Hi all,

Just wanted to share some of my thoughts and why I might belong here.
And because I wants a place I can share things during the waiting for examination and therapy when that time comes.

I am not diagnosed, but my doctor suspect bipolar. I have agreed to be sent for an psychological examination. My doc would probably say 'finally…' and he did plead for me to not change my mind before getting an appointment. Can take a couple months or more.

I assume the reason for his concern is the fact that I was hospitalized, by force, eighteen months ago. I was in a manic state of mind, also got psychotic and a bit suicidal- but only when people interfered me during my manic state. All by myself I was doing great. I told them I would get back to normal if they just had the ability to leave me alone. Told them they were not smart enough to understand what was going on anyway, and that I was not even gonna bother trying to explain to them. 'They' were my doctor and my husband. The last one had contacted the first one, and then my doctor asked me to come see him. I did. But I didn't tell him anything, because I considered him unable to understand anyway. I told him I could agree to talking to my old psychiatrist. I had been going to therapy for two years, trying to figure out what was wrong with me, something was lurking in the deep of my mind. I was in search for answers.

I left the doctor. Soon after an ambulance came to pick me up at home. That was kind of embarassing, of course. I asked my husband if I had done something bad. He said I had done nothing, it was the words spoken that concerned him. And the fact that I had not slept more than few hours for a couple weeks, nor taken a shower.
I knew I had to go with them, and I knew that if I didn't act polite they would use force. So, I sat there, in the ambulance next to my husband. I whispered to him, and sat like a perfect behaving human being. My thoughts racing, concluding that if I only behave they will have to let me go home eventually.

Long story short. I was put in closed ward. Refused medication, and refused to eat for the first two days- because I was convinced they would put medication in my food. I did agree to taking sleeping pills, because I knew I needed sleep to balance this madness going on. Released after a week. Refused to talk to anyone while being there. Told the psychiatrist she wasn't smart enough, and I would only talk to her if she had knowledge of the dabrowski theory of positive disintegration. (Which she didn't have, and she also got mad at me for being so happy and proud about all this. That was when I told her she wasn't smart enough, after her refusing to talk about the theory I requested we talk about)

Why I have agreed to do this now is because my habitual state of mind has changed. I am normally always in a state of hypomania, or, used to be. I was never depressed. My old psychiatrist actually said it was weird, this constant happy-go-lucky manic thing fixing everything. Sometimes made me exhausted. Like having an inner coach always bugging you to keep going. Always some projects going on, always positive, to the extent of being exhausting for myself. Collapsing into frustration every now and then, but not really depressed.

Last year has been different. I have been more frustrated than energetic. Restless frustrating feeling. I didn't use to have much feelings at all until that manic episode. My psychiatrist once compared me with a robot, from star wars actually. I analyze everything from a scientific point of view, and I only had feelings on the positive specter. The ones on the negative specter I rarely allowed myself to feel. My brain always analyzed it faster than my feelings could feel it.
I agreed because even though I am not depressed I really hate this restless feeling of boredom. It takes so much energy trying to act normal. I get easily frustrated and I feel everything is in slow motion.

I do work full-time as a manager. Everyone seem happy with me, except me. I am bored, my tasks are getting more boring than fun. My legs get restless and I get the sense of needing to pee (like when you have infection, but I don't), or I get fidgety with my hands. Inside I want to scream. But I don't. I am not sure if it is my intelligence that makes me seem like bipolar, or if it is my intelligence making me able to cope with the bipolar. (I have been tested, I am highly gifted)

And, of course, this state also makes me tired. All the time. I don't have the energy to do both my work and keeping the house tidy. So my husband does more than he should, making him frustrated.

Lol, my story is even longer. And some parts my shed more light on all this, but yeah. I have starting reading here and I see why they suspect bipolar. I am able to agree, on a certain level.
My psychiatrist never diagnosed me, we agreed I didn't need any label, atleast not at that time. I did use ritalin for a year, in the start of the therapy. And that did calm me down. Later I found coping-strategies and then I quit.

I did of course read about bipolar after I was hospitalized, and I don't drink alcohol anymore and I have been more active and my bmi is normal. Actually I stopped drinking several years ago, because that really mess me up. I try to sleep regulary.
All of that is helpful when I am happy. But in this restless frustrated state I have been in for several months it doesn't seem to help. I either can't sleep, or I sleep too much and still feel tired.

And the dreams have changed. From interesting scientific discussion in my dreams I have started dreaming bizzare and vivid nightmares. I know something is going on.

Maybe this post is bits and pieces, long story in one post- sorry about that.


I think they will diagnose me. My doc thinks so atleast. And well, I am a bit subjective, even though my self-awareness is high, it is of course easier for others to tell.

I know it only takes one severe mania to get diagnosed. But shouldn't I be depressed aswell? Maybe I am not because I have settled with life not having a meaning, except for the meaning we make ourselves. I have to be here for my children. And my goal is to make some sort of positive meaning while being here. Small positive thing is enough- give someone a smile, help someone back to work. (I do that, I employ people struggling, and I do help them)
Like I told my doc, isn't that funny- I seem to be able to help other people, but I can't seem to get myself out of the restless frustrating state of mind.