How I Got Here

I have had many things put to my name, but the big one is Bipolar Disorder. Throughout all the hospital stays and other treatments, I have obtained Generalized Anxiety, Post Traumatic Stress, and Borderline Personality diagnosis. I also have a history of self injury.

These things only really became a part of my life until after the birth of my daughter. I had the craziest, most stressful year of my lift leading up to her birth, and the stress of caring for her pretty much on my own pushed it over the edge.

I had just found my niche in real estate, my husband was doing his thing, supervising a tech support team, but then lost his job. I had to give up my career, and start working doing something with a guaranteed paycheck. Husband found a third-shift position, and so I looked for one too, so we wouldn’t be adjusting our schedules too much to spend time together.

We both hated our jobs, and Husband decided to join the Coast Guard. My sister worked at the recruiting office in our area, and helped us get through the process as quickly as possible. I knew that he joining meant we would be moving away from our home in Minnesota, and a small possibility that I would be left on shore while his boat sailed for weeks to months.

For a month or two before I had to quit my job, I was very ill, and had a problem working my entire shift every night. The over-nights were just so hard on my body, and I was physically ill almost every night. After I quit my job, and got ready to temporarily move to my mom’s, I found out that I was pregnant! This was two weeks before Husband was to leave for boot camp for two months.

Being the first one in our family to have a baby was exciting, but I was also moving away, and wouldn’t be able to share this with my mom and sister. I was feeling very alone, and ripped from my family.

When we got to our destination in Houston, we found a two bedroom apartment, and tried to make a home out of it for the baby on the way. We only had one car, and Husband was working long shifts as he was being trained in. I had no where to go, and was stuck in the apartment all day. The most I could do was walk across the street to the grocery store.

Six weeks from when my daughter was due, I got to a point where my gall bladder needed to be removed. It was so serious that doctors delivered the baby c-section, then removed my gall bladder a week later. My little girl was perfect, and had no health concerns; she was ready to go home before I was.

Husband continued to work long, long shifts, and I had a baby with a problem staying awake to breastfeed. She ate every two hours around the clock, meaning I did not get a good night’s sleep, ever. This went on for two months, and then the cutting began.

I was admitted to a psychiatric hospital, and then another where ECT was available. It was a total of 45 days. ECT has pretty much destroyed my brain; I was given it for so long (I did ECT outpatient for six months), my memory of things, I fear, will never return. I have no memory of anything between Husband graduating from boot camp and about when my daughter was 18 months. It is shaky for a full three years surrounding it. My short term memory has taken a hit as well; it is just too hard to remember things minute to minute. Even when I write things down, and take efforts to remember, some things can slip through.

What I have written here is mostly from what I have been told by my husband. He does not give details out too freely, and his thoughts are that it was a very dark time, and is unpleasant to think about. There is no reason to bring up things that will just upset me. I agree to a certain point, but I still want to know. I am asked questions all the time to compare my daughter to my son in behavior at whatever age, or just outright questions about what Daughter was like. I just guess and make things up.

Since the six months of ECT, I have been back to the hospital about seven times. The hospital in Houston became familiar to me, I knew what kind of treatment I would be getting, what the accommodations were, and just how things work in general. I have been the hospital once since we have moved back to Minnesota, and it was a horrible experience. There was almost no therapy, the care I received was unacceptable, and I was not released when I asked to be—this being done when the doctor said I had no risk of harming myself if I left. I was also pregnant at the time, and was feeling not good with my blood pressure, and they did not provide the care I wanted from an OB. They would not release me so that I could go see my OB either. It was just bad all around. I will have to choose another hospital next time and hope it is better (if there is a next time).