My Diagnosis

As noted in my previous post, I had both my second appointment with my psychologist and my first appointment with her recommended psychiatrist.  I was not as anxious at my second appointment; my speech was not as rushed; my thoughts, although still rapid, came out a little clearer.  However, I still had the tendency to move from topic to topic, time frame to time frame, issue to issue.  The therapist showed me the note she faxed to the psychiatrist and gave me a copy as well (if lost in faxing).  There were a couple of items I walked away from therapy realizing:  1.  I internalize everything/am VERY sensitive.  So, if I know a person would not purposely hurt me, I am most likely misinterpreting their words/motives.  2.  In 42 years (with about 25 years in and out of therapies), I never really knew what I wanted out of therapy; what my goals are; what I am doing.

A visit to the psychiatrist is a stark contrast to seeing a therapist.  I had been to psychiatrists in my eating disorder days.   They seemed cold and I never was able to tell if medicine affected me positively, negatively or acted as a placebo.  Therefore, I stopped going and stopped taking medicine.  After I gave birth to Roger, I sought out a psychologist and she stated I had postpartum (believe me, I did not need a therapist to tell me that).  My primary care doctor gave me a prescription to Prozac and I never since consulted with a psychiatrist.

My therapist told me to expect to take some tests to assess my diagnosis, as well as conversation.  On any day, I’d rather take tests than talk.  However, first came the talking.  It was an anxiety-riddled collection of thoughts.  I was all over the place.  It probably came off as drug-induced conversation.  I never know what to say.  I say too much.  Trip over my words.  Feel embarrassed and idiotic.  Act like I’m a prepubescent teen who has no knowledge of herself and life.  Then came the easy part:  the tests.  The answer to most of the questions was Frequently.  And I thought to myself, “Don’t most people feel like this most of the time?!”.

My diagnosis, according to the psychiatrist (and first pointed out by the psychologist), is undeniably Bipolar Disorder.  My previous therapist gave me a diagnosis of Aspergers and OCD.  It seems that bipolar is sometimes misdiagnosed as OCD and that the drugs prescribed (anti-depressants like Prozac — that was increased to 40 mg due to the OCD) actually make Bipolar worse.  Bipolar Disorder requires mood stabilizers instead and a lot of OCD tendencies may be a result of having bipolar, instead of a separate diagnosis.

Although depressed over having a mood disorder, there is much to learn about the diagnosis and myself.  I wrote many different verses to end this post but none can sum up how I feel.  Please do not feel bad for me; do not pity me; do not state this is a false diagnosis; do not state I am strong and can do this.  I love your support but am putting this out there “as is” and not for input.   I have so many thoughts and feelings to sort out that I do not wish to misconstrue your words…

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