I have been a long time lurker of this forum, first time posting.

I am 30 and literally lost everything over the course of this year.

About 4 years ago, I was having a fun life in my mid 20s - I had a full time job (but I was always on the bench as a consultant), but then I had my first manic episode. I went to work and thought I was invited to a meeting with the head of the company and kept talking. I was driving to Houston for some reason to visit a friend and was throwing my clothes out the window. I also ended up pulling over at a gas station- freaking out a bit in front of the attendant. I got picked up by a cop and it was my first hospitalization. Did I mention my dog was in the car and she was put into a shelter? Luckily my mom got her and got me out within a week or so. All the while, I no longer had a job.

Still manic I ended up driving to Oklahoma again with my dog. I ended up kind of trashing a hotel room, cutting all my beautiful hair off, and once again, getting put into an institution while my dog was put in a shelter. I spent a few weeks in the psych ward where I finally settled down from my mania and my dog got picked up by my best friend. I guess in my mania... I feel like I have to take off and my most important thing to take with me is my love, my dog. And I was very grateful to get her back after my first long manic episode.

Before this, I was abusing Zoloft and although I sought mental health professionals after the episode, I didn't truly believe this incident would have happened if it wasn't for the Zoloft. Therefore, I didn't seek regular therapy or meds as a few months after living with my mom and brother in a two bedroom apartment, I got a contract job at a big bank that turned into a full time position. I moved out, had my dog, had a job working from home paying well, and just enjoying my friends again. I thought this nightmare was over and it was the zoloft's fault not me being bipolar.

Fast forward to last year December and I got laid off after getting a promotion to a new group (btw if I had stayed with my old team I would still have a job). After four months of unemployment I end up getting pretty much my dream job. I ended up traveling to Hawaii and New Zealand to celebrate the end of my unemployment, not manic and truly enjoying life and then I came back and was being successful at my new job. But after a stressful weekend, I went to work and I thought my coworker was telling me to just leave so I did. I ended up staying up all night writing a manifesto for the U.S. Government. I also ended up coming up to work for a community project with high schoolers and just leaving afterwards again. In the end, it was my mother who had to return my work laptop and badge.

I asked my neighbor to take my dog (thank goodness for this time) and my best friend and my mom came and got me. They knew I was in trouble. I got checked into a mental health living facility and was still manic when I left. I ended up getting dropped off at a homeless shelter (I'm still not quite sure why) and then again got checked into a psych ward. Still being manic, I went to my mom and stepdad's place and took off and went to a friend's.

I ended up taking off on a plane this time to go to Michigan to visit my ex boyfriends hometown to see where he was from (I don't know why I thought this was a good idea) and then I went to New York City and lost a suitcase full of my good clothes because I didn't have the time to wait at the airport at the carousel- I had to go. I remember choosing NY because a former love interest was living there.

I spent a ridiculous amount of money, didn't sleep at all, got into some precarious position with two men, and ended up getting checked into a psych ward again- this time I walked into the hospital telling them I just wanted to get some sleep.

This time was the time I truly recognized I was bipolar I and on my greyhound ride from New York to Texas, I recognized that I lost my dream job, my dream apartment, a great life full of friends and constant plans and traveling, and eventually settled in the idea of losing my love, my dog.

Now 6 months later but really looks like 11 months on my resume, I can't find a job, I applied for disability, and I am living with my aunt in a one bedroom apartment and I'm not sure if I will be able to figure out my life- as I will need to support myself sooner than later. I am grateful to not be on the streets. I don't really know why I wrote this... I just miss my old life ... My dog... My ex... My stable jobs, no credit card debt and after interviewing at a job that pays nothing with a lot of physical work which may end up just seasonal, I truly recognize bipolar has truly taken everything away from me.

Now I am constantly looking for a job (anything at this point because my confidence much like my waist line and my hair has gone to crap during this time - thank you medication). I sleep in just to make the days go by faster and although I try to workout, I just am not that motivated.

What's your true story and did anyone really figure out how to dig themselves out of something as dire as mine? From riches to rags - that's my bipolar story.