So today on 01/27/13 I am taking a pledge at the age of 27 (complete coincidence) to blog for mental health. I am well aware that I mention how I treat my Bipolar disorder as a redheaded stepchild in my ‘About & Contact’ page, but there is always room for growth and change.
I pledge my commitment to the Blog For Mental Health 2013 Project. I will blog about mental health topics not only for myself, but for others. By displaying this badge, I show my pride, dedication, and acceptance for mental health. I use this to promote mental health education in the struggle to erase stigma. * I do feel like a real scout now *
Having the feelings I do about support groups and therapy not being a great fit for me, this is taking a big step. I have handled my diagnosis in a manner similar to, “Here kid, take your Lith and go to bed. Disorders are not to be seen or heard, so shut the hell up and leave me alone. You’re bugging me.” This is fucked, but to put it into perspective, I get the same feeling thinking about my diagnosis as I do attempting to read The Bible. No, I still haven’t got past Adam and Eve in the First Testament and I only like the most famous part of Corinthians in the Second. What is that feeling? Assuming you’re not a pedophile, it’s like walking into a room and seeing an adult inappropriately touching a child.
That one on the bottom… yeah. That’s freaking disgusting. Also the reason my goal is to get my degree in social work.
Back to me. I live in denial. It’s very nice here. I hang out with seemingly un-certifiably crazy people and pretend those 2 psych medications I am on are candy. OK that’s a lie, I don’t even like candy unless it’s chocolate and unfortunately they do not look, smell or taste like chocolate.
My first diagnosis of Bipolar disorder was back in April(ish) of 2007 or 2008, I seriously don’t know. Anyway. I was in the middle of a complete psychosis. I don’t remember much other than the belief that the pharmacists I worked with were part of this big Oxycodone ring. I also believed everything was bugged; my car, my bedroom stereo, my cellphone and all these people could hear what I was doing and were reporting to each other their observations. I believed everyone knew I was crazy and that stranger on the street walking his dog was keeping tabs on me to see if they needed to admit me to the hospital. My sister found the psychiatrist I am with now. He diagnosed me with Bipolar I Disorder and put me on a cocktail of Lithium, Abilify and Lamictal. My eyes were glassy, it was coming to an end on my 3 month leave of absence and I could not go back to work looking like I was doped up. Hence, the manipulative side of Sarah…
I was seeing a psychologist at the time also. I told him this was bullshit and there was no way I was Bipolar. I told him all the drugs I was doing in recreation before the psychosis and he believed what I had experienced was a drug induced psychosis. It was true though. For 4 months before my break I was a heavy user of Cocaine, Adderall, Pot and sometimes Ecstasy. Against my psychiatrist’s treatment and belief, I weened myself off the medications. He flipped out and said if I was serious then he’d have to fire me so he wouldn’t be liable if I committed suicide. He then told me of the patient he had let go because they refused treatment. He told me that he ran into that patient’s father about a year later and asked how the patient was and there he was informed that the patient had killed himself just 3 weeks prior to my psychiatrist running into the man.
I’m still alive. I went on fine until June of 2011. In fall of 2010 I was becoming severely depressed and I have always had issues with mental health. When I was an adolescent I was a self mutilator and in and out of crisis centers. I was put on Zoloft and little was I aware that the social butterfly I had become was thanks to hypomania. I neglected my significant other to go party with my girlfriends and by June I was full-blown manic. I had all these brilliant ideas. If I didn’t stay up until 4 AM I woke up exactly at 4 AM. I loved cleaning and organizing (I hate cleaning and organizing) and then BOOM! Psychosis is back and I am taken to an adult psychiatric hospital. I lost my job as a pharmacy technician because I quit. A pharmacist who doesn’t even work at my store reported inappropriate behavior which I tried to deny and she had actually picked out of the garbage a piece of paper I had doodled on while I had a break to complete a Continuing Education credit on the computer which is slow as shit. So I told my district supervisor that I wanted to leave and she said I didn’t need to and I said I did.
I then went to work for Walgreen and there I got into a conflict with a pharmacist which caused me to quit after only a couple of months. I called my psychiatrist who didn’t remember me, which was good, and it took a year, but I’m not so manic, not so psychotic, not really all that crazy and just slightly depressed which I can handle.
I want to work again, but I am scared. I am scared of my behavior going off again or being so sensitive that if I do something wrong unintentionally I will quit again. I maintained a perfect record at CVS. I have worked the Photo Lab, Shift Manager, Pharmacy Technician with a Customer Service award that I had to accept in front of people from all over our region and the CEO himself. And a promotion to Lead Technician. Not a single mark on my record for anything. Never had to be talked to for any misdeed. I’ve never seen the inside of a Principal’s office. Any bad behavior I’ve been part of has been on my time and never reflected on anything school or work wise. For some reason I have to be perfect for the outside world. I’ve always felt that way. Even when I was very young. I aim to please and I aim high. Probably why my diagnosis and I aren’t all on the up and up.
That wasn’t very short. Oh well. I’m blogging for mental health now and I think you should, too. If you want.