Hi all.

My name is Laura, and these days I hardly recognize myself. I've never posted in a forum like this, and I don't know where else to turn right now.

A bit of history: I've been fighting tooth and nail against depression/anxiety/bipolar disorder on and off for the past 13 years. When I was first diagnosed with bipolar disorder at age 19 I refused to accept that I could possibly have a lifelong, highly stigmatized illness, so I refused treatment for the next four years. It didn't matter that four different psychiatrists told me I had bipolar disorder. It COULDN'T be true! Somehow I managed to graduate from college, study abroad, and work, despite deep depressions that lasted up to eight months. During my fourth episode, my depression broke my mother down. She couldn't stand to see me in so much pain any longer. I told myself then and there that I'd do everything it takes to make sure I didn't make her (or anyone else who loves me) cry again. I went to see a psychiatrist and took Lamictal for four years. Life moved along. Eventually I decided that maybe I didn't have bipolar disorder after all. Maybe all of it was just a result of being an irresponsible, partying, substance-abusing college kid. So I went off my meds, and my psychiatrist did not resist my decision. Afterward I experienced periodic lows (occurring every winter) and lots of episodes of anxiety, but nothing severe enough that I couldn't fight through alone or with the help of a primary care physician.

Fast forward five years to the present: I need to get treatment for my bipolar disorder again. Three months ago I began to slip into what is now the deepest depression I've experienced in nearly ten years. I began a relationship with an amazing man nine months ago, and I am very much afraid of losing him to the depression before I have enough time to get better. He wants to support me but does not know how. He feels unwanted, unloved, and wonders where the woman he fell in love with went (and if she's ever coming back). Seeing him in pain and knowing I'm the cause makes dealing with my already nightmare-ish depression even more difficult. I'd rather endure it alone than know I'm dragging someone along for the ride.

A couple weeks ago I saw a new psychiatrist. He made no diagnosis, ordered me to stop all medication (my primary doctor had me on Celexa and Buspar) so that he could see what I'm "really like", and told me to come back in a month. I have just called his office to see if I can come in sooner, as I feel the longer this drags out without hope or answers, the more likely I am to lose my relationship and possibly even my job (I work full-time and find it all but impossible to be productive at the office).

I am so afraid he won't be able to help, or that he'll deny that I have bipolar disorder to begin with. I'm so afraid that when I am finally treated, it will take months on end for me to feel better. I don't want to go on like this another day.

I miss feeling connected. I miss my boyfriend. I miss my friends. I miss my family. I especially miss me.

-Laura