Suzy Favor Hamilton was a middle-distance runner who represented the US in three Olympic Games before becoming an escort in Las Vegas as she struggled with bipolar disorder. Listen to her story on Stephen Nolan, 12 February, 23:30 GMT on BBC Radio 5 live.
Mine is a story of misdiagnosis, but how did I get there?
There is a history of mental illness in my family. My brother lived with bipolar disorder and the household was often chaotic as a result.
Our family never discussed it. To the outside, we looked like the Brady Bunch. Looking back, there were signs something was not quite right with me either.
I did everything at a mile a minute and couldn't focus for the life of me. Growing up, I lived with an eating disorder, had suicidal thoughts and a suicide attempt in college, then experienced severe anxiety when I raced. But I kept it all in, trying to maintain the facade of the perfect Midwestern girl, strong and powerful.
If others noticed any problems, they looked the other way. I usually won, and they liked it that way.
Running seemed to be the one thing in life that quietened my brain, and because of that, I loved to run and grew to obsess about it.
I saw my winning races have a positive effect on my family, namely my parents. I strangely grew to feel that my success could make this a happy family, and take away any silent pain we were experiencing as a result of my brother's odd behaviour.
My running career was highly successful. I won more NCAA Championships than anybody ever had. I won seven US Championship titles between 1991 and 2004, set a couple of American records, and made the 1992, 1996 and 2000 Olympic teams.
I won a lot, but tended to "choke" at the big, big meets. I didn't know why and it ate at me. My body would just tighten up on me unexpectedly towards the end of a race. Like I was running with a piano on my back. I even fell on purpose in the 1500m final at the Sydney Olympics when, as the favourite, I knew I would not medal with 50 metres to go.
That was easier to swallow than failure. I wanted so badly to win that one for my family, to ease the pain of losing my brother Dan to suicide the year before.
Incredibly, I never thought of myself as having any kind of brain disorder. All I knew was that I dreaded competing. Filled with anxiety most often, I could not wait to retire, but I marched on to please others.
Finally, in 2005, I got pregnant. Having a child would be my way out. This was my excuse, and I could not wait to be a mom. I would have a baby, maybe two, and live a life of perfect happiness. But that's not what happened.
Months after having my beautiful daughter, I was in a dark place.
a new "real world" job in real estate, a suddenly strained marriage, a disintegrating relationship with my siblings, strain with my parents, a miscarriage, then another, feelings of inadequacy of being a mother. It was building up.
All I knew was that I had to hold my daughter all the time. I could not let go. I had no motivation to run. I rocked myself constantly. I was irritable like never before. And then I decided I wanted to run my car off the road, into a tree. I just wanted the pain to stop.
Thankfully, I thought of my daughter, resisted those thoughts, made it home, and told my husband.
Soon, I saw a doctor, was diagnosed with post-partum depression, put on anti-depressants, and things improved. Years passed. Triggers intensified. I was getting by, but had grown to detest the side-effects. I felt fat, sluggish, unmotivated. I stopped taking the drug that had been keeping me somewhat stable.
CULLED FROM THE BBC.
It didn't take long, but before I knew it, I was in that dark place again. Suicidal. Triggers everywhere. My marriage was deteriorating. My family was driving me crazy. I had a modest speaking career, but they insisted I not publicly speak about my mental illness or my brother's bipolar and suicide. I hated my real estate job. I just wanted to escape.
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