I had a late middle age bipolar 2 diagnosis that I feel is correct. It explains too much of my life.

The diagnosis came after being hospitalized. I had been on antidepressants for quite a few years for generalized depression that wasn't diagnosed for what it is. Partly because I was seen by a general practitioner, not a psychiatrist, and he simply didn't know what to look for. The antidepressants I was prescribed not only didn't help, as you note, but over time, they sent my depression into overdrive. Things got pretty scary. Getting off of them was the first step to climbing out to the place I'd found myself, and it was a very dark place.

The kind of reaction I had is not universal to bipolar 2 patients treated with antidepressants, it's actually uncommon, but when it does occur it can be dangerous. I know this first hand. So while I wouldn't say that they don't work for all bipolar 2 patients, for such patients who aren't getting better, or as in my case, going into steep decline, talk to a psychiatrist, Get a second opinion if need be. Don't let it slide like I did. I wound up in a very dangerous condition and had to go to the hospital. I'm fully convinced that if I hadn't gotten off of antidepressants when I did, I wouldn't be here now.

The good news is that, two years, after ceasing antidepressants, I've had none of the extreme symptoms that had overtaken my life during the last three or four years I was taking them. My psychiatrist placed me on lamictal, which has been very successful for me. I'm better mentally than at any time in my life, going all the way back to grade school (I was 59 when I started lamictal two years ago). There is hope.

My biggest takeaway having come out of a depression that came frighteningly close to ending my life is not just an empathy, but a deep regard for people with severe mental illness struggles. The worst of mine proved to be artificially driven, and I can't state in words how fortunate I feel for that. Most people aren't that lucky. Yet somehow they lift themselves out of bed every morning and push through their day. Given how ready I was to give up, I don't know how they do it for years and decades. But I did learn this: To those living with mental disabilities, you are NOT weak. Not even close. You are strong. You have endured. Some simply cannot go on any further, but even that isn't weakness. We all have out breaking points. I came very close to reaching mine. But try to never view yourself as weak. You have power most people never even have to try to find within themselves. My only wish is that it can sustain you.