Hi. Let me start off by giving you a little background on my situation. I am a 31 year old female, who has suffered from depression since I was about 19. Thanks to my mom, who has suffered from various types of depression since she was about the same age, we were able to recognize the symptoms and get me treatment. When I reached 29 years of age, I escalated into Bipolar/Manic depression and Anxiety. In my family, this is hereditary, and runs on my mother's side of the family. It effects nearly all the females, and a few males. We all start out with being "regular" depressants, and we all slide into the Bipolar/Manic stage/Anxiety at about 29 years of age. Weird, I know, but all the medical records for the family show the same cycles.

I didn't realize I had come into the "next phase" of this disorder until the day I had my first anxiety attack. I was at work, and everything felt like it was closing in on me. I couldn't handle people walking behind me, moving my chair just a hair as they went by (there was really not much aisle space) and when someone needed to touch my shoulder/arm to get my attention I wanted to scream. I went to my Dr, and we did a Depression Screening Test and found out I had worsened. I was told to go on leave, tried some medications to help, and took things from there. 7 weeks later I went back to work feeling great. For a week, all was well, and then one day I started having what I call "Death Obsession" thoughts. I would think about what would happen if I got into a car accident on my way to work and all the injuries that could happen, if I could recover from them depending on their severity, what would happen to my family if the accident was fatal, and just about every other morbid detail you can imagine. It wasn't just while driving. I would think that I could get hit by a car in our work parking lot and what could happen, someone walking by me with a screw driver (I assembled eye glasses) and they could trip and fall and puncture me in the neck...you get the idea. No thought was safe. I left at lunch that day and my Dr put me on another leave from work. A couple weeks later my husband said I should just stop working and stay home to take care of our family of 5 (we have 3 girls). I accepted and began the life of a homemaker.

I started seeing a psychiatrist, and she kept me on the same medications my physician had assigned to me because they were a good combination. I proceeded to see her every month for about a year. At the end of my 1 year mark, I went to the appointment and she asked how I was doing. Things had gotten a little better, but I was still not where she thought I should be. She wouldn't change any medications or try anything else because "what I was on should be working." I will add here that I also had sleeping problems, and the medication she prescribed me (technically an anti-psychotic) was supposed to help by brain "shut down" at night so I wouldn't have racing thoughts. It was supposed to work within 30 minutes. It didn't. The first night I took them I was still awake 5 hours later, finally went to bed, and still didn't fall asleep for another hour. By that time I think it was only from exhaustion, but I'm not sure. At an appointment 5 months ago, she asked again how I was doing, and when I told her things were still about the same, she accused me of trying to keep myself sick so I could persue collecting Social Security. I was floored. I told her (in not a very calm voice) that I didn't want to be sick, hated not being able to spend time with friends without staying in their houses, couldn't work, couldn't handle crowds, couldn't shop at the grocery store because I couldn't handle people being too close to me (any closer than 5 feet away and my anxiety would kick in...), couldn't cuddle/give hugs and kisses to my kids whenever they wanted them because they were in my "bubble" and didn't like having a normal relationship with my husband (our sex life is pretty much existent, and it never used to be like that). Who wants that life???

At this point I realized there was probably nothing my my psychiatrist could do for me, and proceeded to look for someone else. I called my clinic and asked if I could see someone else there, and they said that my previous Dr would be consulted with my new Dr, and they all worked closely, and generally had the same opinions on treatment. That didn't sound promising. PLUS, they were in the process of re-shuffling about 500 patients be cause one of their Dr's had retired.

I called my insurance company, and asked for a list of clinics in my area that would be accepted by my insurance. there are 3 in my area that are not an hour or more away. The first two I called said they were not taking new patients, and the third said they would only take me as a patient if I chose them as their primary care clinic (I was told about a month later by my physician that that is illegal, but she said that they would probably use another excuse for not accepting me. She had seen it done before). I was not going to change from the Dr's I had been seeing for 20 years, who knew me and my family's history for mental health. I am at a loss. I can't afford to drive an hour or more to see someone.

I started seeing a counselor about 3 months after I was getting treatment for my disorder. It was only because I was having strong thoughts of suicide and went to a crisis center for a weekend. They got me in with someone right away because they were a part of the clinic I went to already. I had already seen a different counselor the previous summer, and it hadn't gone well. She didn't know how to help me cope with my issues because she insisted that I use the breathing techniques she "taught" as a coping method. I had explained to her that I already knew those techniques and they didn't help me. I refused to pay for appointments that were not going to help me. My new counselor was made aware of my previous experience right away, and asked if I had used the counting technique. Yet again, I had been using it for over 10 years, and it wasn't something that worked for me. So we started off with her getting to know me, asking about what it was like growing up, my life after high school, my previous marriage, my college experience, my second marriage and life at this time. I was comfortable with her and thought things would go well. At our 2nd meeting we talked about my disorders. She asked how I felt with having them, what would trigger my anxiety, how my family seemed to cope with it, and those types of questions. At my 3rd appointment, she asked what I wanted out of these sessions. I explained I wanted to live a "normal" life, and she suggested a therapy group that might help. Unfortunately, they met once a week. I told her I couldn't afford to do that. It would cost me an extra $150 a month, and we barely had the money to get by as it was. She explained the benefits of the group, and reaffirmed her thoughts that it would be very beneficial to me. I again explained that as much as I would love to, unless I fell under a special "financial hardship" policy, it would be impossible for me to do. She ended the session with "If you aren't willing to give this a try, I don't know how much help I will be to you." Another Dr gone.

I will admit that after that I haven't tried to hard to find another counselor, even though I know I should. It is something I will get to "eventually."

Fortunately, my husband had my parents to help him understand all the issues/signs/complications that can come with having a loved one suffering from these mental illnesses. At first, he thought I was just being lazy when I would wake up, get the kids off to school, get a "little" housework done and then want to lay down and take a nap. he couldn't understand why I couldn't be around people I didn't know yet, or want to hang out with our family (we would get together about every other weekend, and I used to look forward to it). Even with not having to go to work, I didn't keep up on the housework. I would pretty much park myself on the couch and read. Then it turned into watching a tv series as much as I could during the day. Then it turned into sitting in the tub for hours on end (see where the Manic part of depression was kicking in?) Then one night my husband watched a documentary on the effects of Bipolar depression, both for the sufferer and the family and friends around them. He said he never understood how it worked before that, and apologized. Then he said if I ever start having suicidal thoughts or if things seem like they are getting bad again to tell him right away. I cried. He finally understood. The only real support I had had at that point was my mom and dad. They knew about everything that I had been going through, from A-Z. My siblings knew a little about it, but knew more as it either happened to them or had to help mom and dad deal with one of mom's cycles (She is also Bipolar/Manic). I am very thankful for my support system. I only wish I could explain to my kids why Mommy can't cuddle with you, or doesn't want to give you a hug or kiss. They know I have a "bubble," but don't know why.

My interests would change about every 3 months. At one point I was convinced we should buy a house. I researched homes in my area, checked our credit report to see what our scores were, estimated how much a mortgage would be and how it would fit into our budget (this was before I stopped working) and how far away it would be from my family. Then it was buying a car. We needed something at the time, and it was weighing on my mind. I called all the car dealerships in town to find out if they offered financing for lower credit scores, how much that vehicle I saw online was, what kind of warranties did they come with, ect. Then it was motorcycles. I wanted to ride. I got my learner's permit, safety gear (helmet and leathers) and even a good bike to learn on. However, it wouldn't stay running. My dad, a friend and a repair shop looked at it, and thought it was the carbs. The carbs were cleaned and it still wouldn't work. They were replaced and it still wouldn't run right. Then they checked the wiring and couldn't find anything wrong. By this point, the urge had passed. This sort of thing keeps happening, and I never know what the next "obsession" is going to be.

As I mentioned before, we live on a tight budget. I used to spend money however I wanted, even after I stopped working. Then. last summer, my parents offered to sell us their house and half their land. We were thrilled! We talked about a payment amount, and after reviewing finances, it was agreed that the "mortgage" would be $750/month. I know how amazing that sounds! However, we only have $2,000 for bills every month. We needed to get a propane tank too, and were looking at having higher electric costs because of the difference in house sizes. I had to crack down and form a budget. So far, I have been doing well. Bills do get paid, and we have only had one issue where I had to reconfigure the budget for the next couple of months because our car died and we needed to get a new one. One week's budget went to the down payment. That sucked to figure out how to make up on those bills, especially since my husband had been laid off for two weeks and only qualified for unemployment for one of the weeks. I am happy to say, that all that is caught up. And as a thank you for doing so well with the budget, my husband gave me some money to spend on myself. It took me a week to figure out what to do with it, because right away I wanted to go and buy socks for the family, underware for the girls (they keep loosing theirs :-\ ) and other things we needed. However, the rule for this money was that I spend it on ME. I finally decided on a mommy-daughter date with my mom, and we went out for an afternoon. One point to me

I wish I could find ways to do more for my kids, buy more than milk, eggs, bread and cheese most of the time I do my grocery shopping (we generally only have $20-$30 each week after bills get paid) and give my husband more opportunities to do the things he likes. But we just don't have it. This weighs me down heavily and makes me feel like a failure. I know I'm not one, but can't help feeling like it.

So there it is. My "life's story" with what has happened since advancing my level of mental illness. Does anyone else go through anything like this? I know we all experience different things, and are affected in different ways, but this seems like as good as it's going to get for treating my illness (I am still seeing the same psychiatrist because I still need treatment. Every month I call the other psychiatrist clinics to see if they have any openings, and they don't. I have even asked about a waiting list, and they put me on one but still have not called).

If there is anything you can share that you feel might help, I would really appreciate it. I am open to any suggestions, as long as they are reasonable.

I hope anyone reading this knows they are not alone. It is a struggle for all of us. We need to stick together to get through it.