I left out the hospitalization at Johns Hopkins Affective Disorders Unit in 1994. They bothered to send me there (because my husband was involved. That was the story with my MH treatment. After i got married i received treatment where before that i was ignored.)
But they couldnt allow that it was for my sake except insofar as it was a credit to them. That would mean i was “getting attention” which was strictly out of the question. The whole point of ny being there was to get a fresh shot at the diagnosis. They had a already decided what it was and wouldnt take no for an answer. To this day my father is incensed by the doctors dismissive attitude toward him. He had better luck with the second atternding physician, a woman and a Canadian, to whom he passed a “chivalrous” note “oh oh oh i am a gentleman in despair” saying i could not stay with them unless i was on a mood stabilizer. I had just saud something in the public hallway about his tryung ro touch my breast They wanted a diagnosis of manic depression because it includes psychosis but sounds very sympathetic. I didnt want it because it wasnt true. Well at that time that was what i would have said. Today i might accept it if ssomebody sat down with me and teased out that thread if my illness. These days doctors do that. To them it was a question of what it said to them i WASNT. I WASNT sexually abused, i wasnt dangerously deranged, my story about the sexual damage ironically happening twice, once in my childhood and then with the catheter in rhe ICU–which at that time still hung in an aura of unreality–all this was untrue.
So they gave me an antidepressant which.oh so desperately WORKED. I had to accept lithium “for manic depression” to not rock the boat. I cant tell the story of the lithium because its too long and depressing but i will say that i stopped taking it when i furst got out of tbe hospital. The anti depressant was WORKING. It was a MIRACLE. It takes that long to work. And lithium helps depression as well as the manic phase. I had bern sufferring from SERIIUS MAJOR depression for the second tjme in my life. But my mother didnt have tbe grace to acknowledge that this could be true, did not support me, was preoccupued with the final phases of my sisters court hearings of the man who shot her in the foot and didnt even remember my birthday.
The casualty here is my son. Flash forward to Maryland, few months later and i lost it.
“Who What When Where Why How! Wh am i Where am i What am i now!”
I handed my son to my mother. They took me from the townhouse screaming
I understand my mother was dealing with a lot, my father had had a minor stroke just after my son was born.