't remember what led to this event and I don't remember how it ended, but I very clearly remember standing in the door of my family home. My father stood behind me drinking a beer. His hand squeezing my shoulder. Even though he said not one single word, I knew exactly what my part was. My mother was standing in the yard beside the car. She wanted to leave but I refused. I remember thinking how deseparately I wanted nothing more than for her to come and pick me up from my spot and carry me away, but she didn't. She just stood there screaming at me to get in the car, but my feet wouldn't move. All I could do was stand there and cry and say "No, Mama, please don't go". She didn't go.

When I was 8, she had a nervous breakdown and was hospitalized. I ended up running away from home and going to live with my grandparents. My family's way of dealing with what happened to me was to pretend it didn't. They ignored it. Didn't talk about it so I repressed ALOT. I guess I should also tell you that my father attempted to murder me on numerous occasions after the divorce. He blamed me for the divorce and felt if I wasn't "in the picture" then he and my mother could live happily ever after. He tried shooting me, strangling me, running our car off the road on several occasions, beating me. It didn't help that at times my mother also told me that I was the reason her life was messed up. Needless to say I bottled everything up inside until it imploded.

Then when I was 13, I attempted suicide for the first time. I was hospitalized and my therapist thought my mental state was too fragile to pursue legal action. Instead she thought it best that I have once a week therapy sessions with my father so the two of us could "work things out". I was in the hospital for six weeks and once a week we had "family therapy" to "work things out". I don't remember the sessions. I have no idea what was or wasn't said. All I remember is staring at the carpet on the floor. I am not certain I ever spoke during these sessions. This was when I was officially diagnosed as "manic depressive". This is what bipolar use to be called until it was renamed to remove some of the stigma associated with the label.

Afterwards, I saw a therapist in my hometown. She was NOT licensed to work with children. She decided it best that I undergo hypnosis. That somehow reliving my past trauma under hypnosis would be less traumatic than actual therapy sessions. I don't remember much from these sessions either.

In the hospital I was given amitriptyline and trazadone. When I left I was put on prozac and trazadone. I took these for about a month and then I felt "better" and stopped. I didn't really have much adult supervision. Therefore no one to actually make me take my meds. My insurance only paid for 6 therapy sessions which is why I believe no one ever noticed how deeply troubled I was.

When I was 16, I attempted suicide again. I was again hospitalized. This time however the abuse was reported. My previous doctors all lost their licenses to practice medicine in my homestate due to their failure to report child abuse and their inappropriate treatment of my case. I was put on lithium and two more drugs although I don't remember exactly what they were. When I left the hospital, I took a variety of things. I should say I was prescribed a variety of things. I saw two different doctors and each prescribed meds. Zoloft, paxil, lithium, trazadone, ambien. Again I had no adult supervision so I didn't really take the meds.

My father bought his freedom. I remember very little of the trial. I testified. My social worker said I looked like I was stoned out of my mind sitting on the witness stand. That I stared off into space. I slurred my words and spoke very slowly in almost a whisper. That I never blinked. My pupils were dilated so much that you couldn't see the iris in my eye. I have no idea what the lawyer asked me. The only thing I remember of that day is standing on the courthouse steps and watching my father shake the prosecuting attorney's hand and laughing. I remember hearing him tell the DA that his "campaing fund check" was in the mail. This is how justice is bought in my hometown.

Then I got married at 17 and moved away. I believed this would solve my problems. I had absolutely no real understanding of my mental issues. Needless to say that marriage ended. Badly. During my marriage I attempted to see a therapist on two different occasions but due to insurance or the lack of, I only saw them a couple times and it was really just a waste of time.

Then when in 2003 my grandmother died. She had been my rock through my whole life. When she died, I slowly began to unravel. For about a year I actually hid it pretty well. I was functioning at work, but at home I was a mess. I would cut myself, not sleep for days. Then in 2004, I had a nervous breakdown. The ER psyche doc wanted to hospitalize me but I somehow managed to convince him not to. I wasn't "crazy". I didn't need to be locked up. We agreed I would see a therapist twice a week. Which I did. That was when I heard the word "bipolar" and found out a little bit about my mental issues. I was put on seroquel and another med that I can't remember the name. I really thought that this time I was going to get better and then life threw me a curve ball and I did what I always do. I ran away.

I moved to another state and had no insurance there so no meds no therapy. Then I started having delusions. That is when my psychotic break began. End of 2004 beginning of 2005. I would spend the next 3 years doing some extremely self destructive behavior. Believing I was a divine chosen being that had supernatural powers. Then somehow I started coming out of the psychosis. Attempted to straighten my life out but my perception was so skewed that I ended up being a "kept" woman for a married man. He lived in one city and worked in another. 3 days a week he lived in the city he worked and kept an apartment there. I lived in the apartment.

I prayed daily for death. I would have given anything to have been able to kill myself, but suicide is not an option in my beliefs and that is really the only reason I never attempted suicide. If it were not for my faith, then I would be dead now. There is no doubt in my mind.

In 2007, I met Jigger. We married in January 2008. For the first time in my life I was safe. I had a home. Even though for the first year I fought him like hell because I was so afraid to trust in his love and in this life. I was terrified of losing it that I was too afraid to grab it. After a year of trying to make Jigger divorce me, something in me clicked and I began researching bipolar online. I started noticing my triggers. Finding discussion forums, support groups, trying to understand why I do what I do.

Where I live it is not possible for me to get meds and/or treatment by a therapist. I realize the absurdity of that statement and how unbelievable it sounds, but know that it is the absolute truth. That is why I do my best to manage my illness as much as possible. Being in the environment I am definitely helps.

Even though at the moment I am "stable" I do not believe you can successfully treat bipolar without meds and therapy. I do not recommend anyone to attempt to treat themselves. If I had a choice, I would choose meds, but at the moment, I have to work with what I have available to me which isn't a whole lot.

In 2004 my diagnosis was bipolar type 1 rapid cycling, PTSD, and depersonalization disorder. So hopefully that answers the questions of my diagnosis and treatment. Although I am always open to questions and will do my best to answer them. However I do blog anonymously and there are some things I will not disclose in order to maintain that anonymity.

I blog in order to have a journal that documents my moods and triggers. Writing is a form of therapy for me. It always has been. It helps me to get the demons out of my head.