7.2.98--page 2

I was lucky it stopped before it hit me, but it was really close. I remember feeling dissociated, like it wasn't me doing it, as if I was watching from a distance. I was so out of it that after the car stopped, I just continued walking right back to school and to class. Two hours later, after things "sank in," I went to the school counselor. I told her what happened, got really afraid of what she would do with the info and ran out of her office.

I managed to finish school with very good grades and then was drafted into the Israeli army. At first, everything was going well. I finished basic training with honors and started a command course. But as the saying goes "every up has its downs" and boy, did I go down. I couldn't eat, sleep, think. I turned into a zombie, brain dead zombie, and not for the last time.

I got kicked out of the course and became something that's called in Hebrew "Pkida plugatit." The job is to take care after the soldiers in my unit. Man, I couldn't even take care myself. So after a rather short time, I shut down again and then was diagnosed as Borderline Personality Disorder. That's when I started meds.

I didn't want any help, I just wanted to be left alone. I was really depressed and suicidal. All I could think about was to get it all over with. But, people were looking after me so I couldn't go through with it. I was almost thrown out of the army, and even worse, there was talk about hospitalizing me. I fought hard not to let that happen and managed to see it through.

Towards the end of my service, things went all wrong again. I was feeling hyped up, nerves, angry, irritated. I couldn't sit for more than two seconds. I couldn't think, things where getting crazier-and-crazier. I was terrified. This was the first time I was manic, really manic. And for those of you who think it's fun - think again! It was a nightmare.

I felt like I was loosing control, and I was...but luckily for me, it was the end of my army service. I got discharged and things started to relax again.

After all that happened, studying psychology was the logical course for me. So I started college immediately. The first year was really good. I was in "remission," that is a break from the illness. I really thought it had gone away, but at the end of the year, it came back-- the restlessness, the anger. I dealt with it. But then I went into yet another depression. I broke down. Psych docs, meds, more meds and even more meds. Believe me, you can't appreciate normal life until you've taken some of them chemicals.

Even after the depression ended, the medications were still causing me to have panic attacks (Prozac); memory problems (benzodiazphins); concentration problems (Prozac+benz..); really bad hand tremors (Prozac+lithium). My coordination was gone, so was my balance. I was out of the depression but still in hell.

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