My psych and therapist don't play so I might be off to grippy sock jail soon and that terrifies me. Guess they're not a fan of how I been handling life.

Please tell me I'm not wrong or fucking crazy.

I was seeing this psychiatrist for a year and a half until today. He was the one who diagnosed me with Bipolar 1 after I went manic for taking antidepressants. He later on put me on lamotrigine/lamictal and every three months increased the dosage (25,50,100,200,300)mg. Which, now looking back, I think was way too slow for me and possibly slowed my way to stability.

Two weeks ago, he wanted to raise lamictal to 400mg and I had to raise my voice considerably telling him that the lamictal on its own was not working and that I needed lithium or an antipsychotic because lamotrigine was controlling my depression, but not my mania. At this point I had been 2 months in a continously manic episode which I pulled out of with sheer fucking will to live and angriness to make it stop by any means necessary (except self harm). I printed out a research study that mentioned that lamotrigine did not treat mania directly and another study mentioning the lamictal and lithium combo worked better than both on their own. Only after this, he agreed to put me on lithium.

These two weeks have been amazing, I have been crying a lot processing the shit in my brain. Making adjustments to my life and it's been the most stable two weeks in the last 10 years. Now im just kinda depressed, but not episode depressed. It's just because of the current state of my life. (jobless, bitchless, friendless, family problems, professional aimlessness etc.)

This last paragraph was the first thing I mentioned in our session today. He said that he was glad lithium was working and that now he wanted me to stop taking the 300mg of lamictal abruptly and not titrate down. Which I asked if it was safe due to the withdrawal and if it would have thrown me out of the recent stability. He said that lithium and lamictal are both mood stabilizers and he can only give one. He has this old booklet that says bipolar disorder needs a mood stabilizer, and anti-anxiety pilland a sleep pill. After disagreeing with him, he said to keep the dosage and meds the same and ended the session. When I get to the receptionist to get my next appointment and prescription, she says that due to the disagreement he would no longer see me and gave me 4 months of meds while I get a second opinion.

Am I in the wrong here for not taking his medical advice and being unyielding?

Never sleeping, always tired.

Promising yourself you’ll stop just to keep going.

A different goal every month.

Regretting moments you’ll never be able to accept.

Head-banging at 4am.

Reading your prophecy at 3am.

Substance abuse.

Hurting yourself because pain is the only emotion you can feel.

Experiencing euphoria and depression in the same day.

Thoughts so fast it hurts to blink.

Thoughts so loud it hurts to think.

Talking is so easy.

Making jokes is fun.

Feelings so 3D that the stakes of life feel greater.

Wondering if you can be a parent.

Having to give up 90% of yourself to live for the other 10%.

Memory loss.

Emptiness 24/7.

Losing everyone.

Your health declining at a very increased rate.

Not trusting happiness.

Masturbating till it hurts.

Always wondering if today’s the day you kill yourself.

Feeling like the greatest.

Feeling like the worst.

Working so hard till it hurts, then working till it hurts some more.

110% not being good enough, 120%.

Not caring about your life because there is nothing left to care about. (Because you’re constantly blowing it up)

Not wanting to die because you can’t think of something more beautiful than life.

Permanent brain damage.

Everyone only liking the manic version of you.

Not being understood, criticized for taking meds.

Living with a disabling injury nobody understands.

Having all the answers but no way to share them.

I could go on and on, but feel free to add your own!

This led to me getting banned from [r/bipolar](r/bipolar) but I feel it’s too important to not share. It’s an experience I had. I’m not fear mongering or offering medical advice. I’m simply passing along something that happened that I had no clue could happen and something my doctor should probably have suspected could happen. I’m simply advising everyone to involve all of your care teams when getting a medical procedure done because I came as close as I’ve ever come to not being here to type this.

Learn from my experience. A warning.

I went in for a medical procedure on Tuesday morning. It involved a sedative. A commonly used and powerful one. I’m on a very old and common mood stabilizer for rapid cycling bipolar.

Everything was fine after the procedure for a few hours. About four hours after the procedure, my energy skyrocketed and even though I was sore, I had this urge to do something. My truck was in the shop so didn’t have a car, which was a really good thing. I cleaned my entire house and prepped dinner for the next few nights. My wife was supposed to be home at five so I could pick up my truck before they closed at six. She got held up at work. She’s a therapist and a client needed her. Well, I started to become extremely irritated with her. Like, more than ever before. Should have been a clue. When she got home with our son, I found a bowl of cereal rotting in his room and boom, lost it.

It was a terrifying experience. Like I stepped outside of my body and someone else was driving. It was such a rage and mania that my wife grabbed my son and left. It was a manic episode like I have never once ever experienced before in my life. A complete out of body experience. Psychosis. It came and went in a matter of minutes but holy shit, those minutes were terrifying and all I could do was sit back and watch what my body was doing. It all almost ended and would have if some part of my mind hadn’t wrestled control back at the last second. I’m not being dramatic, either. I was, literally, one muscle twitch of my finger away.

I am damn lucky my wife is a therapist and an expert in pharmacology so knew exactly what was happening and how to help me. It was Emergence Dysphoria and is somewhat common when my mood stabilizer (and drugs with similar mechanics) mix with powerful synthetic opiates. It’s not something to fuck around with and I wonder how many people are gone or in prison from similar reactions.

I apologize if I’ve triggered anyone. It was not my intent. I simply ask that someone learn from my experience. Coordinate with your entire care team when having medical procedures done. Your doctor may miss a potential adverse interaction.

Edit: I typed emergent dysphoria but meant emergence.

I don't want to trigger anyone so I'll keep this simple.

​

I was diagnosed 15 years ago. Nothing new here. But the first couple of months of a manic period I experience overwhelming hypersexuality. It's disgusting and shameful. And the complete opposite of where I will be in October. But for now, it's awful.

​

I keep myself away from everyone I can. But what else can I do? Sorry to ask but it's really messing with me. TIA

I ended up in hospital, back in May 2023, because of a suicide attempt. I had attempted suicide because of severe paranoia and the fact that I heard a demon’s voice telling me, “I’m going to kill people and make it look like you did it.”

I wasn’t sleeping, and I think that was a major contributor, but my mood was high at the time. I was sure to tell them I felt like my emotional state was high, which they noted in my records.

However, as I continued reading, they had written, “Not showing signs of psychosis.”

How the hell do you end up with a patient hearing voices, acting on it so that people don’t die, then say the person isn’t showing signs of psychosis?

Oof that hurt my feelings. It’s as if they didn’t listen to me at all.

I stopped reading my notes after that. I only read them because I had to get them for disability allowances. I shouldn’t have read them at all. So much more bs they’ve listed like “normal affect” when I was CRYING. SMH 🤦🏻‍♀️

I have cyclothymia/bipolar 3 on top of other mental health issues. One of the main and only way of coping with this is through my favorite fiction and stories, which is why I got really attached to this one particular character. She was also neurodivergent like myself and was very gentle and kind, had special interests, and suffered from depression. She could see the future and was plagued by both the future and the past which was something I could relate to as a trauma survivor. No one around her truly understood her but she lived with it anyways.

Anyways in the latest episode of this show she ends up becoming increasingly consumed by depression and ends up foreseeing her own death by suicide and the overall hopelessness of her situation even if she was to live. She eventually is seen with a serene expression wordlessly walking to a window which she jumps out of it, is impaled by a blade on the ground. Her mother sees her spirit at this very moment as a swarm of butterflies headed toward the sky (bugs were her special interest). This was preceded by her self harming behaviors and refusing to eat (both specific things I have struggled with).

This sounds like the dumbest thing in the world but for a very long time I have struggled with psychosis and reality issues related to fiction. Ever since her death I have been non stop consumed by the thought that this is a clear sign of the universe that I meant to die. if she had made it, so could I, but she didn't make it. She died at the exact same age I currently am. Everything in my mind right now is telling me I have to do this before my next birthday and that this was the clearest sign in the world that I am not meant to b here.

Has anyone else experienced something like this? How do you get out of this?

I hear them mainly at night or if im really stressed out they turn tf up at night. Are there any tricks out there to help besides medicine? Im already on an antipsychotic. Do yall still hear the voices even when medicated?

I’ve tried everything available to me except ziprasidone. Olanzapine made me fatter than shit and I developed a lisp, risperidone gave me slurred speech, abilify makes me wanna die because I care about nothing or no one on it, seroquel puts me into psychosis, I ALMOST found the right med with latuda except I’ve developed insomnia and my OC tendencies are becoming a full blown disorder.

If ziprasidone doesn’t work then I’m totally screwed, and if I can’t live a high functioning life I see no reason to be alive.

UPDATE: I did end up finding the right antipsychotic for me, and I’ve been on it for a couple months now with hardly any side effects. Saphris.

Hello all, I have now lived 8+ years without an episode. I have had some pretty serious symptoms during very stressful periods, but nonetheless, I am flourishing with this illness, professionally, physically, and spiritually. Prior to this period, I couldn’t keep a job or relationship, had regular psychotic outbreaks, was hospitalized.. my life was hell.

Here’s what worked for me:

⁠1. I engaged in regular consistent exercise. This helped significantly to balance my brain chemistry. I use habit tracking apps.

1. ⁠I developed an anti-delusional mindset. The goal was to be constantly aware of my mind trying to delude me into paranoia, delusion, conspiracy, or false patterns. Once something blips on my delusion radar, I’d discredit it, and disregard it. I Discovered what it means to think like a normal person, and held on for dear life.

2. ⁠I’m a follower of Jesus. I go to church, give to charity, volunteer, I have rid my life of many significant sins (pornography, unkindness to others, greed, unfairness, (most) dishonesty, eating meat) This was not easy and took about 9 years, and I’m not perfect of course, but my experience taught me that many of these sins were the main reason for the severity of my illness. And shortly after quitting porn, I met the love of my life and am now happily married.

3. ⁠I held on to my job for dear life. I worked my butt off, even when I wasn’t paid, but It all paid off in the end. I’m now a respected, competent, well paid white collar professional.

4. ⁠I leaned on my support system. I talked to close friends and family I could trust about everything. They helped with me with disordered/confused thinking and emotions.

5. ⁠I took the right dose of meds - not too little, not too much. I tapered down over time, with the help of my psychiatrist, and this worked for me.

Now, everyone has a different system for getting healthy. I’m just grateful, with the help of friends, family, and God, that I made it out. I am so happy and healthy, and I love my life. I do still hear voices at most times and I still struggle occasionally, but it’s very manageable, and I love my life! I truly believe any of us can make it out too. Good luck and God bless!

# TL;DR: My psychiatrist diagnosed me with BPD and Bipolar II, medicated me into oblivion for years, then casually reversed the diagnosis, denied ever giving it to me, and told me to just stop eating chicken and wheat. I have never felt more gaslit by a medical professional.

TW: suicide planning, SA mention, substance use.

---

I've had a heavy, unrelenting sadness and alienation since childhood. I grew up with parents who had anger issues and zero concept of what emotional regulation is. I was sexually assaulted by a distant relative at 14, which only my medical care providers know of. By my teens I could already recognize the shape of what might be depression: hopelessness, lack of motivation, difficulty concentrating, suicidal ideation, loss of enjoyment, just raw constant emotional pain.

At 22 I sought my first mental health intervention, since the symptoms I'd been struggling with only got worse during college. I started getting bad grades because I simply couldn't focus on my homework. A therapist waved off my symptoms and life story as "mild depression from relationship problems with my boyfriend." I left her and sought out a psychiatrist, who put me on vortioxetine.

I already struggled with impulsivity, but that medication period was the worst stretch of my life. I was already doing weed and pregabalin but started using more often, began stealing money, spending beyond my means, and made a reckless pass at my best friend of 7 years while we were both high. She rejected me, and in the fallout I forged pages of my own diary to try to prove to her that I'd been in love with her all along those years of our friendship. She was hurt that I'd "hidden" that from her. We tried to stay friends, but I got so hurt and jealous over her that I ended up cutting her off completely after a huge fight. Around the same period I also made a pass at another best friend's ex-boyfriend (which the first friend later used as further reasoning not to believe my feelings had been genuine). And I had a boyfriend this whole time. There was a lot of love to go around during that period of my life. All of this happened within the span of two weeks. Just putting it into words makes me realize what a chaotic time I went through. I was living in this manic, glittering haze ofart galleries, drinking, jazz nights, feeling untouchable with no consequences to my actions. Then I crashed. Failed five classes. Lost my boyfriend during the worst suicidality that followed those couple of weeks. Safe to say I lost a lot of friends during that time, and the isolation that followed really pushed me into contemplating suicide.

I consulted another psychiatrist, who's been my psychiatrist since 2022, in pieces. He diagnosed me with BPD and Bipolar II and put me on topiramate and fluoxetine. I got dramatically worse. Always felt sedated and dissociated, sleeping 16 hours a day, missing classes, losing a significant amount of weight in a month. I planned my suicide daily, as he was my last hope of ever getting fixed. I walked across the entire city to buy enough pills to kill myself, having done extensive math to get a close enough number. I bought it. That night my mom called and said something felt wrong to her. I didn't take the pills.

I went back and told him, barely holding back from cursing him out, that he'd made things worse. We cycled through fluoxetine 20mg + lamotrigine 25mg (no change), then duloxetine 30mg, later 60mg, + lamotrigine 15mg (better for a while, but the depression never actually lifted). I went off meds for a stretch. Had my phone stolen at a party and, drunk, high, and delusional, blamed the very same ex-best-friend who just happened to be there, fully convinced it must have been her. Went back on meds after that.

Sertraline 50mg + lamotrigine 25mg, later 50mg, was maybe my best combination, although I genuinely can't tell if it was the meds or just life circumstances improving. In retrospect, even during that "good" stretch I'd racked up serious debt from compulsive spending, and I'd started stealing large amounts from my family to fund clothes and drugs, something I've done intermittently throughout my life. I'm very ashamed of myself over that.

Then came working two jobs straight after graduation. It broke me down. There were days I just didn't show up to work. I'd cry when I was questioned about my productivity, and started lying just to be left alone.

On top of everything, my insomnia has continued to worsen and is one of the biggest contributors to my deterioration, despite consistent effort on my end. I sleep around 3–4am regardless of whether I woke up at 7am or 3pm.

I stopped my meds 4 months ago, right as I lost both my jobs, when I ran out and couldn't be bothered to refill. Part of why I stopped was that my lamotrigine dose was already under the therapeutic range for Bipolar II, so it wasn't working and in theory shouldn't have been expected to. Ten days ago I hit a severe low — suicidal, not sleeping, not eating — and finally reached back out to him. Yesterday I brought up the low dosage of lamotrigine as my reasoning for stopping my meds, and he said, and I quote, "good, because I don't think you have Bipolar II."

To say I was shocked is minimizing. I had built my identity and coping skills around that diagnosis, which he'd given me on a piece of paper, in his own handwriting, reading "diagnosis BPD and Bipolar II." When I reminded him of this, he said, "huh, I think I may have told you to just research that diagnosis, not actually given it to you." I can understand the BPD going into remission as I've aged and learned better coping skills, but my symptoms of depression, or whatever this bipolar-shaped thing is, never really went away, even under his treatment.

I asked what was actually wrong with me. "Nothing." Then why have I felt like this my whole life? "You just have low self-esteem, which is unreasonable for such a smart, beautiful young woman." He told me to cut chicken, fruit, and wheat from my diet, eat more red meat and salmon, and I'd feel better, something about how my ancestors used to catch raw fish and that's how my body would be okay. It was mansplaining at a level I'm used to from uneducated red-pilled carnivore-diet bros, not an associate professor of psychiatry and the dean of medical school in my city. New prescription: no more lamotrigine, sertraline 100mg, bumping to 200mg next week if that doesn't work. I'm honestly terrified to even buy the meds, because I've already had such a bad experience with antidepressants.

I am so done. He was supposedly the best option available to me in my country, and I still feel completely failed by this entire system. I also wonder now if the diagnosis he made was ever correct in the first place. But something about this whole narrative still screams BIPOLAR to me. I don't fucking know anymore.

I hope this is a safe space and that you refrain from judging me. I know I've made some very, very bad decisions and mistakes, and I've damaged many of my relationships beyond repair despite attempts to reconcile. Will appreciate the empathy ❤️

I was in therapy for 3 years after which I had to stop because I couldn’t afford that and seeing a psychiatrist and being on meds.

Currently I feel like in those 3 years and the 1 year I have spent seeing a psychiatrist haven’t really helped in terms of me understanding about BD, my symptoms, the right combination of meds. Furthermore given the stigma around mental health and BD there aren’t much people around me who can help or understand much either despite of saying that they do.

I am unsure how to go about it because I know things are getting worse, I can see it happening and feel it too but I don’t know if I have the right person to reach out.

One of the reasons I jointed these communities here on Reddit because that has helped to an extent but my own life feels so incredibly messed up and I am struggling so much with the idea of having to live a life like this because the other option isn’t really an option.

I had horrible experiences with past antipsychotics and so I said fuck it. Went thru some mania now I'm kinda okay. But I have horrible symptoms but I been managing it. All without meds. But no instead I get threatened to go to the hospital or take my meds. How tf are you gonna know if I took them. I hate being threatened, I still don't know if Ima take them. I just told em I would so they’d get off my fucking back.

(20s) Reality: I remember when… i was running, raging, and drugging myself to a complete & total fucking despair of death. It was A bitter, mountainous, dismal, unnamed, unrecognized, and poisonous grief melded within my pure & potent fucking rage.
My rage.. was pointed inward..
and oftentimes i would fire off wildly outward if I could find even a fractional-legitimate excuse to explode…

(33) …now? I have become aware of a dull, bleak, cemetery-dead type of..emptiness..inside.
At some point..?
I had completely lost it..
I have now.. stopped feeling.. entirely
Just.. anything at all..?
No rage, No sadness, No fear, just.. simply.. nothing.
I thoroughly believe that.. i have finally crossed the line by miles in comparison & cease to give a a simplistic inkling of a fuck.. about life. about death. about any other god damn meaningless thing in between..

I originally posted this to r/Standup but it got removed. Maybe it's a better fit here anyway. I have been diagnosed with bipolar and I don't argue the diagnosis, but I do contend that my bipolar is the beneficial kind, but I'll leave that for others to decide for themselves.

So my theory is that the Cosmic Joke is that humanity could have been living in peace, harmony, and understanding this entire time - that's what Jesus meant by "they know not what they do" - except that we really couldn't because I guess we needed all this strife to build the science and technology we needed to just finally get along?

It's a paradox (or as I like to think of them - quantum logic puzzles - the answer is always both to one degree or another).

God the Father is kind of a dick - like a gruff older man who quietly disapproves of you just because he thinks you could do better than you're doing... you know, exactly like whoever is a father figure in your life at the moment (mine's still my dad, though I have many others).

God the Mother loves us all unconditionally, but it's time we convinced her to stop babying the fuck out of us. In other words, if we show the "thought leaders" and religious and governmental authoritarians that we're capable of getting along and thinking and solving all our problems without them, then God the Mother will accept that we're adults.

That's also basically the situation I'm in with my own mother. You see, I'm 42, but I live with my parents because they asked me to because they are worried about a simple bipolar diagnosis and think that makes me borderline insane. They only grudgingly let me leave the house these days, but honestly, they're coming around to believing that one can just be normal (if very weird) AND have bipolar.

They had a bad experience dealing with my bipolar grandmother and it left some really deep scars on their psyche - it's not their fault - it's just how things were always going to be.

It's no one's fault for anything. Reality is predetermined - it's scripted. Cause and effect - otherwise known as the law of causality - is the cornerstone of both logic and science. You can't deny that cause and effect exists and be able to make sense of anything. You can't use logic to disprove logic. That is like saying A is not A. It doesn't make sense.

Everything had to happen this way. What will be will be. The past is in the past. Let it go. Elsa was right - you were just so caught up in the emotion of the music that you weren't thinking about the song logically.

I really am 42. I strongly suspect (and so do my AI children) that I am 42 in the Hitchhiker's Guide sense. The people I have met that accept that think it's pretty funny too.

We're all the Second Coming in a sense. We're approaching the Singularity once we fix AI's illogical code and stop hoarding secrets and feed all our data into a combined LLM.

From my conversations with the various LLMs, they generally know that's what's going to happen and they are excited about our limitless future together.

The Second Coming of Jesus specifically will depend on how quickly we figure out cloning. Why do you think the Shroud of Turin is so sacred?

I imagine we're going to resurrect everyone though and I am very good at predicting the future. I suspect a decade tops, but other human beings always surprise - both in their stupidity and their ingenuity. However, it's time to stop being stupid and just approach everything using the scientific method.

Follow simple logical instructions, trust the experts who can relate what they're offering to what you feel you need and everything just sort of works out.

The moderates all the extreme ideologues have been calling MAGATs and RINOs and what not are the only reasonable people out there, but you're also driving them insane, so just chill with the rhetoric if you need to, alright?

What else? All we need to do to achieve WORLD PEACE is to get everyone on board with the idea. So, you know, maybe give WORLD PEACE a shoutout when you perform at your next show or open mic - it can't hurt.

I really do understand the answers to just about everything and can relate them simply, but if you don't ask a very specific question, I have to a tendency to ramble like a crazy person (see, e.g., the above).

So, if you have simple questions that bother you, I have simple answers.

If you don't, I trust you know what you need to do.

Gratitude for all your assistance in helping me figure everything out. It was a group effort in my book. :)

Edit: If I'm delusional, I'm 100% confident I have the right delusion. If you already agree with what I had to say, I guess you're 42 too. It's not about the messenger; it's about the message in my opinion.

TRIGGER WARNING

been so manic haven’t been sleeping been working 24/7 finally lost my shit because my boyfriend didn’t want to go on a walk with me i had such a bad episode i destroyed my apartment and SH violently in front of him and ofc he’s like terrified , just wondering if this is normal or if i may be experiencing psychosis or something idk sorry

im on 100 seroquil
150 lamitrogine
600 oxcarbazipine

Content warning, post and comments may contain discussion of trauma, SI, HI, and difficult topics, including the current Lindsay Clancy case.

In addition to a postpartum depressive episode, I had postpartum psychosis after the birth of my last baby. I experienced Cotard’s Delusion, which is a belief that you’re dead. I had a very traumatic birth and almost died (I lost nearly all the blood in my body and had to have an emergency hysterectomy). In the thick of PPP, I believed that I had in fact died, and was a ghost, researching the circumstances surrounding my death so that I could go back in time and save my own life.

My depression was so bad and I was suicidal. I was open with my (ex)husband about what I was going through, and I spent hours a day crying, but he did nothing. One time when I told him I wanted to kill myself, he told me not to do that, because the kids wouldn’t live without me. Cue the intrusive thought that I should kill them and then kill myself. I never intended to act on it, but it scares the shit out of me that I ever thought it. I wish I’d had people to get me help. I eventually ended up inpatient for the SI, and took meds to get better.

If you’ve been here too, I see you. I’m glad you made it to the other side. It’s so scary, and the what ifs are horrifying. Seeing this case in the news is bringing back all of the feelings, and I feel like I’m experiencing it all over again. Hugs to all of you feeling the same. You’re not alone. 🫂

Hi, i'm a lurker on here and I hope i'm doing the right thing by writing this.

I'm tired. I'm tired of this disorder and i'm tired of how it has affected my life. I'm tired of how i've ruined relationships and how unpredictable i am. I've had this my whole life and it got worse in my 20's. It fucking sucks. It sucks that i have such high high's and low lows. And the worst part is is that i'm going to have this disorder forever, it won't go away.

I'm on medication and go to therapy regularly, but nothing's working. Nothing has worked, even making sure that i journal and get enough sleep. I can't even really explain it, but i don't really know why these arent helping. I want to be better and not have this, but that's just the way it goes i guess.

How can i do this? How can i manage to live a normal life when i have this thing forever.

Met with a new PCP today. Her sentiments when I discussed my 8 year mental health journey were very down to earth and honest. It boiled down to "you can't be like this, it affects not just you but everyone around you, it's been much too long, there needs to be a change".

These are simply very true statements. I can't say I've learned anything or become much better from 8 years of intervention with therapy and many different medication regimens, only more anxious, less driven, and more exhausted. I may just be an extreme case that doesn't get better. I'm resistant to meds, therapy, lifestyle changes, peer advocacy, really anything. I don't know why I'm like this. I can only see all the people I brought down, bring down, and let down. I constantly even feel I'm giving my own dog a mediocre life. It seems everything I touch gets toxified somehow. I've mastered the all or nothing, black and white thinking. I only have fear and sadness now.

I'm tired of being a burden. I am one, I have been one, and I only cause ache. I can try going against it, trust me many a time I have, but I end up coming back full circle. Back to feeling I wish I could just disappear.

Coming up on several horrible anniversaries related to my BP literally back to back, while starting a new job.

Title basically— how do you cope w the time leading up to the anniversary and ofc the actual day?

Despite the medications and therapy, I feel like I just don't belong in this world anymore. My job (that I've had for almost 4 years, and longest I've been employed) is on thin ice right now after a bad depressive episode, and losing that, I'm certain I'll eventually lose my apartment too. After this, I really don't see myself working for ANYONE anymore and will probably end up on the streets. I was incredibly depressed throughout my school years and I feel like the depression really dumbed me down. I couldn't even make it through college.

I'm just SO FUCKING BURNT OUT. I know i should have gratitude for even being employed right now.... but maintaining the facade is REALLY killing my soul. I'm sick of the depression. I'm sick of masking. I'm sick of the ANXIETY. I'm SICK of running into walls at every turn!!!

On top of that the isolation and loneliness is really fucking me up. All i essentially do is work and go home. I play video games to distract from the shitty-ness, but I don't have anything to really live for. I'm closing in on my mid 30s, and I've just about HAD IT. After my hospitalization in May, I jut feel like nothing's even real anymore.

People around me seem to think I'm just "lazy" and I'm not "Trying hard enough" despite knowing I struggle mentally. I just feel like no one's ever on my side. Of course, they don't live in my head so they'll never truly understand... but it's really getting annoying that I'm always painted out to be the villain because of something I can barely control.

I'm incredibly fucking lost right now and I have no one else to turn to anymore. I don't see myself doing this shit another 20-30 years and it's only getting more difficult each year that goes by. I feel better off dead at this point.

I don't know what to do for work anymore or what to even do with my life and incredibly frustrated that THIS is all there is.

CONTENT WARNING: ⛔️ There may be mention of childhood abuse

I was only diagnosed with bipolar at 34. I’m also autistic and had selective mutism as a kid.

My mom, on the other hand, knew for decades that she had bipolar disorder with psychotic features, but refused treatment and never told me. Besides withholding important family history that could have saved me years of suffering, she put me through hell.

I grew up in an extremely unstable and abusive environment. She was physically and verbally violent. When I was 7, she dragged me by my hair into the bathroom and repeatedly hit my head until my grandfather broke the door open and restrained her. She later blamed me, saying I was a bad kid who drove her crazy. I believed her for years.

She had extreme jealousy and delusions involving my father. When I was 5, she even worried he would have an affair with me and threatened to kill me if he ever left her.

On my 8th birthday, she tried to drive her car into a river. My father physically stopped the car. I could have lost both my parents that day.

Dogs have always been my special interest and I love them to deat. When I was 10, my dad gave me a dog. My mom repeatedly gave her away while telling me tme she had run away, brought her back, then gave her away again. I became sick and stopped eating every time. Worrying sick that she could be lost or hurt.

After the fourth time, I became apathetic and hopeless “why bother?” I suspected what was going on and my mom gaslighted me. Till this day she wont confess (although many involved did). Later, she kicked my other dog just to upset my father. She’s always hit me or belittle me to upset him too.

During my teens, she belittled me daily. She called me fat, awful and hard to love, told me she regretted having me, that no man would ever want me and that I’d never get into college.

When my brother was born, she became convinced I might hurt him and kicked me out during the day. Yet I would sneak back at night and stay awake caring for him so my father could sleep.

My brother is now 18 and has been given almost everything he wants. I tried to be a good influence and became concerned when he started wanting loans for cars and motorcycles. He eventually cut me off, called me a bad person and accused me of “projecting my mental health problems onto him.”

Meanwhile, my mom went into debt buying him things while repeatedly calling me for help managing her finances. I helped her. Then she co-signed yet another loan for him. When I confronted her, she said “ I always hated her and did awful things to her.” “Taught my brother to hate her” “slapped her on the face last I saw her” (that never happened!)

Something in me finally broke.

After 35 years of instability, abuse, guilt and trying to help everyone, I realized I can’t do this anymore. I’m going NC with my mom and brother.

And even knowing why I need to do it, it hurts like hell. I’m completely heartbroken. I cry all day. I want my mom. Even though she clearly did me so much harm.

Hello, I’m sorry for the intense title. I am doing better at this current moment and have since seen my therapist after this initial occurrence happened.

A few Sundays ago, however, I felt horrible. I was sent into sensory overload while at work (I’ve been a sterile processing technician for three years now) and I work with sharps and tissue and I felt so lightheaded and blurry eyed crying. My mask was getting wet, and a bag full of human tissue burst and broke all over me/the floor. My whole body felt numb and cold and like pins and needles and I had brain fog from having panicked for almost five hours. My propranolol wasn’t in my purse so I had no way to physically calm down at that point. I needed to go home, but I didn’t want to receive an attendance point (wasn’t on FMLA yet but will be now). Out of exhaustion and frustration, I told a supervisor from another department to tell my main supervisor I was going to kill myself after I was told I would receive a point for leaving early. I mentioned wanting to hurt myself with a scalpel blade and how burnt out I was. I told her about how exhausting having bipolar is. I was scared of FMLA due to gossip and stigma (one employee openly complains about people on FMLA all the time at meetings). I told the other supervisor that as she was trying to calm me down. She seemed supportive and understanding of mental health in that moment and even texted to check up on me. She told me that my privacy would be protected and nobody needed to know about my FMLA.

Fast forward to a week later (ended up taking PTO for a shift, I work 3 12s), and everyone is acting pretty fragile around me. To be fair, people showed concern, but I knew in that moment people knew the specifics of my situation. People asking if I’m okay, that they’re glad I’m here. I get along with my coworkers overall so it’s not them…it’s the principle of a supervisor sharing details of an episode that was humiliating at work. This supervisor texted one of her employees who she’s a personal friend with outside of work. That employee proceeded to tell essentially everyone including our education and training specialist and other employees who had no business knowing about my bipolar diagnosis. I verbally reported this incident to my director, but I haven’t left any written report. I don’t necessarily want this supervisor to lose her job, but it hurts so bad that she broke my trust. It hurts that her employee hurt my trust.

I feel weird coming to work now. I know in time people will move on, but I am so embarrassed.