I've been reading many of the posts on this board and figured I should finally introduce myself.
My story is pretty much like everyone else. I've been recently diagnosed with BPD II. Not a young person anymore as I will be 63 this summer. I now realize that I've had this for most of my life. My mother had Bipolar and a brother was schophrenic. My other brothers and sisters all suffer from constant bouts of depression. I've flown under the radar for so long being mis-diagnosed with depression, labelled an alcoholic, gambling addic, workaholic. If there is something to become addicted to it will somehow find me.
I grew up cross-eyed, father died when I was 5 and I was physically and verbally abused by my schophrenic brother growing up. Molested by a pervert at the age of 10. I became a Juvenile delinquent and my mother used to drag me to a fundamentalist church every Sunday morning. That I really hated even at that young of an age because they were always trying to play with my mind. My brother is dead now but I could never hate him because I knew he had a problem. He got to the point where he could no longer live amongst people and became a hermit in the British Columbian mountains where he was found dead a few years ago by the R.C.M.P. I graduated with honours from High School and I was sure I was schophrenic like my brother because of my constant mood changes. I was sure I was 3 different people. I now know I was in a way. The manic me, the depressed me and the me that lived in between both extremes. Now at the age of 63 I realize that there is no doubt whatsoever that I'm Bipolar with some paranoia tossed in.
My jobs have gone from upper management like Paymaster of a large Corporation to the next job which would be a labourer and then suddenly get another job as a Senior Accounting Clerk. Whatever role I wanted to play I could quickly adapt. Some very interesting jobs like running different machines in machine shops. I even once had a job running a ju jube machine. I gained some weight on that job <grin>. Once lived on Vancouver's skid row and in my home town here lived on the river bank as a chronic alcoholic. My fondest memories are of being a hippie in the 60's in Vancouver. A "love child" rejecting the establishment of that time. It was the only time when I truly felt free.
In a way Bipolar has not always been bad for me. The manic rushes has inspired lots of creativity at the right times. I've lead a colourful life. Married twice. Travelled back and forth across Canada many times working at different jobs. I was lucky enough to have a good job for the last 15 years with some stability and my obsession was to try and camp in different States every summer on vacation. I now have camped in 33 states and 8 Canadian Provinces.
I stopped flying under the radar early last year when a Doctor prescribed anti-depressants for me because I had burned myself out in my job working 60 to 70 hours per week. Up to that point people just considered me to be extremely eccentric, moody, but likeable so they accepted my oddities.
Everything changed. I started rapid cycling and over 6 months destroyed everything I had worked to create. I lost my driver's licence and was tossed in jail one night and rang up credit card debt to the tune of $85,000 from gambling and spending sprees. Had a few pschyotic episodes. At one point I even thought I was God. Was suspended from work because I would yell and scream at people and at one point became obsessed with the secretary who was 20 years younger than myself. Naturally, I was finally sent home and told to get help. Being sent home prompted me try a serious suicide attempt which almost worked. That's when the Doctors decided that maybe my problem was more that just depression.
Now I'm trying to cope the best I can with mood changes. Because the PDoc screwed up on the anti-depressants he will only prescribe divalproex for me which only hinders the manic phases but not the depression. I think he is scared of prescribing something for my depression. I have already decided that the Mental Health system sucks. It seems that everything you want to try to get better you first have to go on long waiting lists. I'm still on sick leave from work and do not want to go back to that pressure cooker so I'm considering early retirement.
I'm bored so I seem to notice every single mood change. I have made an inventory of my life and have no doubts whatsoever that I have BAD II and just mystified why no one every suggested it as my problem.
I also feel a sense of relief. I now know what is wrong with me. I no longer live in fear that people will decide that I am crazy or insane because I now have something concrete wrong with me. A chemical imbalance.
Last Monday I finally started a day program at our local hospital with people suffering different Mental Health issues. It's for 3 hours every morning through the week and their plan is to teach the individuals like myself all the aspects of Mental Illness including learning to recognize triggers, etc. and how to cope with them. I like it so far. You get to listen to people with various problems from Panic Disorders and severe depression. Yesterday a Nurse who specializes in medications spent the morning with us answering our questions about different meds.
I'm starting to ramble so I better close off.
Thanks,

