Quote from: Laura Eva B on December 10, 2008, 01:38:09 AM
I thought bipolar happens in adulthood ... never heard of a bipolar child ?
"Sounds and smells" triggering symptoms ... guess you're self diagnosing an imagined condition ...
If you're really bipolar you're going to have periods sectioned into a psychiatric hospital until they calm you down with meds !
Laura x
Let's second guess what the poster reveals, because your so up on us all....
I haven't self diagnosed.
It was thought that I may have been mildly to moderately retarded as a child in grade school, for I had horrible learning disabilities.
The school suggested to my parents that I be taken out of that school, and send to a place for the retarded. My folks were incensed.
I was taken to a child psychologist, who specialized in child development and learning disabilities. Number one was I needed glasses. Number two, I was dyslexic. Number three, I wasn't autistic as first suspected, but considered to be a Fey Child. It actually turned out to be ADHD. I danced in out and out of reality, and had sessions where I was hard to reach. I was put on mild mood altering drugs for a while, to control my whispering, giggling and laughing, and talking to imaginary friends. I also had dizziness or fainting spells. I vomited a lot. I was so frail, that I had to wear a special helmet to protect my head, when I just blacked out, and hit the floor. I was a twirler, a skipper, flapped my arms, and I liked to sing nonsense songs.
My school accommodated me from 2nd to 6th grade, with specialized teachers to help me learn. I was watched,controlled,and on most occasions separated from the main student body.(like at recess) I wasn't in an inner city public school, but a rural school. They had different standards there.
I was given numerous tests as the years progressed, and sent to our States major University where cases like mine were being studied. By the time I was 11 and 12, I started having my first horrible migraine headaches. By the time 13,14,15 came,(Puberty) I was having terrifying panic attacks and violent outbursts of rage and then depression. My parents had me put in an institution for one half a summer at 14 were I was sedated. Interestingly; many thought I was a girl. I told them I was too...When my parents were aware of this, they clarified the facts. The staff was confused. There was talk of my having a split personality.
By the time I was 16, I was leveling off, with chemical help, and most of the weirdness was subsiding. Except for the girlishness and withdrawal sessions. I came out to my mom at 17. All I said was, I wanted to be a girl, and I hated being a boy. She told me that was nice,but, I was a boy, and had to grow up. I refused to adhere. Which caused huge problems. For me, and for them. My mother found a dress and a pair of panties I had taken from a cousin my same age. Here I was, just 17, and forcing the issue. My dad was really angry.
He told my mother I was just nuts! He called me a queer to my face. My parents had a violent argument following that.
I had a chance to go to California when I was 18, and to live with family friends. They set me up, in a modest apartment that was above their garage, and had it's own balcony with entry... I went to art school out there. It was a chance for me to try to live on my own, sort of, and be in a more tolerant area than where I was from. It turned into a nearly life ending disaster. I ended up with stainless steel pins, screws and wire holding parts of me together. I had to have my skull wired together, and then plastic surgery later to reshape the damage. I lost parts of my intestines and bladder. I lost a tooth, and had to have all of my front teeth reset. My pelvic bone is nothing but plastic and steel screws. When your beaten furiously with fists, stomped, and hit with blunt somethings countless times, plus stabbed and slashed, along with having been raped, you die. If your lucky,you can be saved. I was. Three months in the hospital, over 500 sutures, and nearly a year to recover. Lots of mental therapy just to help you recover from that alone. After that pain has passed, you get to endure followup plastic surgeries. Talk about major sessions of depression!
I was finally diagnosed as Bi-polar when I was 30. Which helped explain many things about my past. I still have vertigo on occasion, and faint without warning. The smell of blood and sudden sparklers in my eyes, are about a 2 min. warning I am going to go unconscious.. I very rarely drive by myself. I have a restricted license. I wear a medical alert bracelet.
I have been on Ritalin, Paxil, Zoloft, and Serzone. Today, I rely on a combination of Wellbutrin and Desyrel. If I go off them, I will crash and end up in the hospital. I have spent parts of my life numbed and incoherent as a kid. Numbed and incoherent as an adult. Other times, just totally out of it. I'm still dyslexic, along with a severely damaged left eye optic nerve. All this, and yet I still knew who I was inside....amazing. The fact that I could go through with SRS, was even more of a miracle.
Before you second guess what anyone has been through, it may help if you knew the facts!
As I have posted else where, we all have our histories, paths, experiences. Life isn't a Walmart fitting, where one size fits all.
You may wonder how it is , that I am able to write and to be coherent today. The answer is; Lots of love, physical therapy, mental therapy, legal assistance, retraining, re-schooling, State grants, and Art Scholarships. Endless hours listening to audio tapes, learning how to speak again. Reading the dictionary like a bible. Writing courses, and having a college prof nearly adopt you, mentoring you,in order for you to figure it out. Having physicians and psychiatrists who deeply care about your physical and mental well being. Group therapy.
A family who really loves you, after all the trails you put them though. And finally, a husband who not only knows of your past problems, and the current idiosyncrasies, but loves you for who you are, and allows you to be you. I still slur some of my words, and miss-speak often. I never quit trying. I can't quit. Life won't let me.
This has turned out to be way more info than I wanted to reveal.CG
