My oldest daughter, now 15, was finally "officially" diagnosed and medicinally treated as Bipolar back in August. Yes, I realize it has been months before posting the announcement. I just got sidetracked with my own pharmasudical roller coster. I think her sickness started years ago. When she was 5, she convinced her kindergarten teacher that she had a baby brother. The teacher was a bit dumbfounded when I told her there was no baby brother. Apparently, my child was keeping her class up to date about 'Toby'; his first words, he got sick, mom was sick so she helped dad take care of the baby. And her timeline was accurate. It was obvious Toby existed, or how else could she make daily reports so real?
When she was 8, she had a leprechaun who dressed in red instead of green. He was an evil dude she was always fighting with. And with such an imaginative child, I thought it was another fake friend. The leprechaun stayed for quite a while. Then the monkeys moved in by the age of 10. I only heard about them when she was hyper and laughing. I was unaware of how real these were until she started to cry because a monkey was hitting her real friend in the head. I watched the whole thing unfold. She was hyper, and suddenly sobbing. I took her away from the party to calm her down. I didn't know what to say. Two days after that, she was scared to the bone because her monkeys blew up a building and the debris was coming right at her. I immediately sought a psych. Not an easy thing to find when only three doctors are available to children.
Insurance gave us the run around a million miles. She was evaluated by one doc, who labled her bipolar, and he sent us on our way to find a different doctor. Waiting months to see a doctor, only to find out they are no longer with our insurance. She's been on seroquel for a few months. It is mainly to help her sleep. (Her lack of sleep for months on end is currently taken care of.) And she'll be on abilify to calm her down a bit.
It didn't hit home until the monkeys blew up a building, and scared her to death. And I am just beginning to understand how long these invisibles have been hanging around. I've been trying to straighten out my crazy, and I failed to see her friends. her childhood invisible friends, and I can't make it up to her- that I let her grow up thinking this was only slightly abnormal.
She has talk therapy because the seroquel made her monkeys and the other things go away. and now she's lonely. I've failed.
You haven't failed! So stop that negativity right where it is. Draw a line in the sand and say, "Stop!" And for us with bipolar, we have to keep drawing that line and saying "Stop!" over and over until we can win and move on. Second, don't beat yourself up so much. Please! I know it's easy to do because I do it everyday, but you have to believe that this is not your fault. Remember, we have enough to deal with having mental disorders ourselves. 'Should've, could've, would'ves" you know can't help with this situation.
And with your daughter, you only fail when you give up. I know that's sounds trite and cliche, but it is true. Insurance sucks! I'm paying out of pocket for my psychiatrist right now and it's racking up debt. But, please hang in there. Don't stop trying. There are children psychologists, though I'm not sure about psychiatrists. And I'm not trying to pry, but is your husband involved in the process. He can be a huge help especially when you're struggling yourself with not just one, but two disorders-yours and your daughter's. I'm not an expert on this stuff, but if possible, urge him (if you can) to help you in this process of finding the right help for your daughter. Hang in there, and I'm praying for you.
Thank you for your kind words, and I apologize for my belated response. I think I haven't mentioned that my husband is in worse shape than I am. He had a surgery that went wrong. He ended up with a pain doctor who tried all these different medications. One of the medications was for elderly people with dementia. That medication caused permanent hallucinations and he is physically disabled from the surgery. I do the driving and the doctors and school stuff. He can't do much, but he's really good at annoying me some days. For instance, he's trying to tell me I lost a hundred pounds. I'm happy that I lost twenty pounds this summer. But he's insistant that he's right. Life is just easier if I go along with it. And sometimes that's a hard thing for me to do. But again, thank you.