This is an attempt to document my previous mental health history. I wanted to have a timeline organized to provide myself with some sort of record of my teen years. I find it damn interesting of all the different diagnosis I was labeled with (legitimate or not) and the many types of prescriptions I've been on, and I believe it's a testament to how far I've come in the past 3 years. Two and a half years ago I was told that I would have to be on medication for the rest of my life. I was prescribed a strong pill that was used to treat schizophrenics. Fortunately, I have never been at risk for schizophrenia, but I think that prescription was indicative of the severity of problems I was going through at the time. In the time since, I've become a well-adjusted, pill-free, clear-headed, forward thinking, positive, rather normal individual. I wouldn't say that I enjoyed all the bullshit that I went through that led me to the road to finding myself, but I'm rather thankful to be this far advanced, or even to be here at all.
9th Grade- At the time, I was self-medicating with heavy doses of pharmaceuticals. I was severely depressed, homicidal, suicidal, and delusional. My parents recognized a problem pretty late in the ballgame, but took me to a doctor, who in return diagnosed me with clinical depression and prescribed me to a heavy dose of Zoloft. It mellowed me out for a while.
10th Grade- I was doing very poorly in school and my parents saw my rebellion towards them as a sign for my need to enter counseling. My counselor upgraded me to chronic depression and we then went on a little prescription testing scenario to see what would work best for me. He didn't realize how sensitive I am to medication. I was on Prozac for a week before I proclaimed to my mom that I was going to "kill every motherfucker I saw". That was my reaction to Prozac. Less than 5% of people taking the drug experience side effects consisting of unbelievable rage, irritability, and are at higher risk to commit suicide. I was then promptly placed on Paxil for the time being, but soon discovered the uncomfortable side effects of that pill as well. So I was back to Zoloft. Parallel to all the hoopla, I was at the beginning stages of hypochondria, and obsessive compulsive disorder.
11th Grade- In the fall I started developing more symptoms of hypochondria and obsessive-compulsive disorder. I was also sick with anemia, thanks to a poor diet. At the time, I thought I had a long lasting strain of mono. Finally my mom took me to see a doctor, who then suggested that I probably had leukemia. I freaked out for a week until I got the blood test results back. Asshole doctors. I spent most of my 11th grade without taking any prescriptions, however, my problems were only beginning. I developed a disorder that was later diagnosed as General Anxiety Disorder. The symptoms involved worsened every month until I started having panic attacks multiple times a day. At the time I had no clue what was going on with me. I just knew I was in a crisis and had no clue how to escape it. While hypochondria and OCD settled in, I started to develop a non-specific eating disorder. In the spring I was put on Effixor, but settled for my mom's Zyban- a more mild medication.
12th Grade (1st year)- Shit really started to hit the fan by this point. My best friend moved away, and it seemed to trigger a severe depression, and it exacerbated my previous problems with anxiety related issues. By the wintertime, I had developed a full blown bleeding ulcer, which I contribute to a poor diet, stress, and anxiety. My phobia of throwing up and the ulcer cemented the eating disorder, and led to full blown OCD and a state of hypochondria. I wasn't taking medication for mental problems, which proved to be a costly error. I didn't want to take anything that would upset my stomach. My fear of vomiting infiltrated every faction of my life. This was coupled with intense nausea (from the ulcer) that never subsided for one second for a whole year. By the end of the school year, I was ready to off myself from all the physical and mental trauma I was experiencing. I had to take a Prev-Pak, Previcid and Prilosec for stomach problems, but none of them worked.
12th Grade (2nd year)- I had to go a fifth year of school because I missed too many days the previous couple years. Also, I didn't care about classes, therefore, I didn't strive to achieve passing grades. Anyhow, besides the prevailing stomach issues, things were looking better for me. I was enjoying a good social life, and looking forward to the future. But my body was beginning to fail from the persistent neglect. The time leading up to Christmas, I was living on rice, bread, and water. One morning I woke up as sick as I had ever been in my life, and I was experiencing the most pain I had ever endured up to that point. I laid on the couch to stabilize myself, but I kept throwing up blood and a black substance (h. pylori bacteria). After 10 hours of worsening conditions, I called my grandpa to take me to the emergency room. When I got there, I was severely dehydrated and was in critical condition. They gave me large doses of Valium and fluids to hydrate me. I stayed in the hospital for over 3 days, with an IV in my arm because I couldn't keep food down. What had made me sick was a stomach virus that led to an infection in my stomach. I was on so much medication that I kept pissing myself. Thankfully they never gave me a catheter. An in hospital counselor incorrectly diagnosed me with bi-polar disorder and I was prescribed Celexa and Risperdal. Once I came out of the hospital, I had to endure combining heavy doses of an upper and a downer at the same time. It was hell. At the beginning of the year, I went in for a scope of my stomach and found that I hadn't had an ulcer for at least a half year. It was bizarre, because I had to deal with the fact that it was my mind that was keeping me sick that whole time. At the same time, I started a relationship with a girl that would develop into my first love. It lasted two months, and I didn't take things very well.
Post school- By the summer I had the roots set for a disassociative reaction. I was in a severe depression and exhibiting bizarre behavior. When my mother passed away, I experienced post-traumatic stress syndrome. This event led to Major depression, and I had developed a full-blown disassociative reaction (formally known as split-personality disorder). This was accompanied by a psychotic feature and the most bizarre and terrible symptoms you could imagine. I saw a psychiatrist and then made bi-weekly visits to a local psychologist. I was put on Xanax, and Celexa, to help alleviate my symptoms. I tried to check myself into a mental home but there was no fucking room at the state ward. I also had to go through hypnosis during counseling sessions. Nothing was working and I developed agoraphobia, and was the most suicidal I'd ever been. Some days I didn't get out of bed. Recognizing the problem, my counselors put me on heavy doses of Remeron and Risperdal. They seemed to do the trick, and around January I started pulling myself out of all the shit I was going through. I was still experiencing some symptoms of the health issues, but the move to my aunt's house in Watford City, ND, helped me to get beyond the past. I went through more counseling and was put on Geodon, a new drug used for schizophrenics. Even though I didn't take much of the drug, I kept improving by leaps and bounds. By the time I moved to Bismarck, the only issue I was dealing with was learning social skills all over again. I went through a little bit more counseling, but only to talk myself into working towards the future. The years of depression, constant state of being suicidal, the anxiety issues, and split personality stuff all went away on its own. It's been over 2 years since I've had any problems and the only thing that has lasted this long is the fear of vomiting.
So there it is, my psychological history for everyone to see. I acknowledge the fact that some people will see me as a psycho after reading all of this. However, I think it speaks volumes about how teens are treated in America. Parents are more reserved to take a pro-active interest in their kids' lives, for whatever reasons. Its too easy to take them to a shrink and put them on meds. Complex interpersonal issues are labeled and diagnosed, and the solution lies in a pill. Prescriptions helped stabilize me at certain times when I needed it, but they never helped me move past my problems. Perhaps pills aren't the solution. Counseling helped to alleviate my worries for a short time, but my mental status was always in decline. So how did I pull through all of these problems, you may ask? By always wanting to improve myself and to become a better person. I always wanted to overcome my problems, not let them destroy me. It was hard, but staying positive and having faith in myself usually made a volatile situation better. You have to want to help yourself, and that's what I did. I always amazed my counselors because I never whined about my problems. I always tried to find solutions or reasoning behind my problems. No pill in the world can do that.