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I want to start out by saying I'm not stuck in self loathing and depression - just having a bad day where I miss the dreams I had before accepting and being diagnosed as bipolar. If any one would like to jump in and have a post of self pity, have your way.


I wanted to be a Navy SEAL, a state trooper, or some kind of Agent. I worked hard all through school, stayed in extreme shape, and clear of trouble so that I would have the best shot possible. I'm a master marksmen and have a love for firearms that my family instilled and taught to me. (please no anti-gun or pro-gun talk, this isn't about firearms) But in a moment of acceptance in a P. Dr.'s office it was all stripped away. 


My wife as lovely as she is and as understanding as she impressively is it makes both of us sad when she can't grasp whats going on inside me.  I've been med's for a few years and my life is WAY better now than ever thanks to them but some aspects still remain and affect my life from time to time. When they do it's hard for my wife to understand which is totes understandable. 


Obviously being bipolar affects us all and our loved ones in all kinds of ways. Many wayyyyy worse than mine and I'm not trying to be all poor poor me. Just wanted to take a moment and grab a virtual beer with some fellow bp's! (is that a thing? bp's?)

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I've been married 21 years on Jan 30.  I've only been diagnosed for 6 months.  My husband still thinks I was fine the way I was and just stop taking the medicine, etc, etc, etc.  It's maddening.  He told my tdoc that he couldn't "read" me anymore, couldn't figure me out.  So, yeah, I can relate to spousal issues.  


It's really funny that he wants the old me back but admits in therapy sessions that everything is better now and "I just don't know why".  :: rolling my eyes ::  

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I had lots of dreams that were stripped away from me.  I just threw a pity party for myself today, after my pdoc appointment.  My DH was a sweet listening ear; I think this was the first time he's started to fully comprehend what I've gone through. 


I *wish* I had stayed away from trouble like you.  When stable, I got straight As and wanted to go to med school.  When manic, I was a trouble magnet.  Ah well. 


Here I am and I'm not a doctor but I like my life.  Success comes in a million flavors, right?

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Welcome, I can relate a lot. I haven't finished any of my degrees I've started, after working so hard at them for years. I was actually signed up for the Army Reserves back in 2002 while I was still in high school, after I was already diagnosed as Bipolar. We were planing to send me off to basic training off of all of my meds. I don't know why anybody thought this was a good idea. I'd already been hospitalized at age 16 for almost a month.


Once I began to realize what a poor decision I'd made by spring of 2004, my senior year, I had my ship date for basic and everything...I broke my foot. My foot dr signed a note saying I was physically unfit for basic training and I got out. I wanted the structure of the Army, I wanted to stay fit, I wanted the money for college, I was in the reserve band and I wanted to continue playing my instrument after high school (I knew myself well, I haven't picked it up int years). But these things just didn't pan out as a person with mental illness (I lied about my entire medical history to get into the Army in the first place, which I was told by my recruiter to do. Again...what was I thinking??). 


I'm glad you have a supporting wife, that's great for those of us with mental illness. A solid support system can be essential in staying well. 

Edited by vacillate_wildly
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I'm sorry. Life seems to have sent us a faster curve balls than are usual. It's okay (probably necessary) to grieve for the life you wanted or expected. Hopefully, over time, you can begin to accept that your life is different than you thought it would be, but you can still have a good life. It is wonderful that you have a supportive spouse. I don't know where I'd be without my husband.


I was going to be a super-duper Death Penalty public defender over here. I can't even imagine having the energy now.

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Hi, welcome, I'll pass on the beer, and I'll grab a virtual wine cooler instead. The Topamax makes beer taste weird.


I'm sorry about the Navy. Things can change so fast. There are other ways to help people, though, like sylvan said. Big blow. I know we all have those days, even non-MI people, where we think about what coulda been. I'm glad you have a supportive spouse. I'm also glad you're getting help and you've found this whacky bunch, us here. 


I'm also happy that you've accepted that you feel better medicated. Stick around, chat. You sound interesting, and like a very dedicated person, like someone a person would want on their side. I can bet you'll go somewhere in the positive direction. So, sit back, relax, and enjoy for now.

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I understand.


I shot Expert, was a PT stud (even was close to being a stud on the male PT scale), had the most promotion points of anyone in my career field in my entire brigade, was NCO of the quarter, was recommended to get into the ROTC program, even was competing in USAREUR boards... when the manias hit, it was all taken away from me. By the end of it, the NCO who took me on to get me through the discharge process literally said, you are the most hated person in this entire brigade and nobody else would take you on but me. They escorted me out the gate, and that was that. Nine years of honorable service, and I was thrown in the trash like a tool that was broken and completely worthless. 


It is really fucking hard. I was in the military or in the military life since I was 17 and I am 30 now. I don't know how long it takes for the feelings of betrayal and worthlessness to go away. I know that part of the challenge is definitely the feeling like even though you know your condition was exacerbated by your service to your country, and though you would have kept serving if you could, you feel like you don't even have the right to consider yourself a wounded warrior, and the whole thing is just like a frustrating secret, you can't be proud of it, you're somehow less than other vets.


My new doc encouraged me to view it as, I served honorably and even with an invisible, undiscovered 'handicap', and no matter how anyone else views it, I gave up everything for my country, even perhaps some of my mental stability, forever, as a sacrifice to my country.


So, basically, it boils down to, fuck 'em. I didn't serve to earn the respect of a bunch of assholes who disrespect my sacrifice, and who knows, karma is a bitch, maybe someday they may find themselves with issues like anxiety and PTSD, and maybe they themselves will have to analyze their narrow viewpoint of what Strength is, and what Sacrifice is.  


And the other thing is, we all exit the service someday. For us it was sooner than we wanted it to be, but the identity crisis happens one day or another! 


Hang in there, from one vet to another. Thank you for your service, ESPECIALLY as a vet with BP! I salute you <3



ETA - sorry, just saw that you were going to enlist and not pushed out. Message of support remains the same.

Edited by KnottyNikki
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