What held you back from seeking help in the first place?

What held you back from seeking help in the first place?

Money? Denial? No available help? No transportation? Hopeless (i.e., didn't believe anything would help)? Unsure of how to get help or who to talk to?

I sought help right away, as soon as it was apparent to me, as well as to good friends, that I could use some help. It helped that I had excellent insurance coverage at the time.

WC

Money. No insurance. Community mental health center said they couldn't help me.

I was in denial. My doctor mentioned bipolar and I told him that was impossible. My brother has bipolar and I saw him manic a few times. I said I was nothing like my brother. But eventually I was able to see it, that's when I sought help.

Paranoia I think was the biggest barrier, incredibly fearful of being hospitalized if I went to a psychiatrist for help. Didn't want to be the main victim in a 70's era horror movie, which is what I "knew" would happen.

I have good enough insurance; so really had no real excuse to put it off as long as I did.

I have been in denial about having mania even though I may have had some for my entire life. I made a huge step yesterday when I told the psychologist I needed more medication to calm me down. I usually ask for less or the same thing. He actually just gave me what was given to me in the past (300 mg gabapentin (I had told him I didn't need it and had never taken it as often as prescribed) and the usual Xanax--it is just that I am going to get it more regularly. I constantly take the least amount of medication possible because I like how energetic I feel when I cut it back. When my H suggests I need something I tend to think it is because he wants to control me and make me feel crazy. But I have to admit that when I do not take enough I am paranoid about things my H says and does to the point of delusion, I sleep 3-5 hours a night (thinking I am working on important things) and am not making rational decisions at all times. My conversations with my whole family are more rational when I take enough medicine to calm myself down. I want to think that I don't need medication and am fine without it. I also am paranoid that the drug companies are all out to get us (there is a partial truth in this and all my delusions). I am not so sure anymore.

I sought help right away...in my teens...had to as it was obvious I was seriously ill and headed for a disaster...mental, physical, and legal. Went to a community health center and they set me up with a T and pdoc right away...been in treatment ever since.

Been bp for decades before I was diagnosed. I just thought I was depressed. Finally my primary doc put things together and sent me to psych and they officially diagnosed me.

Denial, pride and stigma.

One Flew Over the Coocoo’s Nest (movie) plus my mom IP experience is all I knew. I didn’t want to get locked up. I was terrified—my employer had sent me to their psychiatrist, and I was sure he was calling a paddy wagon when he suddenly got up. I ran like He**

I held myself back mainly. I had insurance at the time but I just didn't want to believe anything was wrong with me. I was in a very deep depression and (trigger) it took about 10 suicide attempts over a 6 month period for me to finally tell my mom what was going on. (trigger) I was admitted the next day to IP and stayed there for 2 weeks total, that's the only time I've been IP. I usually hide the truth so that I won't go back IP because I'm terrified of going. I've had a total of 4 manic episodes and countless depressive episodes.

Oh boy. Well BP wasn’t even on my radar. Going back 20 years my initial concern was anxiety and panic attacks and I didn’t seek help right away cause I thought I would be judged and my kids would be taken away if I was diagnosed with mental illness. I was paranoid and clueless. (But I was a good mom )
I was also afraid if medicated I’d feel like a zombie. Which is exactly what happened when I finally sought help and was Rx Paxil. Lasted 3 days on it and never went back to the doc for a long time.

Never thought to ask for help. Then one day I had my fill of dealing with life and tried to end it all. A friend called and could tell something was wrong ended up in ICU transferred to IP and began learning about the world of BP. That was over 30 years ago. Ignorance was my reason for not seeking help.

No insurance. Didn't know how to get help.

I think the stigma of mental illness stopped me from getting help earlier. I didn`t want to be thought of as mentally ill because of the stigma of having a mental illness has in this society.The way mentally ill people are sometimes portrayed on television and in the movies made me think "no that`s not me". I know it`s not right and I`ve accepted my illness now but I still feel ashamed about being ill.

Stigma prevented me too. It took me almost 2 years to go see a therapist since I was initially depressed. 7 months after my attempt. Hell no one had any clue what I was going Through.

Short version: My parents were in denial, I couldn’t find help, fear of CPS being called (still afraid of this)

I was forced into therapy as a teen through the school. I was sure if I said anything I’d be taken from my family. So I sat silent week after week until the horrible T said my dad did something to me. I NOPED right out of there. I told my dad what she said and I was told I don’t have to go back. My dad was the only one I was close too. My mood swings were really bad I went from cutting to wearing club cloths, So my cuts often showed. I was sent to the school social worker. I still wouldn’t say much unless I was manic. He got use to picking me up in class when I was manic. He tried pushing my parents for me to see someone. It didn’t help I drank a lot both in and out of school and did drugs. He learned I was drinking and starving. He brought up the fact I may be an alcoholic which I found hilarious because I was manic. He never did bring up the starvation thing. Then I dropped out.I knew I had BP at 13 because my sister was dx. with it. I asked my first T to help that I need medication. She told me I was just a spoiled brat. My parents didn’t want to have me go to therapy because it didn’t help my sister

I went to GED classes. Immediately the teacher knew I had an ED. She chopped the mood swings to the eating disorder. She had the drug and alcohol therapist talk to me. That didn’t go well. Like admitting it would send me straight to the hospital. Shortly after that I went to college. Didn’t get help there.

We had our son and I was terrified to tell my dr about my depression because everyone said I’d be such a good mom. So I dealt with psychosis on my own. It’s not like it was my first time being psychotic. We moved and I wanted help with my eating disorder. I called tons of places but I wasn’t thin enough for help.

Later I tried to get help again or my husband was going to leave me. My GP thought he could handle me. I went into a rage and we stopped the meds. He wanted me IP and I said no. I got my way.

Then a second GP saw me when I was manic and put me on depakote and sent me to a pdoc. That was a **** show I ended up on a slew of different meds tons of changing Dx. It didn’t help that I thought she’d take my son away from me and if my husband was going to divorce me he could use my psych records.

Time past without help

I got help because I was paranoid my husband’s T was going to lock me up.

I’m still sceptical of pdoc’s and T’s wanting to lock me up and take my kid away.

As a teen I didnt want help, I was perfectly happy ruining my life as long as it was fun or I was numb. Then I didn't want to believe anything was really wrong with me for a lot of years so I would go to the dr when I was depressed and just say I was tired and they would do bloodwork and say I was fine. Plus I kept getting "through" the depressions on my own. Finally someone told me I was being selfish not getting help so I got help for my kids not really for myself, I was afraid of becoming a zombie as well. I have been a lot of things since starting to try meds but definitely not a zombie lol

i only knew one other person with bipolar when i was first experiencing the symptoms in high school. she was really erratic, not like me. i had no way of comparing how i was feeling to anyone else, and no one really diagnosed people like me (BPII) back then, or not from where i was standing in 1995.
when i first was diagnosed in 2009 after a fairly disruptive episode, but i didn't believe it. then i tried meds and they gave me some side effects so i just let it go and got by somehow without any big disruptions until this year. i had an episode over the past several months and went back on lamictal and it is working really well and i feel okay now, i accept the diagnosis now. i'm basically almost 40 and just accepting something that i can see symptoms of back into my early adolescence.

I don't think I would have sought help on my own. My GP forced me to see a psychiatrist or he would have fired me as a patient. He thought I had something much more serious than simple depression. Well, he was right---I got diagnosed bipolar at that first consult appointment---and I ended up thanking him later, even though I was really pissed when he sent me to Dr. Awesomesauce.

parents.

they didn't want me to get help, at all

they even went as far as to scare people off their property if they came to help me and



it was a friend of the families who helped me get started. she knew something was wrong, and she didn't care what my parents thought- she was getting me help anyway.

I do wish i'd gotten help sooner.

it would probably be embarrassing for me at age 9 which is where I believe it all started, it's sort of bad luck I had to wait 3 whole years before I could see someone properly

When I was a teen, I didn't really understand what was wrong me. I never thought to seek help. My parents didn't think to get me help either. I just got written off as a bad kid. That it was just a "teen" thing.

It wasn't until I came down from a horrible mixed episode when I was 26 that made me realize that I needed help. My son was also having major issues at the time. We both had our first pdoc visits in the same month.

I thought the cycles of depression were temporary (lasted 2-3 days) and that I could handle it. I was also high functioning. It took a breakdown for me to wake up and get help.