Although I've never been hospitalised for my illness, and I'm very lucky to have found the right combination of medications after years of collecting diagnoses before a psychiatric nurse practitioner took one look at them and said the magic phrase 'Bipolar Disorder II' in response to everything I was telling her, my illness has impacted my life for worse and for I suppose in some small ways for better, too. So it was interesting to read another person's experience with treatment, particularly in trying to maintain or recover a sense of 'self' that has been lost. If you or anyone you love has bipolar disorder, you should read this. It's a fair description of it from the inside.
The Problem With How We Treat Bipolar Disorder by Linda Logan
The last time I saw my old self, I was 27 years old and living in Boston. I was doing well in graduate school, had a tight circle of friends and was a prolific creative writer. Married to my high-school sweetheart, I had just had my first child. Back then, my best times were twirling my baby girl under the gloaming sky on a Florida beach and flopping on the bed with my husband — feet propped against the wall — and talking. The future seemed wide open.
I don’t think there is a particular point at which I can say I became depressed. My illness was insidious, gradual and inexorable.
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