My story of bipolar - what it's taken from me - what is your story?

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.

Hi there - I just wanted to tell you, you remind me of me. When I am manic, I take off. I have traveled all over the country, to Mexico, and to three African countries, all with next to no money while manic. Each place I have been I was on some sort of mission. I put myself in a lot of really dangerous situations and trusted people I shouldn't have, I got taken advantage of by multiple people. I also found myself in Oklahoma City at one time, chasing my jerk ex who didn't want me. Before I was medicated I accepted that I was a drifter. I just could not stop myself from leaving. I have moved over 20 times (I am only 26). The medication doesn't take away all my symptoms but it allows me to remain in one place even though at times it is painful. I don't know why I am inclined to be constantly moving around from place to place...not all people do this when manic though I have definitely heard stories. I'm on disability now and I am grateful for that because I am more stable than I ever have been in my adult life. I know I could not hold a job right now...not sure if I ever will, as my illness seems to be getting worse. I just stay at home and try to keep my **** together, try to be happy in my current relationship. Anyways, just wanted to let you know you're not alone in your inclination to travel. It's a weird thing.

Hey Hun, I'm sorry that was how it happened. I'm sorry about you losing your dog, too. MI is a b**ch that robs every bit of life out of living. There is usually no warnings till it has done it's worse.

Thank you for your story, it's a great example how MI can destroy a promising life in such a short time.

My story is that I never had a chance. I was ruined before I even started. My condition was instilled long before I started school. I barely finished school even though I was in the top quarter of my class. I've drifted and lived day to day doing whatever. I didn't know I was MI till I was 43 when I started getting treated. Essentially, I drifted from bed to bed, town to town as an alcoholic/addict not caring if I lived or died.

Today, I'm in the midst of my 4th separation to divorce and managing to barely work. It is what it is, and this is how it ever was. It's not hard to miss something that you never had. Life has always been a struggle, nothing new here.

I hope that things get better for you. It may look bleak right now, but with treatment, things can get better.