MIA #2: Behind the Scenes

Since I've been open and honest with everything else, I might as well be honest with this, right? Be prepared because this is a long one. Longer than usual, I should say since most of my posts are long anyway.

Before I start, I just want to say that this is something that I'm still struggling with the fact that it happened and the fact that I'm still not feeling like myself anymore.

Thursday night, I left school around nine to drive the forty miles home. Walking through the parking lot  towards my car, I suddenly felt depressed. This new feeling weighed me heavily as I drove home. One moment, I'm lost in my thoughts and the next, I lose my mind. At least, it felt that way. A diesel carrying eighteen wheeler was coming my way and I had this strong urge to take my car into the next lane and hit it head on as my car sped up. My first serious suicidal thought ever. With the snap of my fingers, I was ready to kill myself, or harm myself at the very least.

It took everything I had not to hit that truck and to let it pass my by; a missed opportunity, as I saw it then. Shaken, I drive to my Grandma's (I was staying there that night), being more cautious than ever to be safe. Once there, I went to the front porch to sit instead of going inside. I was going to think this through and see what the hell was going on. I hadn't had thoughts like that since I was having severe anxiety attacks back in 2011. I never took it seriously either. That's what scared me the most. I was wanting to do this. I was serious about it.

I was terrified.

My sister happened to be sitting on the porch and asked what was wrong. I told her everything I just told you. We agreed that this was something I would bring up to my doctor when I saw him the next day. I wouldn't be able to handle feeling that way for longer than that time period. It was all I could think about on the ride home and while I was sitting on the porch. How I just wanted to crash my car and hurt or kill myself.

On the way to the doctor, I attempted it three more times. I did not want to do it, but it was as if I couldn't control my body. My foot became heavy as I reached speeds up to 90 on old back roads. My hands wanted to move the steering wheel towards a woody forest to make my car turn into a pretzel. Or to swerve into the wrong lane and hit an eighteen wheeler.

Once I told my psychiatrist, he was clearly taken aback by this because this was new for me and without second thought, he shipped me over to the hospital to be admitted to the psychiatric unit, where I stayed until yesterday.

Talk about depressed. I cried the first three days I was there and had some crazy mood swings. The thoughts disappeared as I was being held in this prison-like place. When my medication changed, I started feeling a bit better, but would have crying episodes where I cried suddenly for no clear reason. My meds changed again. Everything improved and my diagnosis changed from major depression to bipolar disorder due to antidepressant medication.

Basically, I'm on antidepressants for depression and anxiety. (Supposedly, this med helps anxiety too.) Because I'm on an antidepressant, it causes me to be bipolar, which is why I'm on another medication to treat the disorder. But I need to be on an antidepressant. At least for now. I'm going to see a new psychiatrist and who knows what she will do. That's what the doctors decided was wrong with me. The way it was explained is that sometimes antidepressants work too well or too fast and cause side effects, like the bipolar disorder. Otherwise, I'm only bipolar if I'm on an antidepressant.

So that's why I was MIA. I'm back home now and I don't feel as giddy as before, which is why I call my new med the Happy Pill because it makes me extremely happy all the time, but not today. We'll see how tomorrow goes. I get to see my therapist, so I'm excited about that. Anyways, one good thing that came from being in the psych ward is that I met new friends, helped others, and got an idea for a book!

That's my story and it's sticking to me.