Girl, Interrupted (More About Me)

For as long as I can remember some form of mental illness was apart of my life.  In grade school I had good or "clean" pencils and bad "dirty" pencils.  At thirteen I was scouring my hands to get rid of germs.  It didn't help that my father thought an appropriate punishment for a C in History was to scrub the entire bathroom daily for three consecutive months.  I felt as if my mind was not my own.  I would repeat a thought in my head incessantly until I was in tears.  By fifteen I had been uprooted from my closest friends to a rural Midwestern town.  The daughter of an up and coming military officer, we came and went at the U.S. Army's beck and call.  It was by no means and easy childhood for myself or my siblings.  After a decade and a half of stares and bullying, saying I was depressed would be an understatement.  The taunt that echoed in my head through the years- "psycho bitch".  I loathed the bus rides home.  I not only retreated to my room, but deep down into the darkness of myself.  Towards my seventeenth birthday I had long laundry list of diagnoses.  Originating with Hypochondria going through Multiple Personality Disorder (now known as Dissociative Identity Disorder), Histrionic and Narcissistic personality disorder, depression, Bipolar Disorder (types 1 & 2) until finally they settled upon Borderline Personality Disorder and Major Depressive Disorder without psychotic features.  Did I mention I spent half a year in a youth residential care better known as a mental institution?  Just don't ever call me crazy.