...Okay, if I may give a brief history of myself? Ahem, ahem...
I have struggled with mental illness all of my life; my own, my mother's, my sibling's. About ten years ago, my illness became so severe that I landed in the hospital for the first time. I was only kept for a few hours despite being actively suicidal, but the evaluating psychiatrist in the county hospital recommended that I go home and seek therapy on my own as the psyche unit in that hospital would probably be a bit too intense for me (the unit primarily serves patients who are severely psychotic), and also since we did not have health insurance at the time, I would only run up a very big debt.
So I went home and did my best to forget the whole scenario. A few months later, I went to our family doc and explained to him that I was depressed and suicidal, and would he kindly prescribe me some of those anti-depressants I had heard about. He threatened to have me committed to the state hospital. I begged him to reconsider, and he gave me a few weeks worth of Prozac while extracting the promise from me that I would search out a psychiatrist. Yeah, sure, whatever...
A few weeks later, I did actually attempt suicide and I then was pressured to find a psyche-doc. This was the best turn of luck that had ever happened to me, for I contacted a psychiatrist who has sense helped me to heal in so many ways.
Now, for those of your who are still reading, I have been working with Dr. L for almost ten years now, and we have made great strides in my illness. For the past two years, I have been officially labeled as "Permanantly Mentally Disabled." I have been recieving Medical and Social Security, but I want to be more than my diagnosis. I discussed returning to school to get a degree in psychology with Dr. L and he says that he has been angling towards that direction for a long time. He believes that I will be a great therapist despite my Major Depressive Disorder, My Anxiety/Panic Disorder, and Dissociative Identity Disorder. Really, it has been my dream to be a therapist who works primarily with teenagers and young adults ever since forth grade. I love teenagers! It would be such an honor to help them grow and learn. Dr. L says I would be a fantastic therapist, and I believe him.
BUT, and a very big but that is, I don't always have control over what others inside will do. I once had a job as a secretary in a mortgage brokers agency where one of my people inside grew so angry with one of my bosses that she jumped out and said "F*** you, B****!" Well, the truth was, that boss was a f***ing b****, but that didn't change the fact that I was fired. Then later on I was a barista at Starbuck's (Great place to work, wonderful environment, great management, outstanding benefits package), but on a very busy morning where one of the other baristas didn't show up, and my boss and I were the only ones there, I became so overwhelmed that someone inside popped out and cut in the back room of the place. I have had other experiences such as these, though they weren't nearly as dramatic, but it makes me leary of actually putting myself at risk by going back to college.
Anyway, I would appreciate to hear anyone's thoughts on this, especially in how to tell that I have reached a point where I no longer have to fear what people inside might do. Thanks in advance.
Allegro
I have struggled with mental illness all of my life; my own, my mother's, my sibling's. About ten years ago, my illness became so severe that I landed in the hospital for the first time. I was only kept for a few hours despite being actively suicidal, but the evaluating psychiatrist in the county hospital recommended that I go home and seek therapy on my own as the psyche unit in that hospital would probably be a bit too intense for me (the unit primarily serves patients who are severely psychotic), and also since we did not have health insurance at the time, I would only run up a very big debt.
So I went home and did my best to forget the whole scenario. A few months later, I went to our family doc and explained to him that I was depressed and suicidal, and would he kindly prescribe me some of those anti-depressants I had heard about. He threatened to have me committed to the state hospital. I begged him to reconsider, and he gave me a few weeks worth of Prozac while extracting the promise from me that I would search out a psychiatrist. Yeah, sure, whatever...
A few weeks later, I did actually attempt suicide and I then was pressured to find a psyche-doc. This was the best turn of luck that had ever happened to me, for I contacted a psychiatrist who has sense helped me to heal in so many ways.
Now, for those of your who are still reading, I have been working with Dr. L for almost ten years now, and we have made great strides in my illness. For the past two years, I have been officially labeled as "Permanantly Mentally Disabled." I have been recieving Medical and Social Security, but I want to be more than my diagnosis. I discussed returning to school to get a degree in psychology with Dr. L and he says that he has been angling towards that direction for a long time. He believes that I will be a great therapist despite my Major Depressive Disorder, My Anxiety/Panic Disorder, and Dissociative Identity Disorder. Really, it has been my dream to be a therapist who works primarily with teenagers and young adults ever since forth grade. I love teenagers! It would be such an honor to help them grow and learn. Dr. L says I would be a fantastic therapist, and I believe him.
BUT, and a very big but that is, I don't always have control over what others inside will do. I once had a job as a secretary in a mortgage brokers agency where one of my people inside grew so angry with one of my bosses that she jumped out and said "F*** you, B****!" Well, the truth was, that boss was a f***ing b****, but that didn't change the fact that I was fired. Then later on I was a barista at Starbuck's (Great place to work, wonderful environment, great management, outstanding benefits package), but on a very busy morning where one of the other baristas didn't show up, and my boss and I were the only ones there, I became so overwhelmed that someone inside popped out and cut in the back room of the place. I have had other experiences such as these, though they weren't nearly as dramatic, but it makes me leary of actually putting myself at risk by going back to college.
Anyway, I would appreciate to hear anyone's thoughts on this, especially in how to tell that I have reached a point where I no longer have to fear what people inside might do. Thanks in advance.
Allegro
