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| Fri, 07-14-2006 - 8:21am |
This is probably going to be a long post... sorry in advance.
I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder when I was about 15 years old. I am now 24. I spent years in therapy and on mood stabilizers (Lithibid, Depakote) and also took Zoloft at one point too. I stayed on those medications until I was about 19, when I became convinced that they were no longer necessary. (Plus, the side effects were so terrible. I gained 20lbs, had stomach aches constantly, incessant trembling...) I told myself, and others at the time said it too, that it was all just a matter of willpower and that if I wanted to get better, I could do it on my own by hard work. I spent the next two years struggling with erratic behavior and spending (got myself into quite a bit of debt). I can't recall what prompted me to seek professional help again, but I did and my doctor (just a general practicioner, not a psychiatrist) put me on Zyprexa. I stayed on Zyprexa for a few months, but freaked out when I started gaining weight again. The weight gaining threw me into more depression, so my doctor put me on wellbutrin. I've been on Wellbutrin for about 3 years now. The Wellbutrin definitely helps, although I'm still so incredibly erratic. My disorder is progressively getting worse. I go through periods of being completely fine (or at least I think I am fine) and then either mania or depression hits and I can't control it at all. I try so hard. The depression hits me very hard and often I find myself wanting to die, although I tell myself I'd never do that... but sometimes I just don't trust myself. I've been serverely depressed for over a year now, but there are short periods when I feel fantastic.
Recently I had a bout of SOMETHING... I don't know what happened and I am so incredibly ashamed. My boyfriend currently lives in another state. I planned to go see him for about a week in Florida. We decided to go to Disney World for a day. Somehow I decided that I could afford an entire vacation instead, and spent $1500.00. It was like a split second decision. It popped into my head and I booked it about 10 minutes later. (This happened about a week before I was supposed to leave for FL) I was feeling wonderful and excited about my trip. I took my pills religiously all week. When I got to Florida, I stopped taking my pills because we went out drinking. (I am afraid to mix alcohol with the wellbutrin). I was fine for two days. On the third day into the trip, we went out drinking with some of his friends. I'll admit that I became intoxicated, but not to the point of blacking out or anything. We were at a bar in Disney and I got tired and said that I wanted to go back to our hotel. I told my BF to stay with his friends and have a good time. I hopped on a bus and went back to the room. Somewhere between me leaving the bar and getting back to the hotel, I completely freaked out. I started crying hysterically because I swore that (all of the sudden) my boyfriend didn't love me anymore, because if he loved me he'd have come home with me (even though I knew he'd be home in about an hour and a half). The tears turned to rage... I started calling and text messaging him nonstop telling him that we were over and that he shouldn't bother coming back to the hotel because I wouldn't be there. (All of this sounds so childish and stupid) He came home pretty ticked off because I'd told him to stay and now I was mad that he actually stayed. We started yelling and I lost all control. I attacked him. Slapping, scratching, biting... I physically went berzerk. I feel so AWFUL about what I did. He did not attack back. Eventually I calmed down. This isn't something that has ever happened before. I am not a violent person. The argument we were having was so stupid (and we were both drunk). I feel so guilty and ashamed, because I swear that I didn't mean it. I don't know why it happened.
Well, during that trip, my boyfriend and I were supposed to get engaged. He ended up not asking because of the incident. We are still together and he demanded that I get help. I agree. I don't even know where to begin. My emotions are all over the place. I resumed taking my Wellbutrin, but I still feel out of control. I struggle with many things that aren't related to the bipolar, but that I know affects it. My father passed away three years ago very suddenly. I tried to save him, but failed at CPR... I am haunted by that daily and I feel terrible... I feel like a failure. I have flashbacks of what happened that day and it sets me off. I want to move on with my life, but I feel like I'm at a standstill. I'm lost.
I am desperate for help. I've known for a long time that I needed to get more help, but I tell myself that I can work through it myself, or that it will get better. (It is getting so much worse) I know that this is really stupid, but my main reason for avoiding treatment is because I know that mood stabilizers will make me gain weight. In the past six months, I've become increasingly obsessed about my weight. I think I might be slightly anorexic, but I don't know. It's my impression that anorexic people never eat anything and are bone thin... I eat, just very small quantities and I tell myself that it's ok to diet so much because when I do it, I only eat chicken or raw fruits and vegetables... I tell myself that I can stay healthy that way. I'm not bone thin...I'm 5'3" and about 112lbs. I still feel fat all the time... I feel gross and I pressure myself to lose more weight. I bought a scale and weigh myself every day... if I see that I've gained a pound or more, I become increasingly depressed... It causes me to alienate my friends and family... I feel like I'm too ugly and fat to go out and be seen in public. I get really paranoid about my weight in public... I think that people look at me as a fat girl. I'm afraid that if I gain weight, nobody will love me anymore... everyone tells me I look so great because I lost 20lbs and I haven't been this small since I was probably 12 years old.
I feel like a basket case and I feel guilty for being crazy. My relationship with my boyfriend is on the line and I don't want to destroy it. I need to save the only thing I care about... someone PLEASE help me! I know that I need to go to a doctor, aside from my general doc, but I don't know how to pick one out. The guy I used to go to isn't around anymore. Also, I don't even know if my health insurance covers anything. I wrote an email to them, but they have yet to respond. Do low cost clinics even exist for people with this disease?
I'm afraid that if I lose my boyfriend, I might become a danger to myself.

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I can't play doctor here, but based on my experience recently and given the fact that they didn't keep me, I'd say you're pretty safe, BUT that's just a guess on my part. My circumstances were different from yours. And, as Marci said, IF they deem it necessary for your safety to keep you, it's usually only for a max of 72 hours. You need to do what feels right for you. Nobody can force you into making a decision. I learned that one the hard way (a typical way of learning for me).
The important thing is for you to get stable. If that requires a visit to the ER, then maybe you should go. If you can find a psychiatrist who can see you asap then go that route. But it sounds as though you've endured this long enough and are ready for relief as soon as you can get it and that help usually comes from a trip to the ER because docs and clinics usually book weeks in advance..or at least in my area they do.
It's not my intention to scare you. My trip to the ER was nothing like what I pictured in my mind. Everyone that I dealt with was nice, gentle and calm and they treated me like a human being. So don't be afraid of going. The doc's there are used to situations like this. They have to be, as it is a part of emergency medicine. And, hon, your illness is just as real as the person in the next room with a sprained ankle. Make sense? I know now that if I ever hit a crisis like I did last week I would be more apt to go.
Hang in there hon. Keep us posted on how you are doing.
Hugs,
Traci
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