At 25 I knew I couldn't live hating life and wanting to die all the time. The first 2 or 3 psychs said I was depressed but the meds didn't work. Duh because I was bipolar and meds are different. 1 psych saw me every 2 weeks and either started a new drug or upped the dose on one of them. I was a medicine mess so dropped him after about 2 months.I liked the next psych but then after a year she closed her practice. Great...next. Then I skipped the psych for awhile and went to a counselor. At that one, I learned what EMDR is. We tried it for my PTSD from date rapes. It is a light bar with little lights that go across. The office lights are turned off and then you sit in complete silence. The counselor asks you to think of a bad thing and you stare at the lights for 5 min I think (forgot time limit). Well it didn't work at all. I really liked her, but then she had surgery and never came back to be my counselor. Great...next.
Then I found a clinic for sex abuse and women's issues. Men not allowed. The pay was based on your income level, which has always been low. The counselor would never focus on the rapes, men issues, fear of sex, etc. She was always worried about my suicidal issues and my mood. Ok lady I can handle that, especially if you fix these parts. I was unhappy seeing her, but I liked the groups they had. There were art workshops to express feelings, and just things to do and paper to fill out with a leader that all based on your emotions. I stayed for over a year and then ditched, bc the money I was paying was not worth it, bc my sex issues were not being dealt with.
I am not 30 yet, so just floating around to different places, but then just before my 30th bday, I had no psych for several months, my refills had run out and the calls I made said, "he isn't taking new patients." "We can get you in next month." Damn no help out there when desperate. So at 30 it was hospital check in. I was seriously considering driving down the highway that very late night and taking off seat belt, have my DNR license on the seat and crash at high speed. I had a relationship at the time, and he encouraged me to go to the hosp. I told my grandpa (who I was living with for assistance) that I was taking a trip to Boston with a friend. I eventually told my parents the truth from psych ward phone, and admitted myself. I got a room, took my shoes, but I could wear my own clothes bc not a real threat to cutting myself or over the top. This was on a Sunday. I didn't get to see a psych til Tues, so we all sit around, talk about our issues and color. I had my bf bring us markers and crayons to use. I learned what electro shock therapy is these days and still scary. On Tuesday, the Dr says here some meds and you can just go home. WHAT THE FUCK?? I was pissed, I had brought myself to check in for help and meds don't even get to work and I'm out. I was talking to people like me, having group therapy, away from the stresses of my life...please don't make me leave. So I got to stay til Wed afternoon and then out the door. I told myself I will never check myself in again.
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