In my earlier posts, I describe how my mother, a psychiatrist and MSbP perpetrator, first treated me as a child for “Lyme disease” (which I must mention again, I may or may not have had it; I don’t really remember) and later switched to her insisting I have “bipolar disorder”.
Mom Dopes me up with a Bipolar Cocktail
My mother couldn’t tolerate me standing up to her for any reason. I never felt that I had bipolar disorder and her labeling me as such upset and angered me. Perhaps as a means to control my rebellious behavior I was medicated. Typically, people with bipolar disorder are treated with a mood stabilizer (either lithium, the natural salt on the periodic table, or Depakote, a synthetic drug) plus an anti-psychotic (to reduce hallucinations and other psychotic symptoms). In the regimen I remember being given was a hammer: 1,000 mg of Depakote, and 500 mg of Seroquel, which for anyone familiar with the drug, knows that could knock a horse out!
It makes sense that I don’t remember much, because Seroquel, a strong antipsychotic that has been implicated in being over-prescribed and leading to death of elders in nursing homes, is like a coma in a pill. I remember when I first took it feeling so intoxicated; everything was too bright, and I was so tired! This regimen of Depakote and Seroquel left me with constantly shaking hands, and solidified the stigmatized status I was forced to adopt. I had the scarlet letter “S” for sick, “D” for disturbed (or whatever you want to call it), and the fact that I had to be on the meds confirmed it. I was crazy!
Depakote, Seroquel and OxyContin
In reality, I don’t remember things changing too much after starting on this cocktail, but my mother thought I was doing better when I was on it, so I guess that proved, yet again, that I was mentally ill. I suppose that I was so drugged out I could be more complacent and acquiece to her demands and raging moods.
I remember never really accepting the fact that I was bipolar. I mean, I was nothing like my mother (who had bipolar disorder), and I always thought she was projecting her diagnosis unto me, but who was I to say? I was the pre-teen who didn’t get along with her mother and she was the distinguished psychiatrist, so I was the bad girl. I needed to shut up and take my medicine and stop fighting with my mom. Although, in reality, what I didn’t know at the time was that she was under investigation for all those OxyContin prescriptions she wrote for Lyme disease, and I’m sure other inappropriate indications, to treat her family and patients (see my earlier posts).
So, the “bad girl” was finally cooperating and taking her medicine, which was, in retrospect, toxically poisoning me. I did not anticipate what would come next, which were unneeded psychiatric hospitalizations, which I will describe in my next post.
Cleaning out “our” Closet…?
My mom loved Eminem. I have a vivid recollection of her listening to him, and me hearing the song, “Cleaning out my Closet” in which Eminem mentions his own mother having MSbP. I felt like I could totally relate with that song and began to wonder if that was what my mother had, but I digress…
Interested in cold case murders that eventually get solved?
Image by Wellcome Images.