How did I get this far?

A year ago last November, my GP (at the time) suggested I may be Bipolar. This came as a surprise to me.

Growing up
From birth, I'm told, I was always a trouble maker. Tearing up my mother's plants in the garden, hiding my brothers toys around the house and lots of other general misbehaviours. I was very hyper as a child and I'd do almost anything for attention.
Due to my father's work we moved around a lot, every 2-3 years from the age of about 7. As you can imagine, I found it very difficult to maintain friendships. It caused a lot of disruption for all of us. During my teen years I'd always end up hanging around with the 'bad' crowds just to establish some kind of popularity.

When I was 15 my father killed my mother in front of me and my two younger brothers at our family home in Worthing, East Sussex. I won't go into detail about this now, but I will visit this subject in a later post.
I guess this is where my problems really started.
I was forced to go and live with my mother's family in Portsmouth. This wasn't a bad thing but it put a huge strain on our relationship as a family, I often felt like a burden to them.

Adult life
Aged 18, I visited my GP after being advised to by my partner at the time. I explained to the GP that I had been feeling low for some weeks and had little interest in doing anything or seeing anyone. The GP signed me off work with depression for 4 weeks and gave me a 4 week prescription of Fluoxetine 10mg. This did little good. The following week I'd been feeling particularly low, more than usual, and after an argument with my partner I attempted to take the full prescription in one go. Luckily, I was caught in the act and had only managed to take 8. (My mum was clearly watching over me) This was a wake up call for me. I'd felt low in the past, but never at the point of suicide.

Following the incident with the medication I realised I needed help so my next action was to get involved in counselling. This had always been something I'd rejected when it was offered to me after my mother's death. I viewed it to very self indulgent and weak, but considering things weren't getting any better I figured it wouldn't hurt to see what it was all about.
I really surprised myself to find I could sit for an hour and babble on about absolutely anything that popped into my head, then leave feeling lighter. Getting my thoughts out there, out aloud and onto someone else had taken the weight off of my shoulders.

Feeling 'better' after 4-5 sessions I didn't bother to go back and I didn't bother to take any more of the subsequent prescriptions I'd been given. I had it in my head that because I was feeling 'better' I didn't need to continue with any of the therapies. Over the next couple of years my behaviour continued as it always had with periods of highs followed by long periods of lows. I was used to this so I was never alarmed and continued like it was normal until the November of 2007. At that time I was 21.

Taking a turn for the worse
My father had been out of prison for a few years and had set up his own landscaping business in Sheffield. I'd visited him many times since he'd left prison and the relationship seemed pretty strong. Being a father, and a family man, he was keen to have me and my brothers live close to him again. He proposed that I moved from where I was (Portsmouth) to be closer to him and begin working with him at his business. As I'd had a rocky few years I jumped at the opportunity.
At the time, I'd had many failed relationships with men and near enough ruined any relationships I had left with my mother's family because of my wreckless behaviour.
Things didn't get any better after the move. My mental health deteriorated rapidly. My parter left me, I didn't have any friends and I'd developed a fear that people, especially my father, were trying to kill me. I had lost my job so I started to sell my body for sex. I had no self worth or self respect left in me.

One morning I was woken by an old man walking his dogs. He found me lying under a bush, I'd no idea how I got there. He took me to a Samaritans building that was near by where they locked me in a cupboard with a Christmas tree, gave me a cup of tea and waited for the police to arrive. Sounds funny to me now but it really wasn't. As soon as the police would arrive I'd be carted off for sectioning.
When the police did arrive I was relieved to hear that a friend had reported my being missing to my grandmother then night before so she'd spoken to the police and was prepared for me to go and stay with her. (Mum's obviously looking over me again!)

Living with 'Granny' seemed like a great idea. She is bipolar so she could see the signs that something was wrong and also had all the right contacts to get me the help I needed.
I got myself a new GP and was assigned a CPN (Community Psychiatric Nurse). Also, now being classed as 'homeless', I was able to register with a fantastic group called Framework. They help vulnerable and homeless people get access to the services and training they need. http://www.frameworkha.org/pages/about_us.html
I had regular weekly sessions with Sam (CPN) discussing anything that was on my mind at the time and had started regularly taking the Fluoxetine 20mg prescription I had been given. This continued for about 3 months. During that time things were a lot more stable. Regular appointments with Framework to try and get my life organised gave me a sense of achievement and control. Something I'd been lacking for a long time. I'd use a rating system to describe how I was feeling on any particular day.
1 - Feeling awful and 10 - Feeling great!
Granny and I did what we could to support one an other whilst the other was down but this didn't last. After a few months, the days I was feeling okay she would bring me down and vice versa. This lead to periods of days where we wouldn't speak to each other and spend all of our time in our beds. The only time I'd ever get up would be to use the bathroom. We both relied heavily on alcohol so any time one of us did manage to leave the house we'd make sure we had stocked up.
After a few months of this I found myself in another dark place. I often felt trapped. People were telling me how I was feeling and what it all meant but I wasn't really sure if that's how I felt inside. I had doctors and psychiatrists telling me one thing, Granny telling me another, then I'd get visits from my father and my brother telling me there was nothing wrong with me whatsoever. AAARRRGGGHHH!!!

Taking 'control'
I was desperate to get out of the situation I was in, so I befriended a stranger on line. He had taken an interest in me sexually so I'd made arrangements for him to come over and meet me in Sheffield. He wasn't my type in the slightest, but I knew it was an opportunity for me to escape the 'circus' that was going on at home. After a couple of visits, and an argument with Granny, I called him one night and told him I needed to get away. He lived in Manchester but this didn't bother me in the slightest. As long as I was out of that house I'd be free!
I packed a small holdall, jumped in his car and off I went into the night. Need I say it didn't go well?
I guess to him he'd been my knight in shining armour so he felt he was entitled to lay claim to me. I was not having that at all. I was in Manchester! I was doing something new and exciting, I didn't want to be restricted by anyone at all. I'd always had a rebellious side. If someone told me not to do something I'd want to go and do it even more, and I would. Ten times bigger than if they'd not said anything at all!
He took me to Canal Street so I could see what things were like, but being the 'stay at home' type that he was, he insisted we go home at around 9:30PM. Not a chance! I was having a great time mixing with new people and drinking in bars I'd never seen the likes of before, so he left me in the bar with a guy (we'll call him H) and his group of friends we'd been chatting to earlier on. H promised he'd get me home safe but it was obvious to me he'd taken a shine to me.
I explained to H that I'd more or less run away from home and wasn't really sure whether I was coming or going. Surprisingly H told me he really liked me. He wanted me to go home, collect my things and to go and stay with him. So that's what I did.
I know you're probably thinking how absurd it is to go and live with someone I'd only just met, but in my defence I was extremely vulnerable. Anyone that could show me a light at the end of the tunnel became a saint to me. Needless to say this didn't go well either. He was a drug addict and had a terrible temper. The final straw came when he pulled a knife to my throat one night after I'd had been out and had a drink with a friend that worked on Canal Street. He didn't do anything to hurt me but he made me pack my bag and leave.
I was at such a loss. I was out in the cold in a city I didn't really know and knew barely anyone in it.

Losing 'control'
I decided to go back down to the bar I'd previously had a drink in that night. The 'friend' I'd had the drink with was still working so I pulled up a stool and explained what had happened.
Nothing. No help whatsoever. In fact he was pretty lost trying to find something to say to reassure me. What could he say though? I'd only met him twice, maybe three times. I wasn't his problem or responsibility. I hadn't spoken to my family since I'd left them the month before so I could hardly call them for help. In my head, there was only one way out of this. Suicide.
The bar was closing up so I told my friend I needed to use the bathroom before I left. When I went in, there was only one cubicle and no one around so I locked myself in and sat down on the toilet. My thoughts were everywhere, rushing through my mind looking for a solution before I committed the 'act'. Then it came to me. I'd been wearing a tie that day as earlier I'd been to work. There was a bar that ran across the top of the cubicle door. I tied my tie into a noose and tied the other end of it to the bar across the door. I stood on top of the toilet and pulled the noose over my head. For a minute I considered what I was doing. I thought about what my mum would have thought, and how my youngest brother would feel if he never heard from me again. It wasn't enough and I slipped off the toilet.
As I did my friend rushed through the door to see why I was taking so long and quickly grabbed my body. He shouted and asked me what I thought I was doing but I couldn't answer him. I didn't know what I was doing. All I could do was cry.
Given the situation, he decided to take me home with him that night. We talked about how I could be feeling so low, and the positive things he could help me do to make some changes. He too had suffered with depression in the past so he had a fair understanding of where I was coming from. He really helped.

Over the next couple of years I made some great friendships that I still have now, but the ups and downs continued as they had before.
In 2009 I had an episode of anxiety. I couldn't leave the house, sometimes my room, and had a fear of people seeing me. I was worried if people did see me they would judge me. I always felt that because there isn't enough awareness of  the mental health issues people can suffer with, it's not taken seriously.
I started a course of Citalopram, but after 3 months I stopped taking them. This was becoming a usual routine for me. I'd take something until I thought I was 'better' again and then stop and go on as normal.

Bipolar?
In November 2010, after a long period of depression, I visited a new GP and explained how I had been feeling. I gave him my family history and told him how things had been over the last few years.
With my partner, we explained how I'd have days where I couldn't get out of bed and didn't want to talk to anyone. I didn't even have the motivation to get up and wash my face or brush my teeth. These periods usually followed after periods of elatedness. I'd have a feeling of invincibility and that I could take on the world. I was totally in love with myself. These were/are the most dangerous times. In these periods I would go out drinking until the early hours and go home with anyone I'd met that night. I didn't use protection so I was taking a big risk with my physical health (HIVNegative, just for the record). Sometimes the elated moods were harmless. I'd be at home cleaning 'til the early hours of the morning and would need little sleep.
The GP suggested I could be bipolar. Obviously I was aware what that was but it had never been suggested to me before. He stuck me back on Citalopram and I continued to take these for 4 and a half months, gradually increasing my dose to 40mg. At 40mg I thought I could feel the effect and was beginning to have more pleasure in doing things, seeing friends.. etc.
Then I had another episode. In April 2011 I decided I didn't need my boyfriend any more and would be better off if we broke up. I was confident I'd be much happier on my own, only needing my friends. He wasn't too pleased about this, he'd stuck by me for a long time whilst I was getting help so it must have been a massive kick in the teeth for him.
One night, after I'd been out on a wild weekend bender, I returned home and he didn't want me there any more. In a blind range I assaulted him and was arrested that night and charged.
I was sentenced to 1 year probation and a £1000 fine. I'm not proud of what I did, but the help I've received since the indecent makes me view it as a blessing in disguise.

Through the probation service I have gained help via the IAPT programme (Improving Access to Psychological Therapies). I now meet once a week with a psychologist and we discuss the ups and downs I've experienced that week, and look a routines I can put in place to avoid negative situations. I've been referred for a full assessment with the mental health team at the MRI and a review of my medication (foolishly not taking) so I'll look forward to that at the end of this month. (I'll keep you posted)

I have a big problem with keeping things bottled up at the moment. There are days when I don't want to talk to anyone, not even my closest friends or boyfriend, so I'm going to use this blog to vent everything that comes into my head then hopefully use that to reflect on, when I'm feeling more positive.


Stay happy! :-)