I have struggled with this illness which seems like forever. Right now I feel like I have a dark cloud hovering above me, around me, suffocating me. I am so sick of feeling this way. A couple of years a go during my lamictal period (I am still on it 300 mg since 2005 I think). Well, I was doing ok, I guess.

I have been on disability since 2003. I lost my business due to fibromyalgia, chronic pain and the stress of running a fairly exclusive day spa that catered to major sports figures and their family (Orlando Magic) and other affluent people and local celebrities in the Central Florida area. My life basically was spinning out of control most of that time. I remember the last day I worked. I said to myself: if I lose this business, I will just die - my life will be over as I know it. Everything I worked for - gone. Shortly prior to this happening, my husband at the time leaves. I guess he did not want to put up with me ignoring him and my mood swings.

We can get pretty difficult to be around when we want to, even when we don’t. Even when that’s not who we are. Most people that new me, the old me (I have since disconnected myself from that life and all my friends from that era and the past - now a total recluse) thought I was charming, kind, generous, just an all around terrific person. I concealed the real me very well. And, that funny, because I don’t know who the real me is. I did not want anyone to know the physical and emotional sometimes relentless suffering I was in. That was a hard job. You know. The hiding. The secrets. Even from my family. Then, yes, trying to get them to understand me. Yearning, hoping for there support. I was drowning, and I needed someone to rescue me.

Finally at the end (after 25 years of one and off depression and craziness) some of it wonderful (you know what I am talking about). Oh, I even married a very handsome and charming Englishman after only knowing him 7 weeks, who just happened to work for a major Indy racing team. We traveled like gypsies all over the US and Europe, and for a brief period (83-84) I lived in London. That was before, I was diagnosed having bipolar disorder This was in the ’80s, before, I married the school teacher in 1993 - big wedding with all the bells and whistles (Mr. nice guy “boring”). I did this “wedding thing” I guess just to feel like I was normal - like it was something I was supposed to do. I would be respected. Fortunately - I don’t have children - what kind of mother would I have made anyway?

Well, back to husband No. 2. He turned out to be a smug A hole who left me “holding the bag” after 8 years of marriage to drown in a sea of debt from the failing day spa business after realizing I was soo sick (I had this dreadful mental illness ahh BIPOLAR DISORDER) and a host of other medical issues including Fibromyalgia. (I was the TItanic, and he was getting off) COWARD.

I have been on so many medication cocktails in the past, as a result I have been hospitalized for sucide attempts and major depression episodes. The last one in 2004 (which was a nightmare). I swore that I would never go to a hospital again after that. I was so traumatized by that experience (they the people that took me out of my county and dispatched me to another hospital/clinic? (this was shortly after the 3 hurricaines, and this place they call a treament center/hospital whatever it was, it was more like a small prison run by pseudo nazi’s, was waterlogged and full of mold from hurricaine damage. They kept the temperature at 60 degrees to inhibit further mold growth. They (the powers that be: staff made up of Psychiatric Attilla the Hun and former drug addicts and bureacratic trowaways - didn’t even tell my primary care physican or my pdoc that they had me and my parent were thinking about getting a court order to get me out of there.

It was all about politics. It was all about the the insurance money - who had insurance - whose insurance would pay - they would keep, and that would be me and a few other “innocents”. Don’t you just love the mental health care system. Well, enough about that. I shiver just thinking about that. I probably should have been hospitalized since then, like now, seen another doctor etc. but because of that experience, I have imprisoned myself in my home waiting to, I don’t know - till things get better - I feel motivated enough to wash, get out bed - to live some kind of life.

I sometimes lie here paralyzed by this illness - I cry - I stop crying - than I think, I could be one of these people that help others. I could volunteer. I could be a good person. I could matter. I could paint. I could pick up a book and read it g damn it. I love to read - reading soothes me. But now - all I do is look at the TV and stare at old episodes of Law and Order. One day blurs into the next. I love when people infur that you are feeling sorry for yourself or you have no responsibility so thus you do nothing because you can do nothing. That is a crock. No one wants to feel this way. Half dead. At least, I don’t.

Oh, by the way, I was not diagnosed with being bipolar officially until 2000 or thereabout. I say officially because there was some talk amongs the pdocs at the clinic that I might be (bipolar, that is) and I was lost in the shuffle between doctors and, hence not given the correct meds at the time (back in ‘98). This was at the height of my business’ success. Anyway, long story.

Before, that I just went was considered to be a depressive who was prone to very dark moods. I think they called it dysthymia and than they labeled me cyclothymic. Don’t ya love labels. Clothes are labeled, not people. Anyway, here I am, sitting at this computer. I am thinking whose ever reading this must be thinking this girl is gonna off herself. I’m not. Although the thoughts are there. Most of the time. I think they call that suicidal ideation. I have at the same pdoc for the last 11 years. He treats probono because of my loss of income (and he is an extremely kind man) during interim commencement of disabilbity and loss of COBRA benefits as a resut of divorce. We have since then continued the same arrangement. Well since I became disabled, my financial situation is pretty bleak. Sadly, a lot of us are in the same situation thanks to the recession/borderline depression our country is now faced with.

My parents are in there 70’s (late 70′’s) believe or not my mother still works. She’s amazing. They are now, much more supportive. My mother understands what I go though, although, we were somewhat estranged for many years. She threw a lot of money at me to keep my business from going under, but to no avail she couldn’t save me nor my business. She helped me through the divorce etc. I am lucky to have such great parents. I also have a sister, who I think feels a little skittish being around me, however, I know she cares. But, what could she do, or anyone else for that matter. Well, maybe it’s my imagination.

I have a boyfriend who I have been with since shortly after my husband left me (2002) (in financial ruin) and a year after the business went under (the stess of holding on to it was to much for me to handle). Our relatonship is tumultous and confusing at best, and complicated. Then again, what relationship isn’t. In the beginning there was a lot of romantic notions and sexual interludes. Now practically nil. It has been like this for 3 years. I am just not interested AT ALL. He doesn’t want to marry me, but at the same time he is seems devoted. So I guess you can call that some kind of committment (one foot in and one foot out I call that, lol) He helps me out some. He earns a lot. He is a highly paid engineer with a major defense contractor. I feel that we are with each other out of habit. He is a serious hoarder, so I suspect, as his now adult children does, he has OCD He is also extremely tight with his money - I have asked him to help me out with dental problems etc. Well, he did by me a large TV whoo hoo and took me on vacation 2 times in 7 years - once - was with his son’s school conference.

I am so miserably down right now, I feel hopeless that I will never climb out of this abyss. I keep telling my pdoc who I see about every 6 weeks or so - that I feel like this. And, I think he is just giving up on me or frustrated. It seems that we have tried just about every medication combination there is, ie. antidepressant, SSRIs: Effexor, Lexapro, Celaxa, Cymbalta. Also, Remeron, Serzone, Amyltriplines, Elavil, Tranzadone and the new favorite of the bipolar psychiatric community ta da!:LAMICTAL, lamortorgine. I wonder why I was never put on lithium - uhm. I guess the doctor was worried about side effects since I am so sensitive to medications in general.

The antiphyschotic phase of my treatment when the bipolar was originally discovered and I went to pieces (Geodon, Trileptal, Serequel) HORRIBLE STUFF. Now I take Lamictal 300 mg , clonazapine, amibien, (hydrocondone and Soma - small amounts as needed for pain). I tried Lyrica for fibro blew up like a balloon. Zoloft didn’t work after awhile. Effexor and Cymbalta doesn’t work either. Wellbutin - nasty side effect - tremors

I don’t drink or smoke. WHY AM I NOT GETTING BETTER - DID I HIT A TREATMENT WALL. Can the phychiatric community whatever, come up with something better for us. ALL I KNOW IS THIS SADNESS IS SO PERVASIVE I FEEL LIKE I AM JUST LITERALLY WILLING MYSELF TO DIE, OR I AM JUST GOING TO WITHER WAY. I feel like I am not living, just existing. I am amongst the land of living dead. Does anyone have any similar stories; Any ideas? Is it time for ECT, Transcranial TMS, whatever???