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III.


My last two manic episodes happened rather close together. I worked two years as a bookstore supervisor while I tried to come up with an avenue for my life to take. I was relatively stable during that time. The poor sleep habits necessitated by my job caused many ups and downs, though.

I looked for a career decision that would lower my stress while giving me some enjoyment. I took an indepth career assessment test that pointed me in the direction of library science. After some heavy consideration, I applied for a Master's program in that field. I was accepted.

The fall that I began school was the same year 9/11 took place. I had so many stressors in my life.

At first, it seemed as though I had a rush of energy and creativity. My emotions were on high. I didn't attribute the energy or creativity to my illness, however. I saw them as a natural by-product to my new life-plans. I always found learning exhilirating. I didn't think starting my master's program would be any different.

I, also, was feeling a great deal of emotion for a man that I had just met. He was "my kind of people". I had almost given up on finding someone like that in the real world. The high feeling associated with being in love seemed applicable in that situation as well.

But after 9/11 occured, my stress grew in enormous proportions. My emotions began to bounce uncontrollably. I stopped being able to sleep. I recognized the symptoms of my illness at that point. Unfortunately, I was being seen by a city psychiatrist. The city organization couldn't see me on an emergency basis until the weekend was over. There was no one on call.

I went to the emergency room at my local hospital. There was no psychiatric program at that hospital. The staff at the hospital evaluated me, gave me some Xanax and sent me home. My mind was racing terribly. It played tricks with me. My judgement was skewed. I was feeling paranoid.

By Monday, I was very manic. My psychiatrist did not choose to admit me to a hospital at that point. She gave me an additional mood stabilizer. She gave me no antipsychotic.

Wednesday morning I was taken to my local hospital, again, via an ambulance. I had not been sleeping. My behavior was erratic. After evaluating me, the hospital transferred me across city lines via the Sherrif's Department. I rode to an adjacent city's psychiatric hospital in the back of a Sherrif's car!!!

Two days after being admitted to the psychiatric hospital, I was shackled and taken to court. I was committed to the psychiatric facility because in the mental state that I was in I refused to freely admit myself to the hospital. My trip to court was extremely traumatic.

I gained a new doctor while I was in the hospital that stay. I had been going to a city psychiatrist because of my pre-existing insurance status. I didn't know I could be seen by a private psychiatrist. I learned that I could while I was in the hospital. Eventually, I was released.

The transition back to reality was very hard. I had months of residual mess. I, also, had to contend with my absence from school and my absence from work. It is nearly impossible to wade through life's problems when your mind is not working. Moreover, I gained back a lot of the weight that I had lost. My meds are not weight/metabolism friendly.

I pressured myself to perform. I managed to keep my new love relationship, as well. I went back to school in the spring of that year---finishing up one of my incomplete classes (I had to drop the other class and forfeit the tuition). I did well. I managed to make an A. But, the other side to my illness had not had a chance to run its course.

I spent two more months out of work due to severe depression. I did not go to the hospital. Instead, my doctor prescribed various medications to overcome the darkness and the despair. I did not, intially, take an antidepressant because of the threat of rapid cycling. Eventually, my doctor convinced me to try Effexor. The other medications were not even making a dent.

The depression lifted slowly. There were little creative bursts in between. I went back to work for three weeks. I began having horrid life-like nightmares that would wake me a couple hours after falling asleep. Those nightmares caused me to have no sleep. That state of mind continued for days.

I checked myself into the hospital for fear of a manic break. My mind raced incessantly. I was short-tempered. I was terrified.

I asked to be placed on the floor that I had been admitted to the previous fall. I needed to be able to relax without expectations being placed on me. My mind continued to exaccerbate. Eventually I lost all lucidity. I was in a state of psychosis when I was released from the hospital. My insurance capped. My doctor's plan was to send me through a partial program that the insurance company would agree to pay for. Once I was in the partial program, he could readmit me and the insurance would pay. My doctor did not explain this to me or to my family members (because I am over 21, no one other than myself can have knowledge concerning me or my treatment without written consent).

I was hospitalized, again, without anyone knowing where I was or what had happened to me. I was so psychotic I had no idea anyone else needed to know. That stay was horrid. I was placed on a more sedate floor. I couldn't "behave" to its standards so I was placed in solitary confinement over night. The hospital staff, also, tried to strip-search me that evening to make sure I was not carrying contraband. I was incensed beyond any reason. When my doctor arrived the next morning, I wanted out. I made him release me on AMA (Against Medical Advice) discharge. I called a cab and went home. I was high as a kite and extremely disgruntled.

My family was terrified and upset. First, they didn't know what had happened to me, then they never got called back by my doctor, and finally, I arrived home still sick as sick, needing to be monitored.

The next several weeks were long and hard. I was up all hours of the night. My boyfriend was at my beck and call. My family remained in a constant state of fret and worry. I took Risperdal during that time. Eventually my psychosis began to subside.

I stayed out of work for a couple of months. My short term disability from my employer ran out. I lost my job!!! I was panic-stricken. I didn't have all my cognitive abilities back in place and I suddenly had no income. My insurance coverage was okay because of Cobra.

I found a new job. Intially, it was very hard. Nothing was familiar and I had to perform when all my cognitive abilities had not been restored, yet. I had horrible panic attacks. I, also, gained more weight, again.

My doctor referred me to a therapist and he added Xanax to my list of meds (Lithium and Neurontin to stabilize, Levoxyl to regulate my thyroid, Trazodone to sleep [Risperdal only until psychotic symptoms persisted]). I took/take the Xanax as needed for anxiety.

Currently I am fairly stabilized with some residual depression and anxiety. I am working a job that has regular hours, which seems to help tremendously. I am taking one class towards my master's program. I struggle with finding a quality life. My boyfriend continues to be a part of my life. The financial and legal aspects of Bipolar Disorder plague me. My support system is rather minimal. I continue to have questions without answers. I look for new answers daily.

In addition to the stressors, the lack of education in regard to Bipolar Disorder, the inability to determine a difference between my illness and my personality, the poor reactions to my cries for help, the medication faux pas, etc., there is, also, a possible correlation to my episodes that I failed to mention. My menstrual cycle coincided with every manic episode. Moreoever, my cycle has always been hard on me both emotionally and physically. I continue to look for information about Bipolar Disorder and hormones. I have noticed some research facilities are beginning to explore hormonal links to Bipolar Disorder.

I hope my story will help people as similarities are drawn and insights are made.

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