I have bipolar illness. I am a recovering self-injurer.I was first diagnosed bipolar and other things at age 28. I am sure I was bipolar long before, by the grace of God, I met the incredible doctor who diagnosed me. He is still my doctor, still incredible. And he saved my life more than once. (I had something to do with that, too, by the way. He couldn't have done it without my help - and vice-versa!!)
My life had been in a "spiral down to a living hell" mode for quite some time. Nobody else knew, because I hid everything inside. I learned how to do that as a child. I had been feeling "wrong" - progressively - for years. Since I was a kid. Everyone thought I was just "waaaaay too sensitive." After college, my bipolar depression really started to rear its ugly head. After I got married, I became ill so quickly that I am sure that I blew the speedometer.
My husband knew a very good therapist. I did not think I needed to see one, but my husband took me to see him. I met with him but a few times before he hooked me up with my wonderful psychiatrist. Shortly after I was diagnosed, my mental condition was worse than serious. I am told I was grandiose in my thinking. I don't remember. I began cutting and burning myself. Small cuts at first, but like a junkie, I needed more and more to purge myself of the pain. Same thing with the burning. And none of it hurt - in fact, I felt euphoric after each incident. I had psychotic episodes. I was delusional and suicidal. I was hospitalized twice in two years. After that, it was still a few years for me to experience even periods of stability. I was on a lot of medications during that time; my pdoc worked diligently to find the right combination of stuff that would work for me. Some of the meds worked for a while, but then they didn't. I was in therapy. If I could focus, I could work on my issues. If the meds weren't working, I couldn't focus, and I took a few steps back. Two steps back, one step forward. But gradually, things began to work. My pdoc got me on the right combination of meds, and for the first time in years, I began to feel "clear-headed": the mind static stopped. I worked hard to get "better." And my hard work, along with the help of my pdoc, really paid off. I'm still on meds and have recently been diagnosed as ADD as well. But it's okay. I'm okay. In fact, "I'm good." I still have episodes of depression, social phobia, and hypomania. But these don't happen very often and are not nearly as intense as they were in the past. And during these periods, I can still parent - very effectively. I stay on my meds and work with a wonderful therapist. It took me years to find her. My pdoc hooked me up with her, and she is the only therapist that I have ever connected with. She, like my pdoc, is on the cutting edge of understanding and identifying mental illness and other stuff - like ADD, for instance.
So, I was first diagnosed bipolar and other things at age 28. Do the math - I'm 45 years old now, and we adopted our children when I was 39. I was BP long before we adopted. The only thing we needed was from my pdoc was a written statement declaring me "fit," and "ready, willing and able" to parent. His letter included the following information:
- I was stable,
- how long I had been stable
- that I saw him regularly (every month) for a med check
- that in his professional opinion i was able to parent a child (or children). He gave me a very positive letter of recommendation.
THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT: "LOOSE LIPS SINK SHIPS" or "NO SUPPLEMENTS OR ADDITIVES!" In other words: "STICK TO THE BASICS"
I only gave very basic information regarding my diagnosis. Our worker did not ask me to elaborate. I did not, for example, tell the worker that I was a recovering self-injurer, that I was hospitalized twice for several months at a time, that I did this, that, and other things that surely would have raised more than just a few eyebrows.
