Had a checkup with my psychiatrist today. I brought the kids with me since it's only a 30 minute appointment and it was right at 12pm, so I fed them before we left and brought the ipad to try to keep them occupied. She brought in a few toys for my little man to play with and my daughter sat in the stroller happily tapping away at the ipad. A tiny bit distracting, but nothing a mom of two toddlers isn't used to. I like how my doctor asks about my writing. She knows it is important to me and she supports my voice. My last psychiatrist didn't read my book draft since I became emotional during the one appointment when I told her about it, handing her the draft to read. She told me at the next visit that she hadn't read it since I became so upset. The fact that she didn't read it (or so she said) made me sad. I was handing her a glimpse into my thoughts, feelings, and emotions having lived with bipolar disorder and she turned around and told me what felt like "you're not worth my time outside of paid appointments."

I would have stopped seeing her, but didn't really have a choice since insurance was covering my visits at almost 90%. So I stuck with her until our insurance changed and I was forced to find a new doctor. I was lucky enough to find a very good one whose office is only 5 minutes from our house.

We talked about my mood during today's visit and I admitted I've had some hypomanic periods over the past two months, but they are manageable. I always have a good sense of awareness about my moods and when I feel an elevated period, I know that I need to get more sleep and nap when the kids nap. I take Ambien if my mind is still buzzing when I know it's bedtime. I'm also fortunate in that my husband stays on top of things too and encourages me to get rest when he knows I need it. We work as a team to keep me healthy and I like that.

My doctor and I discussed the recent news of the Kony 2012 movement and how Jason Russell, the filmmaker who was the voice of the campaign, was recently hospitalized in California under a 5150 psychiatric hold. He was trying to raise awareness about a horrible war that was going on which most Americans probably knew absolutely nothing about until news of the viral video his organization created hit the evening news. When I first watched the video two weeks ago, I'll be the first to admit, I was kindof shocked by the message of "Making Joseph Kony famous". But then it hit me. What better way to slap the world in the face to get them to realize how much shear devastation this one person has caused to so many innocent children? The campaign had a call to action too. They want to get the word out to have Kony arrested and put to justice. By the end of the 30-minute video I was a follower. I even shared it on my Facebook wall, encouraging my friends to watch it.

And then the story broke on Friday about Jason's detainment by police after he was found naked on the streets shouting obscenities and pounding the pavement with his hands. The first thing I did was remove the share post of the Invisible Children Kony 2012 campaign from my Facebook wall.

How incredibly narrow-minded and judgmental of me to act in such haste. I immediately didn't want to be associated with the guy just because he had suffered a public mental breakdown? Wow. Talk about needing to have an introspective weekend.

All I could do was think back, all weekend long, about how his story has some similar characteristics to my own. Not nearly on the same scale, of course, but in small part, similar. At the time of my first psychotic episode, I was under a great deal of stress from my career and the goals management had set for me in the coming year, in addition to being in the midst of an emotional affair with a co-worker and mid-way through building a brand new single-family house with my husband. Talk about having a lot on my plate.

I feel so blessed to have had the support I did when I went through that most trying time of my life (and theirs, I'm sure.) My husband did not abandon me, my parents and in-laws wrapped their arms around me in support, and my closest friends were there to listen to what I was going through whenever I needed to talk. I was so lucky that I didn't have to suffer in the public eye like Jason is right now.

I'm sure there were things said behind my back by people wondering what the heck was going on with me. But I didn't have to read about it online or hear about it on the news like his friends and family are doing right now. I pray that they don't read or hear the negative words being thrown about on the Internet and news talk shows, and that if they do, that it only strengthens their defense for him and their efforts to help him get well. I'm praying for him. He's done so much good work. He does not deserve all the hate. Not one bit of it.

I am not proud of my initial reaction to what happened to him. I wanted to write about it here to help teach myself, someone who suffers from a mental illness which caused four psychiatric hospital stays, not to turn my back on someone because they are going through a trying time. Let this be a learning experience to myself and the other 83 million people who watched the video. Don't turn away because I believe that some people come into our lives as blessings, and others come into our lives as lessons.

In writing my blog posts, I'm not planning on going in chronological order, because that would be kind of boring, don'tcha think? The first half is about my first two hospitalizations which occurred within two weeks of each other and were before it was determined that I was Bipolar. The second half details my second two hospitalizations which occurred after the birth of my first child and during the first trimester of my second pregnancy.

However, I do think that it would be helpful to give a quick little summary in order to kick-off the launch of my blog, so here goes. Back at the end of 2005 I suffered my first mental break when I became manic beyond belief and had to be taken via ambulance, screaming and strapped down to a stretcher I might add, to the hospital because my poor husband had no clue whatsoever as to what was happening to me. I had barely slept a wink that entire week and it all came to a head on Sunday night. Two nights in the psych ward, a week off from work to recoup, my first visit to a shrink who attributed the entire episode to sleep deprivation and told me I could discontinue the Risperdal I was taking, and yes folks, believe it or not, I was back at work the following week.

Two weeks later when I relapsed and suffered another manic episode, it was clear that something really was wrong with me and it wasn't just sleep deprivation. But with no real history of mental illness in our family, we didn't know where to start to begin seeking answers. My parents spoke with some close friends of theirs who were able to find a recommendation for a psychiatrist in Florida and got me an appointment while I was there with my husband visiting over Christmas. Spending Christmas Day and the two days after in another psych ward was not my idea of a holiday. In fact, that Christmas was probably one of the worst days, if not the worst, day of my life.

After emerging from that second hospitalization, and sitting down for just an hour with the psychiatrist we were referred to, he was able to determine that there was a very strong likelihood that I was suffering from Bipolar Disorder and that I needed to start taking an anti-psychotic medication immediately to bring me down from the mania that I was still apparently experiencing. That evening I began taking Zyprexa.

Once back in Virginia and back at work, I started having anxiety attacks on an almost daily basis. The feeling of waves of panic coming over my body were so intense that it became impossible for me to be effective at work. I was forced to resign from my job as a successful employment agency recruiter and in turn felt like I had lost part of my identity. Crying spells then became part of my daily routine, in combination with the anxiety, and I remember wondering if I were going to be feeling that way for the rest of my life. It was a scary time for me. I don't ever want to go back to that. Ever.

I remember back in the fall of 2006 when I was incredibly against going on Lithium, but yet, at my wits end with the way I was feeling I was ready to give in and try anything with the even the slightest probability of helping me feel like my old self again. For pretty much the entire year I had been depressed and anxious and thus I had reached a turning point. My psychiatrist at the time had been suggesting Lithium for a few months, but it just seemed so final, so imperative. But who was I kidding? It was obvious to the three different shrinks I had seen, one being a renowned specialist in the field, that I was bipolar and that a mood stabilizer was what I ultimately needed to function at a normal level.

So fine. I caved into going on a Lithium regimen the day after my husband and I had a consultation with the specialist. He didn't even see patients any longer, only did continuing research in the field. So when my dad's friend was able to get us an appointment as a favor, we jumped at the chance. At the time I was on Prozac and Zyprexa, along with Ativan for anxiety and Ambien for sleep. Nice cocktail of meds, right? The Prozac caused some suicidal thoughts, though nothing I ever remotely was going to act on. So my doctor had cut that dose back quite a bit. After seeing the specialist I started on Lithium and my regular doctor began to wean me off the Prozac and Zyprexa one at a time until I was eventually just on Lithium.

Within a matter of four months I found myself feeling like the old me again. I was ready for a fresh start and finally felt more confident. It was what I needed in order to launch a job search and in a few short weeks I landed a job as a corporate recruiter for a Fortune-500 company and I couldn't wait to get started.

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