I changed one of my medications after my heart attack because its really not good for the heart. My new medication was fine to start but then it started making me twitch...bloody hell . I can put up with a lot of things but having a non stop twitchy leg is enough to drive anyone crazy. Besides it made me look and feel like a freak too. In my wisdom I decided to just stop the tablets. That was great for a while . The twitching stopped and I felt ok. That's when I get complaisant and think I can cope without meds. Of course it then always turns to shit. I took a complete nosedive and ended up a snivelling wreck. I put myself back on the tabs and within three or four days I feel fine again. I find it frightening and very frustrating that I can't manage without one tiny little pill.I'll have to see if my psychiatrist can change it for something less twitchy....that's when the fun will start. They don't seem to realise that some of the side effects actually make things worse. If I end up not sleeping properly because I'm twitching , it's going to have a knock on effect. It seems pretty basic to me.
I've seen a few psychiatrists in my time. I'd like to think they know what they're doing but I'm sure a few are more batty than I am! Take the last woman I saw. For a start she looked like she'd been shoved through a hedge backwards. She seemed more nervous than I did and couldn't give me eye contact. She then wrote a report that was utter crap. When I get one like that I just pretend everything is ok. They normally try to mess about with my meds and bleat on about recognising the signs of relapse. I just smile sweetly , refuse any changes and hope my regular psychiatrist is back the next time. Of course if I'm feeling really bad it's not so easy. I suppose they can only go by what you tell them.
I like my usual psychiatrist. He listens to what I say. He still likes to try and muck about with my medication but he will be reasonable. I don't know what it is about psychiatrists and medication. They seem obsessed.
I guess I'd be in a real mess without help.
I consider myself one of the lucky ones with the help I get now. Once I was properly diagnosed I was assigned a care-coordinator . The first guy I had was amazing. He pretty much saved my life. He taught me how to manage my illness. He taught me everything I needed to know about being bipolar and he helped me get a life back.
I am lucky to have good healthcare but the reality is that when it boils down to it I have to take responsibility for myself and that's hard. No different to anyone else I suppose.