Not really LDR related, but this is burning my butt.

I've been with the same psychiatrist for just about 2 years, about 4 months after my breakdown my junior year of high school that had me miss the last 3 months and fail. She's the second psychiatrist I've been to. My first only lasted a month, a Middle Eastern gentleman who preferred I not talk when he saw me and when I became difficult to diagnose and give working pills to (mind this was before I was diagnosed as bipolar and giving anti-depressants to a bipolar sufferer makes them worse) he called the hospital and told them to prepare a bed in the psych ward for me. I'm not even sure how I got out of there without being put in a straightjacket. I had a panic attack and all I remember is my mom telling them she wanted to get me some lunch first. Anyway, slowly slowly I've begun to hate this woman. For whatever reason on God's green earth I seem to invite the opinion that I'm 12 and not 20 and that I'm stupid. Hell even the State of Louisiana stamped me as mentally ******ed and I went through most of high school with a 4.0 GPA. What the hell. Point being, it leaked into my psychiatrist's brain.

About a year ago I was put on a pill called Lamictal, which is designed for people with epilepsy but, somehow, can also help "increase periods of time between" depression in those with Bipolar I. I have Bipolar II, but apparently some drugs are ok to split between the two. They start you off with a starter pack where every week/2 weeks you're upping the dose you take daily until you reach the average dose number by the end of the month. The first time I took it I didn't reach the month because I knew it wasn't working. Got yelled at, so let's try again from the top. Yeah, no... nothing. No, no you're not TRYING. Ok ok, again. Stayed on it for a few months, was seeing no change so I asked to be taken off. Off all of a month before I went back and she claims she never took me off of it (she forgets to write notes) so again I'm on it whether I like it or not. In this span of time I've been told to admit myself maybe 3 times while my pills get adjusted very rarely because I've apparently exhausted all their pill resources for 'people like me'. I stopped telling this woman my problems 6 months ago because I figured the pills could only go so far and I was pretty much destined to be this miserable 90% of the day.

I had a 3 month check up last Thursday, I mentioned that before where I thought she'd admit me because I was doing so bad, and what do I get? A nod, a "mhmm", and a "get a therapist it'll fix you." I've noticed a pattern for a while now. I ask my mom to sit in with me because sometimes I won't talk, if I'm doing badly I shut down verbally and she's around me 24/7 so she can at least give an observation. However, even if I go into detail on how I'm doing, what my problems are, she will not acknowledge this and turns to my mother and ASKS HER HOW I'M DOING. I thought at first this was just to get two sides to a story, but back in April when I had my disability appeal court date I had to get her records of me and I know you're not really supposed to look at them (it's not illegal, but it's just weird seeing such technical jargon about yourself) and there were two things that stuck out to me. One, she mentioned I was overweight 10 times in 2 pages like my weight has something to do with it all. Two, "does not admit to substance abuse." Maybe that's the legal way of saying that I said no when she asked if I do drugs, which I don't, but looking back it hits like she's calling me a liar. And really that's what it felt like Thursday. I lie therefore my mom must know what's REALLY going on.

So I told her I believed none of my pills were working and that I felt I had ADD and I wanted to be tested. She latches onto the latter and asks me if I feel x symptom and after saying yes to most (I do my research people, I don't self-diagnose but I want to know if there's a possibility) she tells me I probably don't have it but since I'm not in school and don't have a job, she won't test me. Why? Because I'm not doing anything productive so it's useless to decide whether or not the fact I will literally wander off in public if I see something shiny (kid you not) is me having ADD or me being an idiot. That made me mad considering I've never been an easy "fix" with pills. She wants to wait until I'm in a stressful environment where I NEED my attention span to play what I call "the pill game", which is throwing different pills at me and seeing which one works. After that she basically tells me all she's doing is doubling my Lamictal since all she got out of my words was "Depressed" and that I HAD to start therapy since apparently talking about my problems is soooo much better than pills. Translation: you're aggravating, the therapist can listen to your whining and tell me what to give you. I don't like therapists. Why? Because every last one I've seen just eats up the knowledge my father sexually, verbally, and emotionally abused me basically rendering me defunct in a lot of ways that are going to come up in my relationship. It's like the Holy Grail to those people. Oh yay, a chick with "daddy issues"!

I decided then I'd had enough of being disrespected so I looked up the numbers of other psychiatrists in the city that took medicare and were female. Unfortunately it left me with 5, one of the 5 being her. So 4. I'd already had my pills for the week made up so the new Lamictal wasn't put into action until Monday morning. Big mistake. Within the hour I had a small fever and my mood was wavering like an unsure compass needle, but tended to hit the direction of ANGER frequently. I was gritting my teeth, my ears and face were red, and within 3 hours I was ready to fall over. I looked up the side effects and there were about 17 of the "Get off it now" side effects and I had 6. 23 normal side effects, I had 11. Had HAD 11 since the start, but they were so small that you can't link them with a pill right away. Plus, y'know, you're never told the side effects. At least I wasn't. I started calling places and every last one isn't taking new patients until September, and I simply cannot wait that long. I pleaded with several, one even offered me a male doctor but when I expressed why I needed a FEMALE doctor I just got a snotty "well it would get you in a month sooner." My mother, again, has lost all want of understanding my plight (this has gone on for years and she treats me like an unruly child when I get into fits I cannot help) and wanted me to go back to my psychiatrist and explain how the pill made me feel. EXPLAIN WHAT? She won't listen. My mom defends her so heavily because she treats my mom nicely (my mom has PTSD from my dad too and mild depression) yet even in the room with me she can't or won't see how mistreated I am.

God and people wonder why I freak out about when Hattie and I meet and live together. It'll be a miracle if I don't lose him because of my conditions and the poor way they're being handled.