At this point I think pretty much everyone agrees that I am bipolar. I take 6 different drugs for psychiatric reasons. I go to therapy once a week, therapy group twice a week, and psychiatrist at least once a month.
It all started when I was 12. My moods got unstable. I became suicidal. My once standing as a straight-A, model student went away. Suddenly I was a C/D student. And the Ds were gifts. I had outbursts, I would get upset and run out of the room. I threw a book at a teacher. At home, thought, I was innocent, well-behaved me. Eventually the bad grades caught up with me, and I had t start holding it all in everywhere, again. Later I learned they had diagnosed me as manic depressive. My mother had refused help.
For years I pressed on despite my illness. I got into college and survived that. But then came grad school. A painful process for anyone, grad school brought out the mental illness to levels as high as it had ever been. And so far I have lived to tell the tale. (Title: Manic Depression, Jimi Hendrix)
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