so kiss me & smile for me

I have a friend who goes to a therapist for behaviour modification, at her husband's request. We giggle and call it her 'obedience class'.

I hope you can see the small bit of happy through the clouds.

Wow. I've only been reading here for a short time, but it's amazing that someone on the other side of the world is going through the same things as me.

I saw my latest psychiatrist on Wednesday. I told him upfront that I was tired of talking, that I'd already talked myself out until I had no more to say and it had never made a difference.

He was fine with that. He was more interested in how I coped on a day to day basis than the gory details of every event that may have scarred me from childhood to present, anyway.

After an hour and a half of talking about such things as why I think I have Adult ADD (because a pyschologist told me I did) he said that he thinks all my problems are better explained by Bipolar II.

This was a huge shock to me and I'm still reeling. I don't want it to be bipolar, I've never thought of myself as bipolar (and I'm a regular visitor to Dr. Google, MD.) and I'm afraid of what it means for my family and my children.

I know my parents and extended family won't accept it and will see it as just another excuse to justify what they see as my chronic laziness/selfishness.

I'm not even sure what happens from here. My husband has an appointment with the psych, and if he backs up my story, the diagnosis will be confirmed. What comes after that terrifies me. Will I be given a new cocktail of drugs and expected to become "normal"? And what happens if I don't?

Thanks for sharing here. It feels better

Wow. I've only been reading here for a short time, but it's amazing that someone on the other side of the world is going through the same things as me.

I saw my latest psychiatrist on Wednesday. I told him upfront that I was tired of talking, that I'd already talked myself out until I had no more to say and it had never made a difference.

He was fine with that. He was more interested in how I coped on a day to day basis than the gory details of every event that may have scarred me from childhood to present, anyway.

After an hour and a half of talking about such things as why I think I have Adult ADD (because a pyschologist told me I did) he said that he thinks all my problems are better explained by Bipolar II.

This was a huge shock to me and I'm still reeling. I don't want it to be bipolar, I've never thought of myself as bipolar (and I'm a regular visitor to Dr. Google, MD.) and I'm afraid of what it means for my family and my children.

I know my parents and extended family won't accept it and will see it as just another excuse to justify what they see as my chronic laziness/selfishness.

I'm not even sure what happens from here. My husband has an appointment with the psych, and if he backs up my story, the diagnosis will be confirmed. What comes after that terrifies me. Will I be given a new cocktail of drugs and expected to become "normal"? And what happens if I don't?

Thanks for sharing here. It's nice not to feel so alone with it all.

My partner owes her sanity to a great psychiatrist in Berkeley. He didn't annoy her by making her tell her story over and over - he heard what he needed to hear (evil bad ex = PTSD and depression), and got her into a drug study he was doing. She's switched a couple of times to different meds, but meds were absolutely the answer for her. I think you have to fight off the desire to be medication-free. Face it, some people need meds to get by. I need pain meds, my partner needs other meds - life sometimes sucks, but there are lots of different meds that can help. I think the pharmaceutical industry often sucks, but they put out some lovely helpful products. Right now, I'd like to kiss the person who invented Enablex, because I no longer feel like Granny Clampett.

So, exactly what *is* "trucking at night"? What was it supposed to say?

I am de-lurking, because I just lurk around here mostly, but here I am. For what it's worth, I've been struggling with depression and anxiety since I was two years old. When I was twenty and seeing my first psychiatrist, he told me that I had anxiety, and I stubbornly refused to believe it. What? Me? Anxiety? I had lived with it for so long, it had been such a constant in my life, that I couldn't even see it anymore. Finally now, fourteen years later, I am working on finding the right medication and acknowledging the seriousness of what I go through.

But this isn't about me. I wanted to say, as I'm sure many have, that I feel for what you're going through. I hope all the best for the therapy you've started, for you, and for your family.