Six months or so ago, I was diagnosed bipolar, and it launched the round after round of medication roulette to try and find a combination that kept me well enough to be getting out of bed in the morning. When I started this journey that was all I wanted – I have a decent set of coping strategies, I just needed that little bit more so I was well enough for them to kick in. Or so I thought.
Today was my first proper meeting with my new case manager, who will co-ordinate my care with Community Mental Health. I came out feeling shattered.
The entire focus of the meeting was on my anxiety problems. I know I’ve been having some anxiety problems, I’ve had them as long as I can remember. They play up most in in stores with fluorescent lights and less-than-friendly staff, for reasons well beyond my understanding. At times it’s worse, and just being out is too much, but these times pass.
But such a big focus on anxiety, with every other issue I have being pushed aside, made me feel like I’ve just discovered another part of me that’s more broken than I thought. I’ve coped with this problem all my life, and it only limits me a little. To be told that I need therapy or maybe meds to control it makes me feel even less normal than I was when I walked in to the room. It made me feel overwhelmed with my ever-widening range of problems.
I walked in to mental health with a bout of depression that wasn’t resolving. So far this time round, I’ve been diagnosed with bipolar and now anxiety. It feels like instead of the hope I was feeling with my old psych, I’m sinking deeper and deeper into black hopelessness. What else is wrong with me that I don’t know about?