It has been gently pointed out to me that instead of spewing stream of consciousness type posts all over the internet (by which I mean Twitter, Facebook and Mumsnet) I could write a blog. So here I am, with a shiny new blog, typing words in and – well, tbh I’m wondering whether anyone other than me will ever read them! But I guess the most important thing is that they’re written, so here goes.
I’m in my early 30s, married with 2 small children. To save time and confusion with names I’ll just refer to my family with the traditional acronyms – my husband as DH, my 3 year old daughter as DD and my 1 year old son as DS. Imaginative aren’t I? 😉
I have suffered from mental health problems in one form or another since childhood. But it’s only recently that I have come to see that instead of blithely
limping striding through life with the occasional course of antidepressants and counselling I might actually need some proper help. So I went to the GP with a bullet-pointed list of symptoms, because I’m that sort of a person (and because while I can communicate relatively well through written text I am shockingly bad at discussing important things face-to-face). Anyway, the GP read through my list and her eyebrows climbed higher and higher – I thought at one point they might actually disappear into her hairline – until at last she took a deep breath and gently told me that in her opinion I have a form of bipolar disorder (specifically bipolar 2) and need proper psychiatric assessment.
Of course as soon as I got home I googled and sat scanning lists of symptoms, treatments and prognoses until my eyesight started to blur. And do you know what? For the first time in my life the chaos inside my head actually began to make sense. I found myself ticking off symptoms and nodding in agreement at accounts written by diagnosed sufferers. I began to think that actually there might be some hope for me, some reason that I am the way that I am – and most importantly that I might not always have to be this way.
So that’s where things are at the moment. I’m still dutifully taking my anti-depressants every morning and waiting for a letter to land on my doormat with a date to see a psychiatrist. Whether they will confirm the GP’s diagnosis or decide that something else is closer to the mark remains to be seen. But hopefully this is the first step to gaining some stability and sanity in my life.