An anniversary, of sorts

Today is my one year anniversary of my diagnosis of bipolar disorder. In my mind I've been dreading this day; February 22nd will never be just another day. I spent those first few weeks reeling from the label. My initial posts were angry, full of pain, humorous (at least to me), and a scary look at mental health treatment.

One year ago, the diagnosis was gut-wrenching. It pulled at the very fibers of my soul and left me feeling like a shell of myself. I had no idea how far into the darkness of bipolar I actually was until I landed in the psych ward a week later. No one in my family will talk about that weekend; it's more than they can bear. When I have attempted to talk about it because I needed to get it off my chest, my support people could not or would not let me.

I never could bring myself to blog about the ordeal in any detail. That evening scared the shit out of me. I wanted to die, I felt as if I would crawl out of my skin, I saw things moving rapidly, I could hear the sound of every object around me, I wanted the noise to stop, I wanted to be able to quit moving, I wanted to stop crying, and I did not want medication.

What made me change my mind and swallow that first Seroquel is something I have never told. When I went to use the bathroom*, I found myself trying to pry the screws off the mirror so that I could slit my wrists. So ugly and unspeakable but I have that unsuccessful moment to thank for starting me down the road to trying to find "level".

Since then I have been doing the medication dance: Seroquel, Wellbutrin, Lamictal, Geodon, Seroquel XR, klonopin, Lunesta, and supplements. Some have worked, some have made me feel worse, and some have caused an allergic reaction.

My new psychiatrist has added another anti-psychotic to try to keep me from cycling so rapidly. Naturally, it is a brand new medication that costs a fortune and makes you feel like a complete nut when you read the website tagline of "INVEGA is used to treat schizophrenia"** I would care if only it didn't work so well. My moods are as even as they have been since my first few weeks of level when I initially started the Seroquel.

With so much time spent in denial (them not me), adjusting to meds, and accepting it all it has been a long, hard year. In spite of it all I can say I have a smile as I end this post.

I am no longer bipolar. I have bipolar disorder. There's a hell of a difference between the two.


*It was a private bathroom with a lock on the door and no one monitored who went in or out.
**So are other anti-psychotics but most websites usually break it down in to "for bipolar" or "for schizophrenia"