I"m sorry to double post but I am still shaken up by that and when my husband asked me to go to England with him because his mother was dying, I just felt like he was asking so much of me I wasn't going to be able to handle it.

I love my husband and I wanted to support him but I felt like someone was reaching down my throat and grabbing my insides and trying to turn me inside out. I knew I really had no choice. So, I simply kept putting one foot in front of another each day and somehow made it through.

The trip was terribly stressful. In a quiet moment one day, I said, God, what am I gonna do? I looked down and in my purse was the diazapam. My script was written for up to 3 a day (5mg). I hardly ever took that many. The word "calm" came into my head. So, I made use of the meds. It helped. It was still hard dealing with everything.

I love my husband dearly but when he is stressed, he becomes the most unreasonable person and loves to share his pain.

Our accommodations in England were really bad and his family is difficult to deal with. So there was stressor after stressor. My anxiety and startle response got worse while there.

What made things worse was my husband had told his entire family that I was bipolar and I simply kept feeling like they were looking at me like some sort of freak. I HATE THAT! No one gives a crap about knowing what it really is, either. They can't stop talking about their second homes in Spain and Cypress long enough to care.

Sorry. I'm simply a nervous wreck right now. It all started with this idiot doctor laughing at my diagnosis. I guess I'm still angry about it. Thanks for listening.