Overall my family life was pretty good. Standard parenting from the 50's 60's from emotionally repressed parents. Which was why I never told them about the neighbor who groomed and then abused me. I was 9 the first time I seriously considered Sui, was afraid my mother would kill me if I killed myself( I don't think I really understood what death was, although I can remember the incident very vividly.

The trauma manifested physically I got sent to the mayo clinic for tons of tests. I never told anyone what the real problem was. Mostly I got told a lot that "this wasn't going to hurt" and " drink this it tastes good" all lies. No one there ever actually talked to me, just over me. Was diagnosed with an ulcer, serious migraines and possible seizure disorder got put on anti seizure meds and told they would take away the migraines, after a few months I threw them away and decided all doctors do is lie. Found out years later that they had wanted me to see a psychiatrist but my father didn't believe in them

In high school had a break with reality too afraid to tell anyone. T's disagree if it was dissociation or psychic. In collage was standing on a bridge when a cop stopped me, went to the campus clinic was told I could change my feeling of depression by thinking happy thoughts, never went back.

A co-worker recommended a therapy clinic went and took their MMPI test, the therapist came in looked at me, looked at the test and said the test showed I should be hospitalized immediately but I looked so together it was hard to tell I was the one who took the test, talked my way out of it and never went back.

Fast forward to 23 got married to an abusive man. Was in ER for umpteenth time from dear hubby's loving embrace. Was given a psychologist name. Because I couldn't work for a few weeks decided to see him. Put me on antidepressants and I then tried to off myself with the help of many pills and my husbands stash of drugs. Was in ICU for 3 days then transferred to the nut ward. Diagnosed with PTSD and MDD.

A couple years of merry-go-round rides in and out of psych wards they started adding mood stabilizers and lithium, told me I was bipolar. Eventually committed to state hospital then ran away. Homeless and lived in various states committed again in different state. Got better follow up care. Started working again, hubby showed up. Cycled down, ended up in woman's shelters was able to get section 8 which gave me a stable safe home and is probably one of the most important parts of my recovery. three very good therapists later I'm accepting that yes I've BP and the PTSD is I under control.