My husband would hit the walls screaming, "You don't need to have a mental illness! Stop it!" until I cried that I wanted to die, I hated myself and felt so scared. To try to be what he wanted I worked on bipolar workbooks every day for hours to get "normal". Meanwhile, with all of his yelling at me, I started to have panic attacks. Then I started to have depersonalization - where I was dissociating so much that I thought I stopped existing. This is normal with PTSD, but the doctor said I was psychotic and drugged me more. Also, I was terrified that zombies were trying to kill me, so I'd hide in the closet terrified and suicidal. This was my way of trying to make sense of the terror I felt.