Hello all.

I'm not about to post my name on a public Forum so "LDB" will have to do. I really dont know what I'm expecting from this but since there are no Bipolar groups near me I thought maybe an online forum would help by putting me in contact with others who share this illness.

My journey started at 12 with my first (of 4) suicide attempt. Drug overdose. Got me locked up in the local psychiatric ward for two weeks. I have no idea what conclusion they came up with then, since no one bothered to tell me. I suspect they diagnosed me with depression. Which, I suspect, my parents promptly ignored. I'm sure they thought a bit more abuse would fix me right up. And yes, I was abused in every way.

We moved a lot, my Stepfather being chronically unable to either hold a job or stay in one place. When I was 14 we landed in Wyoming, where the first manic episode I can positively identify had me walking up the middle of Grand Avenue, drunk and stoned, and trying to get a car to hit me. I really dont remember much of it or the next few weeks but I've been told I was quite entertaining for a 2 or 3 week period.

That landed me in a 6 month program designed to help troubled teens and reintegrate them with their families. Except I was there for 3 years since my family had the sudden urge to move out of state ( I later found out they went to Maine.) since my juvenile record was so bad, and I wasnt exactly the sweetest kid you ever met, finding foster care for me was, to say the least, difficult. And didnt happen till I was 17.

I continued to self medicate on thru into my 20's. somewhere around 24 or so I seem to have gained a bit of control over myself, at least enough to be able hold a job. But not enough to stay out of debt (My spending in a manic state is truly terrifying) or to have a peaceful marriage. I believe the only reason my marriage lasted so long is that my chosen profession kept me away from home 11 months out of the year. My life always seemed to be in a state of chaos. And you you could usually trace the problem back to some horrific act or decision I had made, though you would never have gotten me to admit that then. As I look back on it all I can say is my life to date has consisted of limping away from one train wreck, only to step right back on the tracks and getting run over again.

Over the years I quit the drugs (mostly pot) because I realized they never made me feel any better. I immersed myself in my work and actually had my own business for about 5 years.

Until the economy tanked in 2010. For a period of about a year, I was under stress. Not just a little. A LOT. Chest pains, arrhythmia, massive weight loss. loss of sleep. Because I was slowly losing my business. I could see a little more drain away each day. In the end I gave up. Nothing I did was saving it. And fell into what was then, the deepest depression I had been in to date. And when my ex-wife found me holding my cherished Kimber 1911 .45 to my head, and had to talk for 4 hours just to get me to put it down, she naturally insisted that I get some help. I agreed reluctantly and went to the local counseling center with her where I spoke to a Case manager once a week and a Psychiatrist once a month so he could prescribe the anti-depressants that did absolutely nothing for me. The entire thing was a complete waste of time and, yet again, it was me derailing the train. I lied. About everything. I told them I felt great. Told them the meds were working and after about 6 months quit going. Though I continued with the meds (My GP kept prescribing them) to make the wife happy. All they really did was throw me into several manic episodes which as you can guess, led to more and more train wrecks.

Trying to make a way to long post a bit shorter, I'll condense the last 5 years into as short a read as possible.

Lost the business.
Lost the money.
Lost the wife.
Lost the house.

In 5 short years I went from owning my own successful business, being married (albeit not necessarily happily) ,owning my own home to living in my daughters basement, doing manual labor and living paycheck to paycheck.

I know others have fallen farther, but I was lucky in that I have a kiddo that wont give up on me. even so, This year I have tested her patience with yet another suicide attempt, only this time, the kiddo didnt screw around, She got the cops involved, who, quickly, determined that I was a danger to myself and 381'ed me. A 381 is an involuntary 72 hour hold here. they took me to a privately run hospital here that specializes in acute mental care. They took me off all my meds and just watched me. Apparently I was pretty entertaining again because I found myself there for a much longer stay then just 72 hours.

Again, trying to be brief, my diagnosis came out to be Bipolar1 with mixed affective episodes and psychotic features (auditory and visual hallucinations, Dont need to get into that here). Generalized anxiety disorder, PTSD and, of all things, Obsessive compulsive disorder. I feel like I got the whole menu sometimes.

They have me on Seroquel XR. A lot of it, and a few other meds thrown in just to keep me a bit calmer since my blood pressure seems to go dangerously high if I get too worked up. And I feel..........almost normal for the first time in my life. At least I'm not as symptomatic as I have been since I can remember. My Daughter says I'm a completely different person than the one she grew up with.

Its come with some downsides though, the few friends I had seem to be avoiding me like the plague. I think they might be afraid that I'm contagious. They might "catch" BP from me or something. But thats ok, they'll come around or they wont. I'm done hiding what I am, because the only person I ever truly hid it from was me, everyone else always knew there was something wrong, I was the only blind one. Unfortunately I wasnt the only one hurt.

I'll do what it takes to stay where I'm at now, stable. I'm done with train wrecks.