I have had symptoms of Bipolar Disorder since the age of 10 but wasn’t diagnosed until I was close to 35 years old. That is a lot of suffering. If you are Bipolar or have Major Depression you understand what I mean. The constant empty ache in your chest like something horrible has happened but you don’t know what. Feelings of being worthless, like you never should’ve been born or guilt. Being bullied throughout school did nothing to help. Alcohol did.
The first time I hurt myself I don’t remember much of it. I know it was my 17th Birthday and I was at my own party at J’s house. Someone must have said or done something because that’s usually how it happened then. My extreme low self-esteem got me every single time.
I do remember my best friend W. screaming at J. and people wrapping my wrists as we went to the Hospital and I got stitches.
Another time I cut so deep on the left side but refused to go to the Hospital that I caused nerve damage going to me left pinkie and ring finger. They both still go numb and the scar isn’t pretty because I never went for stitches. I have a total of 4 scars.
I have also had the pleasure of having my stomach pumped and having charcoal forced down my throat on several different occasions.
Because of all this I was constantly court ordered to see Psychiatrists and Therapists who didn’t help.
I also jumped off the roof of a building but luckily I was so drunk that I didn’t realize how close to the ground it actually was. I chipped a bone in my ankle and had some scrapes and bruises.
I stopped doing this in my thirties for some reason. The feeling was still there but I didn’t act on it.
When I went into Kidney Failure and didn’t realize what was going on or that it was as serious as it was the Doctor had asked if I wanted a DNR and he also said I needed to get my family there immediately. That’s when it hit me that things were bad. By this time I had been diagnosed Bipolar with Conversion Disorder. I couldn’t reach my Dad because he was at Dialysis! My sister wasn’t answering her phone as usual. I was angry so I signed the DNR. I thought that my family didn’t care about me so it didn’t matter anyway.
I found out recently that the Doctor knew I wasn’t stable enough to make that decision so when they lost all my vital signs he ignored the DNR, I flatlined. Lifesaving measures were taken. It wasn’t too bad they only lost me for less than a minute and I’m glad he ignored the DNR because I have something I didn’t have when I was younger.
I have a sliver of hope that I might be happy one day. I’m finally kind of okay with the outside of myself after 44 years now I have to try to forgive the inside. I have to stop punishing myself for everything I’ve said and done in my life that may or may not have caused people to not like me. If that means I’m alone than I have to learn to be comfortable with that. Alone isn’t that bad. I can go where I want and be with the animals I love so much. I could even live with a pack of wolves. (Okay that might be a bit much but I would if I could)
What I’m trying to say is that when it came down to it, when death was right there, I was scared as Hell and so happy to wake up and see my sister’s face.