One BP's Story

I am 58 years old, now. One of my sisters, the one closest to me in age and temperament, was diagnosed with BPD in the early 90s. Three days after Thanksgiving in 1998, she took her life with a handgun. In 2001, knowing that I was like her and suffering some problems of my own, I went to a psych and asked if I had BP. The doc asked a few questions, then assured me that my ailment was chronic depression and gave me an antidepressant. I quickly went into a severe mania that lasted over two years. I did not see a doc in that time, was undiagnosed and untreated. I lived through hell, using alcohol and drugs to try to keep myself down.
In May, 2003, I wound up in a hospital after a couple of psychotic episodes, was diagnosed with BP and put on meds. I quickly found an excellent psych, entered therapy (my current therapist is terrific), and found a Peer Support Group that is sponsored by my local Mental Health Association. I have gone through innumerable med changes and been hospitalized 8 times with suicidal ideations, but I have not given up.
Today, I facilitate my support group. It has been almost a year and a half since I was last hospitalize. My core meds are stable, with only some tinkering with dosages occurring. Life, today, is great.
I know this is a progressive illness and that there is no cure. But any day I am not hyper-manic or horribly depressed is a victory. And I know time, money and effort is going into finding better solutions for my illness. I will not be defeated.

That's awesome dude! (or woman). Thanks for sharing a message of hope on x-mas eve.

-kby-

You've been very reassuring to many of us on here. Thank you for that and I wish you happiness and stability! :)

I needed your story! I was diagnosed with BP when I was 40; I'm 56 now and drew a great deal of encouragement from you since you are about my age and have overcome so many setbacks. Like you, I know that BP lurks beneath the surface and remains a threat to stability, but I'm working now to stop defining myself as a psych patient and to regain some self-esteem, which I lost when my teaching career ended with what turned out to be permanent medical leave. I have found 2 peer support groups (run by and for mental-health consumers) in towns nearby and am working up the nerve to attend one. Your story gives me the courage to actually DO it!

April 17th 2012 was when I made the stupidest decisions of my life and the best. I decided to end my life. I took what I thought was a bottle of 30 trazadone pills. It was not. It was a bottle of 15. I decided about 1/2 hour into the stupidity that I did not want to die. I started praying. I had ripped the phone out of the jack because I was raging at my ex boyfriend and he said he was going to have me arrested for harassment so no phone. I couldn't find my cell. I staggered around praying and praying, God please don't let me die. I want to see my children get married this fall. I want to see my grandchildren. This went on for about another 1/2 hour. I finally gave up and laid down. I could hear my heart beating loud and irregularly. I turned over on my side and went to pull the covers over me. As I did there was my cell phone. He answered my prayer.
I am alive today. I had thought about ending it before but never acted upon it before. It will never ever happen again. I know this might not sound like a success or victory story but for me it is both. Never give up hope. You can make it through anything....

I want to Congradulate all of you for your success. Right now I am sitting in a hospital bed after receiving another four stents. I had four before. Pain started during support group fri afternoon. Best thing is I have been surrounded by friends who love me.

Life isn't perfect, but the love of friends and family is great.