Content warning – drugs, suicide, mental health
Since its bipolar disorder day, I should write about my own battle with this illness.
I was first diagnosed with clinical depression at 12, I had started earlier on in my life feeling suicidal, and low. I saw my first therapist at 10.
At 11 I had started self harming, though it was never picked up till I was 14. I would constantly struggle with my low moods and at 13 had my first suicide attempt. I was put on prozac at 13, and after a while my mood changed. I began to become delusional, I was hyper and reckless. I would put myself in risky situations and started taking drugs. I then would end up with crippling lows that always resulted in me being in hospital. After my psychiatrist said I should see my father, because it might cheer me up, I took a massive overdose and ended up very sick. I had taken paracetamol in doses everyday slowly for about 5days (I was taking 20/30 a day) till I said I needed help. By the time I had got to the hospital I had turned yellow. I had a nasty reaction and my liver was failing.
As you know, I’m here writing this so I survived. I still have liver issues, and are now regularly tested to see how its doing.
My psychiatrist ended up being struck off, turns out you shouldn’t give children prozac, it can bring on other mental issues. I then started seeing a new psychiatrist and he was entirely supportive. He tried getting me to talk about my trans issues and was the doctor to finally diagnose me with bipolar disorder. My levels were able to be worked on, and he recommended me sedatives for my super manic episodes, and for my nightmares, but that we should work together on a creative level rather than a medicated side. I saw him until I left home.
I managed a good year before I broke down. I however rather than seeing a doctor,crack and heroin were my doctor. I quit the drugs (well those ones) eventually. But I still would party to excess. If I wasn’t hyped up to get reckless I was low. I attempted suicide a good few times. Eventually I saw a therapist, who I saw up until I was 25. She brought me back round to working with my feelings, and did art therapy with me. It was only then, I was able to explain the demons that are in my hear, my hallucinations, the panic and fear I live with and my fixation with death. Shortly after my 25th I came out as trans, and although I his my mental health history from my psychiatrist who assessed me, I felt the happiest I had in a while. I had actually dealt with it really well up until October. I tried to jump off a bridge. My brain started playing tricks with me, I stated failing to sleep, and I was starting to get low. At the moment, I’m on pills, but I’m hoping to go through therapy again.