Jen's Story

Hi All. My name is jen and I'm 27 years old. My epic saga (thats what it feels like most of the time) started when I was diagnosed w/ depression when I was like I dont know, 14? I started seeing a counselor who divulged all my secrets and issues with my parents without informing me ahead of time. I had a hell of a time growing up, due to my bully sister and my mom's mental health (I still dont know what her diagnosis is). During her most outrageous years she insisted that the family was receiving subliminal messages from aliens and that some drug cartel was after my father. It was rough keeping friends for long. I finally found a clique when I was about 15, comprised of mainly skater guys, all of whom I had crushes on at one point in time. High school was a miserable time for me. I just found one screw up-dirtbag after another who abused me sexually, physically or mentally. Despite my skater-boys I dreaded every day. When I got the opportunity to graduate a semester early, I jumped.

I started college 1500 miles from home and lasted all of six weeks in Florida. The following summer was hellish, as I took a job as a counselor at a residential camp for disabled people - young and old. I made a few friends that summer, but then outta the blue the s&#$ hit the fan. One of the other counselors asked to borrow my car for his day off - it was a rare treat to get off the camp ground for a whole day. Well, he totaled my car. After some hassels my insurance paid the claim and he had to pay back my parents for out of pocket expenses.

A few weeks later I was attending school in Colorado - a dream for me- when my bubble burst again. My sister called one afternoon and asked that counselors name. When I told her she started sobbing. That guy, "Rick", had broken into my parents house while Dad was at work, and Mom was still asleep and tied my mother up, raped her and left her naked, tied to a support pole in the basement. He ransacked my home, hell bent on recovering the money he had paid to my parents for the accident. I lost my shit. My friend and comrade had betrayed me. Despite the differences between me and Mom, she means the world to me. I was out for blood. As it turns out an officer picked him up just 100 feet from his house, carrying my moms credit cards and splattered with her blood. After some difficulties with the trail, he is now serving a sentence of 17 to 35 years.

One of my "boys" made sure he got his in prison.

Over Christmas break, Justin, (my boy) and I fell into bed on the night of my birthday. About six weeks later, back at school, I found out I was pregnant. After a lot of discussion, we decided that adoption was the best route. Despite what people think, it was probably the easiest decision I have ever made. I was about 16 week along when I learned that my parents health insurance would not cover me while I was in Colorado. I had to give school up mid semester and move home.

Yay for post partum depression. That September I began the new semester at my third college, which was close to home, and took only two weeks off for the birth of my son. I started with a new counselor through school who decide to try me on Prozac. Two months later I lost another two weeks due to an appendectomy. Over Christmas break my 'happy pills' took full effect. I dont have an accurate list of the different drugs I tried or the different guys I slept with. Most of my time was spent at a rave club doing ecstacy. That January I nearly died from an overdose of ecstacy (I think) I spent the better part of the night convulsing in a friends car. I've been clean of street drugs since.

March 1997- I had my first definition manic break. I went to Atlantic City with a few friends for three days. Within 45 minutes of checking in at the hotel I had gambled ALL of my cash, leaving me nothing to use for food, the hotel or gas. I had to rely on my friends to get me through. I dont gamble anymore.

I met my best friend at school that year and it's only because of him that I can consider myself sane. We dated for 2 1/2 years, and he saved my life at least three times. He He sat by my side that April when I was forced to choke down charcoal in the ER. He was my only reason to return to school and earn my degree (BA 2001). It was his shrink who thought I might be BP. So I went searching for a shrink I liked. I refused the lable of BiPolar until September 2001, when I met my savior. She considered Lithium, which scared me silly. I had just heard too much negative stuff about it. "Luckily" I didnt have insurance and I couldn't afford the blood work. Eventually we landed on Neurontin, my miracle in a bottle. It turns out I am an ultra-rapid cycler, with up to 6 or 8 severe mood swings in a day, and neurontin has ironed most of them flat.

I have bounced from job to job, pretty typical. I've been at something 29 jobs since I was 16. It was November 2001 when I got it in my head that I wanted grad school. I began lazily studying for my GRE's and finally got around to taking them September 13 2002. When I saw the scores I sent them to the three top schools for archaeology, and Colorado, a middle ranked school. I only ever got around to applying to Colorado, making the dealine by 12 hours. But hey I got in. I left a good job and drove 2000 miles to to be here. Two of my boys were willing to drive a van full of my crap, all so I could achieve my dream. That was August.

Since then I have applied to like 35 or 40 places (+/-10) looking for a job. I have gotten ONE interview, and no job. My parents have been stuck paying my rent rather than make me give up on school, go homeless or starve. About two weeks ago, I found out that my dad had gone through almost all of his savings to let me stay out here. My grades have been mediocre, and one night of suicidal thought decided it for me. Colorado is not for me. It isnt worth all the heartache. School has been killing me, and I didnt realize it until it was almost too late. I have never contemplated suicide more often than I have in the past seven months. On bad night I called my parents and told them I was coming home. I have all but technically dropped out of school (Ineed the student insurance, and my counselor is really cool), and I am packing up teo months before my lease is up. And since that one really bad night, I have been able to sleep again, I dont dread the phone rining, and I know I can start working pretty much as soon as I move home.

When I talked to my counselor about all my troubles he started me on Zyprexa to help me sleep, and Lamictal for anxiety. I've noticed more 'up' (not quite manic) moods, and I can fall asleep without crying about my problems. I am taking the steps I need to take, and I feel GOOD. I am even lucky enough to have my boys coming to see me in May. They're going to help me pack and be there when the realization hits me in the chest.

Since my diagnosis I wear the word BiPolar like a badge of honor. I tell pretty much everybody I meet that I am 'certifiable'. If they freak, or even look at me funny I try to teach them that I probably won't pass it to them (:-O) and that most days they shouldn't even notice a difference. If they insist on being idiots about it, treating me like I'm a leper, I turn and walk away. It's their problem, not mine. I'm dealing with my problem. Talking about it, and being up front about it makes it easier for me to deal with on a personal level, instead of having it feel like a dirty little secret.

Since my diagnosis and meds, I have learned a great deal about myself. I learned it's easier to forgive than to carry around anger and hatred. I have been able to forgive "Rick" for attacking Mom. I have forgiven my rapist/boyfriend, and I have learned that Mom's issues are not and will not become, my issues. I have learned that I can never gamble again, not even scratch tickets. And I have learned that 'crazy' people like me are a damn lot stronger than people believe them to be.

Well, now you're current on my epic journey. Stay tuned for the sequel

Jennifer Rockhill