The agreement was if I were to be released I would find a psychiatrist and be monitored 24/7 until they deemed me stable. I also had a therapist. The psychiatrist was cold, thin, and condescending to how I was feeling. I was officially diagnosed with Bipolar 1. I remember my grandparents having to come from hours away to stay with me while my parents worked. I remember my grandpa saying to me, and I will never forget it, like a secret between just me and him that the world would never know. “We have seen things that no one else will understand and no one else will get to see.” I believed it and I still do.
I was given so many meds I can’t even remember all of them. Changing them all within weeks to new ones. My first few days out of the hospital I tried to see my boyfriend but he was different toward me. He ended it saying that I ended it first. It hurt a lot at the time. I tried going to school but everything felt gray. Before everything was so light and easy. I felt like I had to drag a dead body everywhere I went of the person I was before and could only be the person I was now. I was depressed. The medication added to my depression making me feel dull and like a zombie. I wasn’t coherent. I’d be with friends at school and just sit not even hearing a word they were saying, not responsive. I would go to therapy and not talk at all. I couldn’t. I could cry from time to time but that faded into the drugs as well. I never left my room, I dropped out of school for my Junior year.
Kayla was my last life line. She would stay home with me, she was the only person who could make me smile or feel alive even if only for minutes of the day. We started smoking weed, I still felt nothing. I started hooking up with people, nothing. Everything was nothing anymore. We bought an ouija board and tarot cards for things to do as we stayed in my room or her house most days. I remember having the Ouija board by myself and asking it to kill me, it declined. I didn’t want to kill myself. I just wanted the rest of me to fade away as it felt like most of me already had. One night a family member who is no longer in my life came into my room and told me if I was going to keep crying to just kill myself. That was it, a sign for me at least.
That night I was alone for 30 minutes. Enough time. All of my psychiatric medication was locked in a lock box. There were other over the counter medications about I grabbed all of them and swallowed as many as I could. Tylenol PM, Mucinex, and pills I didn’t even know what they were. I took all the Tylenol we had but it wasn’t much just one pill pack, and 20 Mucinex, and 10 other pills. I was on myspace at the time as I was doing it. It was hard to swallow that many pills but I perpetuated the reason why by looking at all the life others had and how dead I had become in comparison. I motivation to push through the instinct to stay alive. I hid the evidence in the trash under other trash and laid on the living room couch.
I cried for a moment then it all it me and I became very drowsy. I remember my mother and younger brother coming home from a basketball game. She asked if I was going to sleep on the couch, I said yes, and fell asleep. I woke up but felt as if I was in a dream. I couldn’t move but some other force seemed to push me and I crawled to the bathroom it was dark and I began vomiting. My older brother came in and turned on the light, everything is so hazy to me. He called my mother and she said something about pills in the vomit. I can’t remember even seeing them just hearing them. My older brother carried me to the kitchen and asked me what I took as he started pointing at different boxes. I pointed them out to him. He carried me to the car and my mother drove me to the emergency room I could only hear the sound and feel things but I couldn’t see.
I felt like I could leave at any moment but the adrenaline was too high. I felt scared not because of death I was scared to be put back into a hospital. They took me in and took tests and made me drink charcoal. They said had I taken much more Tylenol it could have been the end. I felt disappointed in myself for not succeeding and making everyone deal with me for longer. The doctors talked about taking me to a hospital again my parents refused. I was taken home and the next day I couldn’t even tell Kayla what had just happened the night before, she was the only good thing I had left and I didn’t want her to know I tried to leave her.
Eventually, it did come out and she was hurt. I decided to stop taking medication at this point. I blamed it for making me how I was or at least worse. My psychiatrist told me she was firing me as a patient and told me I would end up killing myself. Months went by and it became summer I started to feel better, therapy began to help because I was able to talk not just sit there. I went back to school in the Spring. Everything was going great, too great. Voices began after terms into school it felt like it was a repeat. I research medication on my own and discovered lithium. It interested me for a sort of petty reasons. I’ve always loved Kurt Cobain, it said he had taken it. I found a psychiatric nurse and told her what I wanted to take and I don’t want to take multiple medications or switch. She agreed that it was my health and my choice.
I got better what seemed overnight on a very low dose, the voices stopped and I could eat and sleep again. It did have side effects like pain in my stomach if I didn’t eat with it, I couldn’t take ibuprofen because it made me have headaches, I gained a little weight.
Overall I was surprised. I had written medicine off but it stopped me from going in a giant circle again. I graduated on time. Nothing in my life has ever felt better than going to hell and back and still succeeding. Graduating high school may be a low-level accomplishment to most people but it’s not about that, it is about the struggle and the hardship and the precerverance.
To this day I am still on low levels of lithium, I increase as needed and add other medications as needed. I have developed hypothyroidism from it’s use but lithium saved me. Lithium gets a bad rap because a lot of times it doesn’t work with someone’s chemsitry correctly or doctors overdose their patients. I always seek out nurse practitioners now as they seem to not want to overdose you. I’ve had struggles since this introduction but this was the start and now I will bee updating as much as possible on what my life/mood/feelings are now. Thank you for reading.