So I had my first appointment with my new psychiatrist yesterday and while I’ve met with a lot of psychiatrists over the years for the big kids and I’ve had quite a few of my own therapists I’ve never had my own psychiatrist. When I’ve received scripts for medications in the past they were from my general practitioner, sometimes at the advice of my therapists, and more recently from my OB. I’ve received diagnoses for Depression, PTSD and General Anxiety from therapists that were over seen by psychiatrists, but never have I sat down with one to talk specifically about me. It was interesting. And long.
I was sure that my appointment would only take 15 minutes so Regina sat in the car with the two little guys when I went in. Unfortunately my appointment was just short of 2 hours and the little kids weren’t happy to be in the truck for all that time. She handled it well though and kept them entertained and got them asleep. I felt so bad, but honestly I didn’t think it would take such a long time. I thought he’d just increase the milligrams of the Zoloft and I’d be on my way. Instead he did a whole session with me based on what he read from the therapist and we talked about my mental state from the time I was young up until now. My prize for such a long appointment? A new diagnoses. Yay. He said I am Bipolar 2 and that is the reason for the long standing depression I’ve had. I wasn’t surprised at all and I don’t think I even blinked but instead I thought to myself “great, the worst thing ever”.
I know that it isn’t the worst thing ever and it’s not so bad but come on. Another thing? Well, a different thing. I still have PTSD but the depression is bipolar 2. There is such a stigma around that diagnoses, like when I think of it I think super crazy person, like my ex’s sister in law from back in the day. She was nuts, like seriously wacky, but she was (I can only assume) bipolar 1. Not that I think badly of anyone who has that, she just was a little too much for me to take in. I guess I might be a little too much for people to take in though.
Anyway, he gave me an increase on the zoloft to help with the anxiety and maybe a little with the depression and a mood stabilizer to help with the depression, or mood or whatever. I told him I’d need to check with the pediatrician if I can take it because of breastfeeding. I was going to breastfeed until he turns one — 9 more months. I’ve lived like this up until now, 37, so what will 9 months do if I wait to take it? I did some research on the medication and there are mixed reviews, and the side effect of weight gain is a huge turn off. And urgh, sigh. I just want to feel normal but is this what I need?
After thinking about the whole diagnoses for a few hours I became pretty angry. Angry at my parents for not getting me help when it would have really helped. Angry that I hadn’t been diagnosed earlier in life. I mean, my whole life would have probably been so much different. I would probably have never got involved with ex, I probably could have done well in school. I probably would have had an easier time making and keeping friends, I could have been a better parent to the big kids. All of these things that I think about and stress me out and make me feel guilty.. Could they all have been prevented? Obviously if I didn’t meet my ex I wouldn’t have had the big kids and that’s not something I would have wanted. I love them to death and I know there couldn’t be any other way. But even if I had met him and had them I could have probably functioned so much better. So I’m angry and it’s easy to blame my parents even though it really isn’t their fault at all. It’s no ones.