How I Got Here

Today has been a hard day. I have cried so many times today. Starting at therapy. I haven't been in about six weeks and that is where I unload. So I have been pretty much keeping everything bottled for that long. I think people think therapy is something shameful, taboo even. But that is not the case. You probably know people you would never guess that go to therapy. It is nice to be able to talk to someone with an objective opinion, nothing vested in the relationship. As long as you know the purpose for which you go it will help you. A lot of people think if they go to therapy they are guaranteed a "fix" for whatever their issue is. I don't think this is the case either. Someone else can't "fix" you. I go to dump! It is the one place I can say all the things I need to say without hurting someones feelings.

Then I cried over my stray cat which was slightly injured by my husband's engine. Apparently, Porch Cat decided to crawl under the hood of Beau's truck and when he started the truck he immediately heard a sound that was not quite right and turned off the engine. She is limping a little and her face is a little swollen but other than that the vet says the wounds are superficial. I didn't realize I liked that animal as much as I do.

Danielle and I had a minor argument tonight. She wanted me to color Lauren's hair and I just didn't feel like it. Danielle is sometimes like a five year old when she doesn't get her way. I just don't have the energy to battle her and she insists on a battle every time I don't feel like doing something for her. When things are going her way everything is sunshine and puppies.

I was devastated over the Grey's Anatomy finale. George cannot die. I should never watch shows like that when I am already emotionally charged!

I talked to an old friend last week and Michael expressed interest in how I got to where I am. In other words what happened to lead me to my diagnosis. I explained a little but it really is a long, long story. He said I should mention it in my blog and I think today is as good day as any to do just that. It was a very hard road to get to where I am today and even though I am not happy lately, I am grateful that I am not depressed. It is a horrible state of mind and it is physically taxing. If you take anything away from this I hope it will be that whatever bad you may encounter in life, it will always turn around and that knowledge is power!

I am purposely leaving out details of how these five months affected my relationships with family members. One, I don't like to dwell on it and two it helps me in no way to resent them for their reactions. I will say I had to deal with nonstop comments like, she's a fucking loon, buck up and get back on the horse and maybe she's just lazy.

In January of 2007 I became very depressed and it wasn't over any one particular thing. It was just a sadness and fatigue not prompted by anything happening in my life at the time. I had a good friend that urged me to go see a doctor. I didn't really want to. Partly, because every winter I get depressed and bounce back and partly because my OB/GYN put me on Zoloft when I was pregnant with Avery and it made me even more depressed. At her insistence I went to my Primary Doc where he put me on a low dose of Effexor. It didn't seem to make a difference and after two weeks of crying and sleeping, sleeping and crying he increased the dose. I felt that immediately. My heart raced, I was sweating profusely and all of my senses were heightened. I could hear noises humans should not be able to hear. Clocks ticking, people breathing from five feet away. Also, my anxiety shot through the roof. I felt so angry. I stopped taking it immediately. I now know that people with Bipolar Disorder should not be on an anti-depressant without a mood stabilizer as it can send them into a mania. This is what aggravated my mood disorder to "the surface". I have always had it, it was just never bad enough to disrupt my life.

Still depressed, my friend suggested I go to see the person that she sees. I saw a nurse practitioner in a prestigious Psychiatry Office in the East End. She took my medical and family history and had me answer questions regarding my mood. She diagnosed me with Bipolar Disorder. She sent me home with some samples of Lamictal. I had an allergic reaction. My bottom lip and chin swelled and itched like crazy. So I was back at her office where she signed out more samples. This time Risperdal. At the time, I didn't have the knowledge that I have now about different medications, dosing and such. She gave me the milligrams that you would give a small dog. So needless to say, this didn't work either. She increased this several more times before she took me off this and started me on Seroquel. She warned me to lock it up and don't let anyone know that I had it because it had a street value. I thought it was an odd warning but wouldn't understand it until much later. Mind you, this was all in a three week period. I should have known something was not right with her when each time I seen her her eyes were glazed and her speech was muddled. But I was desperate, desperate to stop crying, desperate to be happy. The next time I seen her she "fired me"! I cannot even now explain how that made me feel. Was I that far gone? She recommended that I go to Ten Broeck. So I did. They did an evaluation and offered group therapy. At this point, I didn't know much but I knew that whatever was wrong with me was chemical. It was not environmental. So I declined that plan. I called multiple psychiatry practices in Louisville and was told each time that they did not accept commercial insurance. They only accepted Medicare and Medicaid. Each practice referred me to Ten Broeck or Our Lady of Peace. Another setback in my road to recovery. Later, I tried to retrieve my medical records from this practice and it took them weeks as the nurse practitioner had "left" and no one knew where she went. At the time, I thought she must have been in treatment herself. Now, I firmly believe that she was taking medications from the office for her own personal use and most likely incarcerated.

Back at home, laying on my couch staring through the TV, two friends visit to urge me to do something else. They had a sincere concern for my well being. At the time, one friend was having issues with her aging father who was suffering with dementia and all that entails so she had a modest understanding of what I was going through. They both sat with me while I called all of the hospitals and sadly, what I was told is that they do have Psychiatry Staff on duty but only for emergencies and I was then asked if I was having suicidal thoughts or have I attempted suicide. Basically, if I would have slit my wrists, parked my car in the garage with the car running or took twenty blister packs of Nytol that someone in the Hospital would be able to assist me. The state of our health care system needs a major overhaul!

During this entire time, I had been seeing my current therapist. I had only seen her a couple of times prior to getting my second diagnosis.

Mid-February Beau took to me to Our Lady of Peace where I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. I participated in an intensive out-patient program. This is where I met my current Psychiatrist. I would go each morning at 9:00am and stay until 2:00pm. My day was filled with group therapy and more group therapy. I seen the doctor about every other day. It was so exhausting, physically, emotionally and mentally. I was put on Prozac. In most cases this is the best thing that you could hope for. Prozac is the crack for the clinically depressed. However, it only seemed to magnify my depression. The only relief that I had was the prescription of Klonipin that I was given for the anxiety. It would put me fast to sleep. But I was afraid to take it because I was well aware this one medication that people become easily addicted to and I didn't need one more issue to handle. I have never cried so much in my whole life over those next five weeks. I am actually tearing up right now thinking about how agonizing it was to not have any control of my feelings. At one point, I considered having tear duct removal, if that even exists. On the upside, I lost fifteen pounds in five weeks without doing one sit-up!

It wasn't until March when I decided that I had finally had enough. I laid out my favorite suit, wrote my husband and kids a letter and swallowed a handful of pills. I know that a lot of people have different views on suicide, whether it be religious or ethical. I always thought it was a very selfish thing myself until it seemed the only way to escape and relieve my family from the burdensome hell that they had been living for the past three months. Obviously, my attempt failed. But it did make the doctor take a second look at bipolar.

Lithium was added to my daily regimen. I didn't like it at all. It made my lips numb and my mind hazy. It did nothing for the depression. I was still crying almost hyperventilating some days. After the doctor stopped the Klonipin, I was no longer sleeping. He gave me a prescription of Ambien, which for me was like speed. So now I am exhausted and wired at the same time. It occurred to me though, if the Ambien was working "backwards" maybe the Prozac was as well. I stopped taking the Prozac.

It is now around the beginning of April, I am still in the IOP and still having to listen to the stories of the other patients in the circle. People that lost their mother, People that had been raped, someone had killed her infant, and a whole slew of alcoholics and drug addicts. There was only two other people at any given time being treated for a mood disorder. Hearing these stories or sharing mine at that time was not helping my situation. By this time, I knew that my problem was chemical and finding the right medication was not a science, it was an art.

Add Seroquel for the second time only this time at a weight appropriate dosage. I can remember the first time I took it at that dose. I felt woozy, silly even. This was the best I had felt even if it was only temporary. It caused me to have crazy mixed up dreams most of which included my dead father. But I finally slept through the night. I slept for fifteen hours straight.

I am sure through all of this you are wondering...where are her kids? Three were in school, the other in daycare. I have a wonderful husband who through all this stuck by me, worked a full-time job, cared for our children, educated himself about my illness and continues to be my rock. This is why I don't give him too much shit for buying that fucking ugly boat!

I attempted to go back to work half days even though I knew I wasn't ready a part of me thought if I get back into my normal routine with "normal" people that somehow I will magically be cured. Naive, yes. I had a meltdown in the bathroom on my fourth day back.

So, I returned to the IOP and begged my doctor to please help me, please fix me! Several more medication changes over the next month and not much change. I was still severely depressed. Add to that agitation. The mania was beginning to show itself as irritability instead of euphoria like most people experience. I could not stop screaming. Now I am screaming and crying all of the time. I had a major altercation with my group therapist. From that moment, I decided that I wanted out. I asked my doctor to discharge me. If he wouldn't then insurance wouldn't pay and they were paying 100%. He put me on a mood stabilizer, finally and asked me to stick with the program. It was called Trileptal and it was very expensive even with my fantastic insurance. But it worked, within one week I was smiling again.


My illness stole nearly six months of my life from me. In hindsight, it seems ridiculous that I had to suffer that long and if somehow I would have been better educated at the time that I may have been able to help my doctors help me. I have had a few medication changes and dosing changes since then but I have been mostly level with the exception of a few months last year when I fell into a severe depression again. I currently take three different types of medication and for the most part they are working well. And I can say with certainty that this too shall pass!

I'm sure that some higher power has a purpose for me to have lived through it.