So I'm recovering from my last manic phase, and I'm at a loss. Let me explain...

I was stable for close to two years on Lithium and Abilify. I was tracking my moods, seeing a therapist regularly, and doing a great job of coping with my illness. I was hired by a great company in June of last year and things have been going well.

I wanted specialized treatment, so I started seeing a psychiatric NP who was prescribing my meds. Because of the risk of liver damage, she wanted to get me away from taking 1800mg of Lithium a day (that was my maintenance dosage, and it's the recommended dosage for mania apparently.) So we started playing with my meds, and I slowly came off of the lithium. I was still taking abilify, and was still fairly stable. Then one day I got a letter in the mail...

I think that this may have been one of the catalysts that sent me over the edge. It said that she was leaving her practice and that I had to find another prescriber. I felt abandoned. Throughout my course of treatment, I've been through 3 therapists and about 10 doctors. It seems like every time I get comfortable with someone, they leave. I think it's also worth mentioning that I've lost most of my close friends because of this illness.

I live in a small state and many of the outpatient psychiatric clinics aren't accepting new patients, so I turned to my Primary Care Provider for medication management. She took me off of my meds completely. I keep telling myself that I should've known better...the medication is what was keeping me stable. But I listened. I was, after all, feeling stable. I stopped taking everything, foolishly thinking that maybe I could be normal for the first time in my life.

So after about two weeks of being completely free of medication, I started showing symptoms of mania. I wasn't sleeping well. I was agitated and restless. I had a constant urge to go somewhere. I became a compulsive shopper. My boyfriend and I were in the midst of moving into our own apartment and I became obsessed with furnishing the place. On March 1st, we moved into our new home. He handed me his half of the rent money. Big mistake...

I hid my compulsion to spend money from everyone around me. I missed an appointment with my therapist and didn't call to reschedule. I get paid a fair amount of money each week, and I was almost always broke. I can't tell you where I spent this money, because I don't really know. I've gone through close to $5,000 in the past three weeks and I can account for maybe $500 of it.

So the fit hit the shan when the landlord called asking where rent was. I tried to cover it up, but the truth finally came out. I didn't have it. I spent it, all of it. My boyfriend is at a loss. He doesn't understand. I'm at a loss, because I can't explain it, either.

I told my mother what had happened. She's always been my #1 support. She asked me if I was going to "blame this on the bipolar"...and I lost it. I have a hard time with this diagnosis as it is...and to hear my #1 support ask me such a question turned my stomach.

I spent all day saturday crying in bed. I felt hopeless, helpless and completely alone. I wrote a suicide note. I texted my best friend (who has been aware of the entire situation) "I wrote a note. It's in my phone." and all she said was "good." The only reason I'm still here to write this is because I couldn't pick my poison.

I haven't told anyone that yet...I can hear the strained sighs when I reach out for help...I feel like nothing more than a bother anytime I need to talk to someone. So I just keep to myself for the most part. I stay quiet on the outside, when on the inside I'm screaming "SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME!"

So that leads me to where I am now. My work keeps me busy, but I feel like it's only a matter of time before I stop showing up. I've reconnected with my therapist, and I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow with yet another new provider. I'm working on getting back on track, but I'm so sick of doing this over and over again.

Sorry this post is so long, I just needed to share...to vent in a place where there's a chance that someone just might understand.