My Struggle

I've been debating whether or not I want to write about all of this and share with others. It's taken me three months and I think I'm ready.

In August of this year a new medication was added, Abilify, to enhance my current antidepressant. I was on the medication for almost a full month but I hated it. I was quickly gaining weight and it was affecting my self-esteem. I stopped taking the medication.

When I visited my psychiatrist toward the end of August he put me on a new antidepressant, Fetzima. I quickly went downhill. It was a very scary time. I couldn't function, I was filled with anger and frustration. I was extremely depressed, constantly crying. I had suicidal plans. I would stay up all night, not wanting to sleep.

At the beginning of September I tried to contact my psychiatrist to report my symptoms but my psychiatrist was out of town. I asked if there was another psychiatrist in their office that I could see as it was an emergency. The next day I got a call from the main psychiatrist and he informed me that he could not see me and if I was having these symptoms I should just go to the hospital. All I could think to myself was, "I don't want to go to the hospital. I want you to take me off this medication and fix this." But my psychiatrist's office was unwilling to help.

I saw my therapist that night and once she saw how bad I was she recommended the hospital as well. She said that I could go to Sheppard Pratt and they would do a walk-in evaluation. I may not be admitted, they could possible advise upon my evaluation on a way to proceed - weening me off the Fetzima and putting me on another medication.

I was scared, scared beyond control. All I could do was cry and shake. My wonderful fiance took me to Sheppard Pratt that very night, they evaluated me and determined I should be admitted. I was devastated and scared to my bones. When they walked me up to the ward and my fiancé, Rob, had to leave I had never felt such fear. I had nothing but the clothes I was wearing and I had no idea what to expect.

I was led onto the ward and my fear did not dissipate. I was led from nurse to nurse getting vitals, getting bedding and towels and shown my room. I couldn't eat. I was scared of everyone on the ward. I was scared of sleeping in my room. I was freezing. All I could do was cry.

During the time I was in the hospital, a week, I was lucky to have the support of Rob who would visit me every day and bring me anything I needed. I also had the support of my sister who would visit and my parents who would call daily. I'm not going to lie, the hospital was a very scary place. It's exactly what you would imagine. I didn't feel like I belonged. I felt like I was much better and higher functioning than most of the other patients on the ward. Over time I got to know several of them and I learned that they were all suffering like I was. While I was suffering due to a medication mistake, others were suffering from PTSD, severe manic episodes, severe depression. The most important thing I learned is that they were all just like me. Just trying to get their lives back on track - through medication, therapy and learning about their illness.

In the hospital I was completely taken off the Fetzima. At the end of my visit I was put on a very low dose of Cymbalta until I could see my new psychiatrist. I was given exercises to practice at home to help keep me from becoming overwhelmed. While in the hospital I was diagnosed as Bipolar 2, depression and signs of obsessive compulsive disorder.

While I couldn't wait to get home, leaving the hospital was scary. All of a sudden I was back in the real world. How was I going to cope? When would I be ready to go back to work? Unfortunately, things became even worse.

The day after I got back from the hospital Rob was put on administrative leave. A week later he was terminated from his job, a job that he had worked hard at for 12 years. He was terminated for what I believe were unjust causes. Though he appealed the decision his employer did not have an appeal policy.

The day after Rob lost his job, I lost mine. During the time I was in the hospital Rob maintained contact with my employer as I was very concerned about losing my job. Rob was reassured by both the owner of the company and the VP that my job was secure and it was their hope that I would get better. Upon coming home I had reached out to my supervisor but was informed that they thought it was in my best interest (?) and the company's best interest. They felt it would be best that I did not work at a job that made me sick. They also cited that they could no longer afford to keep me on staff though they had just given me a raise a month earlier. I was extremely hurt by this. I had been working for my employer off and on for 9 years via various companies. He was very aware of the struggles I dealt with and had always supported me. I was devastated that they could get rid of me so easily.

It has been almost 2 months since Rob and I lost our jobs. I'm happy to say that the struggle we've gone through has brought us very close, we're very good at supporting each other. I'm proud to say that Rob has worked so hard to apply for several, several jobs though none have panned out. I'm also proud to say that I have also applied to close to 30 jobs though none have panned out either. Rob puts in very long hours at $8.50 an hour at what was his former part-time job so he can continue to provide child support to his son. The checks are small but they are something.

We're scared, we're worried. Unfortunately in the time since I left the hospital I have not been able to focus on the personal things I need to work on to get better. My medication has been altered several times since I've left and I'm feeling better but I still fall into depressions, I become extremely exhausted easily. The side effects of the medication have also been difficult to deal with. I know that I need to work on myself and many of the fears and traits that I have which hold me back. I haven't felt that I can concentrate on these things with our limited finances and stress of finding jobs.

Mental illness is a true disease that I wish more people would take seriously. There are several of us that struggle with mental illness on a daily basis. We need support, we need hugs, we need help.

This has been my life over the past few months. I'm trying to stay positive but sometimes it is hard.

In the meantime, if anyone knows of any job openings, I'm open to suggestions! :)