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I knew, at age 8 that something was not quite right.
I was sad, quiet, alone in my head, scared of everything, and cried a lot.
I had a very traumatic childhood prior to age 8, at one point I didn't speak for nearly 2 years due to 1 traumatic event... and then had a few more events after age 8
I first asked for help when I was 10 from the school counselor & continued until I graduated High School
I first went to an actual child psychiatrist at age 12ish which started the long line from there.... along with school counselors and assorted others, off and on, until age 40.
I was diagnosed with Bipolar II Mixed at age 40
Diagnosed Bipolar I Mixed at age 40.5 and still holding... I'm now 43.
So.... from 8-10 : that's 2 years
then from 10 - 40 : that's 30 years of mis-diagnosis and incorrect med treatment
then from 40 - 43 currently : that's 3 years with Bipolar diagnosis & little med treatment due to hypersensitivity and allergies
so... 35 odd years there abouts
now, I'm going to cry cause I'm reminded I've been at this battle for 35 years. 35 very long and often painful and exhaustive years. I grew up and have grown up, with a constant mind/mental battle. 
I always knew I was different. Wether it was from being raised in a VERY strick household. Or perhaps from the mental illness that ran on my mom's side of the family. I can look back and see that my Aunt Betty was Bipolar1 as well as my Uncle Norman....but this is my own diagnosis. I am pretty sure I am correct since my behavior is and was the same. They have passed for over 25 years, but these behaviors are hard to forget. They weren't treated for their disorder, but then again no one spoke of these things way back in the day.
I always kept to myself in grade school, all the way to graduation. I just didn't fit in, and no one wanted to be seen hanging around with the weird girl. I must have lived in my bedroom my whole life. This wasn't always easy seeing as I grew up in a 2 bedroom house with 3 brothers older than me. My oldest brother would terriorize me at night...always planting scarey thoughts in my head. Jumping out at me at night when I was coming back from the bathroom. My two younger brothers were mentally retarded...and I wished that I was like them, because my mom gave them so much attention.
From a early age, my mom would always tell me that I was sick...that I need to see a doctor. What the hell was that all about?? If she thought something was wrong with me....why didn't she do something about it. I was born in 1956, so maybe there wasn't anything to be done...I don't know. It's just that she continued to say these things over and over for years....Do yo remember the movie "The Snake Pit"? Every time it came on she would make me watch it. Talk about damaging a childs brain.
It took until 1995 to find out that I had Bipolar 1 with personality tendecies (sp) along with schizo tendenices, along with rapid cycling...sometimes many in one day. Before this, I was being treated for servere depression for 10 years. Talk about hypomania...deep depression!
I can't tell you how many times in the past I put my fists through windows, cut myself, attemped sucide, pulled my hair out by the roots (it's a wonder I have thick hair still). It's amazing that it took until the mid 90's for doctors to listen to me...really LISTEN. It was like I was an inconvience to everyone all my life. But once I had my diagnosis and lithium everything started to change. I had something to work with, and so did my husband...and this is when my life started for the better.
It breaks my heart hearing that so many don't respond to meds. That there are so many people to proud to take the meds, or don't believe they need meds. I don't wish this disorder on anyone.....well maybe a few....just kidding!
The resources are out there now for the mental illness's that plague so many. I am one who uses them head one. No more do I allow someone to tell me I am sick and need a doctor. I am no longer the weird girl that no one wants to be around. I no longer live in my bedroom, whos only friends are her stuff animals. I still have my favorite stuff doll...poor thing spends her life in a bag now because she would fall apart otherwise. I take her out of the closet from time to time when the world starts closing in on me, she still brings me comfort. My husband will see me struggling, and he will bring her to me...god bless him!
I've just recently had to start taking something for anxiety....it frightens me to be around alot of people...even though I've known them for years...and I no longer can drive more than a few miles without having panic attacks. I've added Buspar to my life now...forunately I only take it when needed. I am lucky that my doctor listens to me, and allows me to take a active part in my disorders.....which is the only way it should be. After all, aren't we the experts on ourselves?
What a hard life you've had!!! I thought I had it bad, and I did, but nowhere near the suffering you endured. You must be such a remarkable person...sensitive and thoughtful. I also admire you because you're a survivor!
My dad used to terrorize me too, as your brothers did you, and he'd beat me when he was helping me with my homework, always yelling at me that I was stupid and ugly. It took me years to know I had my own mind, because Dad was always telling me what to do. To this day, he criticizes me. I grew into a beautiful,smart young woman, and he never once said so. As a kid, I needed psych help because I was so depressed, and my mother's doctor offered to treat me practically for free, but Dad wouldn't allow it. I was also born in 1956, and kids didn't really get the help they do now. Growing up, I always felt like I was different, and it's been an uphill struggle every day. Thank God I've had good doctors for the past 10 years. God bless you for not giving up the fight. It's so wonderful to feel healthly again, isn't it? By the way, I didn't drive until I was in my 30's and was scared to death, and had social anxiety, too, but Effexor helped with the fear of social settings, and I'm doing pretty well now. I'm afraid to drive when I think I'm getting lost, and I don't change lanes very well. I had my license for a year, and was too afraid to drive. Thanks for sharing!
I had panic attacks back when I was 7. they continued to follow me through grade school, high school, and then college. Although the symptoms became too much in college and i dropped out in my 2nd year. I did alot of self medicating with heroin. No one seemed to know what I suffered from until I slit both my wrists in a bath and laid there until I nearly died. My Mother found me and as of the last 5 months I have found a refuge with keeping a journal here, i get help from the people who are like me and makes me feel so not alone. I see a therapist and take 3 meds to keep my symptoms at bay. If anyone cares to read my journal it's here at;
in 1997, i started to not be able to live right. i couldn't do certain things on certain days. on other days i got really productive. however, everyone who was around me kept telling me i was having schizopjrenia. when i went to the dr.'s, in 2000, the dr.'s stated i have bipolar. they were and still are sceptable about my diagnosis. i have a gripe of being schiz..! i have seen many other dr.'s and they all say i have bipolar. i don't now how to be treated rightly. i am being paatrionized and being flooded with niceness and i don't like it. no one believes a word a say because i don't believe them/society. so now that i have had to stop lithium because of kidney desease, i had a hard time with mania and got no support while doing so. all anyone does is yell and scream at me because i am behaving dif. and according to them w/an attitude. i am just my normal bipolar self...and they don't help by yelling and screaming and even when i confess that i am suicidal, they don't beleive me they just think i am trying to get my way, so they keep yelling and screaming at me for that!! i am still on a mood stablizer; lamictal. thank god for that!! i am also taking abilify, haldol, and seroquel. i am trying to get off the seroquel because of my menstral cycle. oh, yeah. i am sick of family and society crying when they think me and the dr.'s are wrong...and they think i am delusional. the dr.'s know what they are saying and doing. and they are right!!
thank you,
darkangel
aka sherri bercier
I grew up in a disfunctional family; a father who was depressed (and quite likely bipolar) self medicated alcoholic and a mother who enabled and spent most of her energy coping with my father; the 4 kids came a distant second. My dad was violent and moody; he loved to torture us, would beat us when we annoyed him or were *bad* (once I passed out from a prolonged spanking when I was 6 or 7). He also forced me to take baths when him which when I was little wasn't so bad but as I matured became another form of torture. I finally begged my mom to make him stop the touching, hitting and torture when I was 12. He left for over a day to punish her, but he never touched me or my siblings again; just ramped up the mental abuse. Being raised in that sort of environment has had long lasting effects on all us kids; especially to our self esteme. For a very long time, I thought my anger and outbursts were from this unhealthy childhood (which I am sure some is). I would go into rages and destroy things, then go into deep depressions and think about suicide. When I was a teenager, I would shut my self away in my room. I didn't have a lot of friends because we moved a lot (military) and when we retired I was an outsider at the highschool as a senior among kids that had all grown up together. I got married young and struggled for a long time; didn't even own a dog for 20 years because of my rages. I got more control over the rages as I aged and my family doc about 10 years ago put me on an antidepressant as I was obviously having issues with that. She never suggested I see a mental health professional for it, though and this spring the med quit working for me. After a depression this fall and marital problems that put me on the brink of suicide I finally decided to see a psychiatrist and was shocked to find out that I was bipolar2. It was scary, depressing and a relief to know why I was not in control so many times. I wish someone had encouraged me or taken me earlier. And I truly wish my father had sought help. He is still alive and still mean as a junk yard dog and still acting like an emotional abuser. For my own peace of mind, I wrote him out of my life about 4 years ago. so now I am trying to come to terms with this new info and my husband is relieved as well and trying very hard to be nice and keep me on an even keel.
Years ago, I suspected I was bipolar. I had very severe, depressive experiences.
However, there were many times when I was estatic.
I went to doctors and told them I thought I was bipolar. Their typical answer was no your not, your too up for that. Yaaa! I was in a manic mood most of the time I was around people; but in the ground when I wasn't.
Anyhow, it ws only when I got old and ugly, that a doctor finally said, ya man, she's depressed, and she's bipolar. She must be, she sure looks bad to me. See how fast she talks.
When I was young, beautiful and well-groomed, I looked like a female high-powered executive. On top of the world to the doctors who saw me. They dismissed my claims of depression, as rediculousness. What does she have to be depressed about. Now that I'm old, ugly, unfashionable, I'm believable. She sure does have a lot to be depressed about.
Funny isn't it. Actually, No. I could have been getting help all those years, instead of raving like a maniac because I needed help. Don't judge a book by its cover doctors. All that glistens is not well.
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