Personally I don't think calling CPS was a good thing. Contacting her therapist, possibly. But CPS, no.
It all boils down to the saying about how you can't help someone, if they're not willing to help themselves. You can only do so much for her, but you can't live her life for her. As much as you want, you can't fix her. She has to be willing to be honest enough to admit her own things and get the help she needs.
One thing you can do - see if she'd be willing to let you come along to her appointments. Some patients have people who do so, kind of like representatives, to admit to things they either can't or won't, or haven't noticed from the outset. If she's unwilling to do that, then - as much as it will hurt - you'll have to accept what she says and let her make her own mistakes.
I'm sorry you've had such a rough time of it. The only suggestion I can think of is to keep trying.
Almost all of us here have been diagnosed, either quietly or openly, or have family members who have been. Not everyone faces as much stigma as you feel you are under. To some (like me) it has been a relief and a stepping stone - or a safety net, when things fall apart.
Monkey - my biggest problem is (surprise, surprise) forgetting to actually write it down! LOL
J - ouch, that sounds terribly rough. )= Hope things are better for you now...
Cooksie - honey-bunny, I've slept in just about every room in the house except the kitchen and the mudroom. If I had a choice, I'd probably shack my happy butt up in the dining room - I has THE BEST night of sleep when I was in there, despite the fact that I was only snuggled in a sleeping bag on the hard floor...
ps. we're Doctor Who fans, and he always calls his TARDIS "Sexy", so it doesn't have the same connotation for my son as it would an adult ... just in case anyone was wondering why a 7yr old got his momma a cup that said Sexy .... LOL
I'm like that when I sleep in my spare room, too. But if I sleep in my living room I'm fine, which is weird because with it being so close to the front door I should be way paranoid. I think it has something to do with the couch; my couch has been in my life since I was a kid, so there's a certain level of comfort going on with it, you know?
I go see my pdoc again next week; I'll have to make a list of things to talk to him about, since for some reason when I'm actually there for the appointment, I can never remember it all. =/
Honestly, I don't know ... I was on a bad mix of medications, a lot of bad mixes, for so long. Now I'm on a *better* mix, but every week it's something else. A sleep attack or a bout of depression or lingering and flaring effects of mania or hypomania, and anxiety attack (or multiple ones) ... it's just crazy. And I'm not just saying that. lol
I ended up going home yesterday and slept from around 10 to around 4. Had more crazy dreams, this time about a stone that turned anything it was tapped against into gold, so there was gold like *everywhere* to cash in. (Talk about wishful dreaming!!)
Dreaming a lot and in great detail is a symptom of mine, so maybe right now I'm just going through a 'flare-up' of the BP. But still, like I said, every week it's something different. -_-;;
It all makes perfect sense, Cookie, and I'm so sorry you're going through that ... ((HUGS))
I've had days where all my concerns come up at once, and my doc usually just attributes it to anxiety. I always second-guess myself, about how bad my symptoms REALLY are, so end up feeling guilty and down-playing it all. Even though I really have no need to feel guilty - I'm not whining to anyone for attention - I just feel like I'm troubling my doctors for no reason. Like I'm a burden and such.
I lost it a bit at work this morning. Last night/this morning I woke up around one, and from one a.m. to four a.m. I had constant dreams about self-harming. I woke up shaky and jittery and got through the early morning all right, but when I got to work I started freaking out. I got so jumpy and jittery, like there was an electrical cord plugged into my spine and all of my nerves. I felt helpless and started crying and it stopped almost as suddenly as it started, a minute later.
I took my meds early and it calmed it a bit, but now I feel empty and bruised and am debating asking to go home early. I feel I need to, but then on the other hand I keep thinking 'it's okay - I'm okay - I'll be fine...'