The Diagnosis

 Hi friends!


This week I will continue to share my story...my journey through mental health challenges. 


Today I will be very vulnerable. I’ll be sharing things that I tend to hold close to my chest because of the stigma they hold.   Some people may look at me differently, but I can honestly say that doesn’t matter to me. I’m tired of hiding. I want to step out, be bold, and hopefully help others to do the same. 


When I left off last week, my family and I had just moved back to Missouri after a really hard and lonely season in our lives. Like I mentioned, I was back on medication and things were good for awhile. We were happy to be back home, bought a house, got new jobs and Brandon started back to school at SBU. 


By the first part of 2006, I was feeling great!  I was happy...overly happy I had a ton of energy, a mind full of spectacular ideas and no sense of the fact that I was slowly getting out of control. I will give one small example of what I did. Once, I got the urge to shop for clothing... just for me. This may not seem like a big deal.  I mean we should do nice things for ourselves, right?  Well, we didn’t have the funds for me to go on a spontaneous shopping trip at that time. We had bills due and a 4 and 1 year old to take care of. That day, I spent hundreds of dollars...on only me...with no regard for anyone. I was spiraling. 


Then I crashed. 


The depression engulfed me heavy, dark, and fast. I think it felt even more hopeless, deep, and terrifying in contrast to the “high” I’d been on for about 6 months. I started thinking about death often. God seemed so absent and so far away. 


One night in September, Brandon and I had an argument. This “fight”, combined with the slippery pit of depression, that I was trapped in, made death seem like the best option. I remember standing at the bathroom sink looking at myself in the mirror. I opened the medicine cabinet, grabbed a prescription of sleeping pills and had the thought “Take them all!”  This scared me so much that I quickly slammed the bottle back in the cabinet and ran to bed, crying myself to sleep. 


The next day at my weekly counseling session, I told my counselor what had happened the night before. She said it was time to admit myself into a mental health facility so that I could get answers and help. I agreed and by that night I was being admitted into a facility 2 hours away from home. 


One day soon, I’ll write a post about my experience in a co-Ed mental health facility for adults. It was the most humbling experience of my life, but I’m also so thankful for it. 


On September 26th 2006, after a long interview with a extremely caring doctor, I was diagnosed with Bipolar II. 


This diagnosed brought me a sense of relief. It all made sense...the euphoric mania and crippling depression. 

And then came the dread...Bipolar!?!  People with Bipolar were crazy, right!?  I wasn’t crazy!  Was I crazy?


I spent a few days in that facility and I had such sweet fellowship with Jesus during that time. Brandon brought me my Bible and books and I spent all my free time soaking up His precious words. I came home to my family with a diagnosis and a new hope in my Savior. 


Little did I know, the path was getting ready to get very rough and very long. 


-Kassy

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