My Depression/Bipolar Story

For those who may, or may not know, I have dealt with depression, and bipolar disorder since I was in middle school. I started this blog to share my ups and downs with diabetes, depression, bipolar disorder and other medical problems that I deal with but mainly I have talked about diabetes. My dream is to help other people who have been severely depressed and other people that have to deal with other mental illnesses. I think the only way to do that is to tell my story and my ENTIRE story (wow, hands are sweating already because I'm so nervous about doing this). If you are going to read this, and then judge me, you might want to stop reading now.


When I was in 3rd grade, my brother developed severe anxiety. It pretty much took over his life. I was very angry at the fact that this happened to him. It wasn't just his life that changed, but our family life too. Back then, I didn't notice a change but thinking back now, my mental health started to change when I was in the 6th grade.

 In November of my 6th grade year, I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. This was a HUGE change for me. I think it was shortly after that, I became most angry. I remember getting so mad sometimes that I felt like I couldn't control it. The only thing that made me feel even a tiny bit better was to throw stuff. I would throw my hair brush, and beat my bedroom walls until they were covered in dents and scream and cry for hours. Over the years, I broke A LOT of mirrors. That stuff seems minor but by the time I was done my 6th grade year of middle school, I was self- harming (this is the part that I am nervous about opening up about).  For some reason, hurting myself on the outside made me feel better on the inside. I did this on and off for years.

When I started high school, I started seeing a therapist. I had hoped after seeing a therapist and getting on the right medication, I would feel better. I was put on medicine for anxiety and it helped that part but I was still severely depressed. It got to the point where I wasn't sure if what I was thinking or feeling was even normal. I had been so miserable for years that it became my normal.
When I was 15, I ended up in an outpatient facility because I was having suicidal thoughts. I went to this place 8 hours a day for 7-10 days. This was the most awful experience of my life. This place was suppose to help me get better. The people there were suppose to make sure I got therapy and got on the right medication. While I was there, I heard a lady tell an 11 year old boy that he was going to hell because he liked other boys. I was also told that if I ever acted on my suicidal thoughts, that I was going to hell too. Thank God my parents took me out of there early but none of my problems were solved. I was still depressed and had crazy mood swings.

To this day, the littlest things will set me off. I went from being very happy with a lot of energy to very angry within a matter of seconds. I still get angry like that at least once a day or once every other day. It will be something as little as me burning pancakes that will set me off (I promise you this really happened). This might sound crazy and you readers are probably thinking, "Ok, so what? Everyone gets a little frustrated when they burn breakfast." But when I get mad, I can't control it. When I get angry, I feel like someone else has taken over my body. It's like it is someone else that's dropping f-bombs or slamming the burnt skillet into the sink.

So, anyway, the rest of high school I was still depressed. After graduation is when things got worse. I had no motivation to do anything. I would avoid making plans with my friends and I was sad and lonely every day. The suicidal thoughts started coming more frequently and I would even think about different ways to end my life. I was starting to scare myself. After losing two of my best friends to suicide, something went off in my head that told me I needed help. I went to one therapist for awhile who then told me I needed to see a psychiatrist to get medication. Since then, I have been prescribed many combinations of medication to see what works best for me. I also see a therapist as often as possible. With my busy schedule it's usually only been every couple of weeks but I would really benefit from going once a week.

It took losing 2 friends to suicide, and hitting the lowest of lows for me to get help. When you get as depressed as I was, it is scary. It is the most scary, and miserable place to be. I honestly have no idea how I made it through. Where did I find the strength to get help? I told MYSELF I needed help...there was no one else there to tell me I needed help. I did it all on my own.

I am in a much better place now than I use to be. I still struggle daily but not nearly as bad as I use to. Hopefully, as long as I keep going to my psychiatrist and therapist like I'm suppose to, I will stay on the right path to a brighter outlook on life.