Trying to understand myself

When I was diagnosed as having depression in my teens, I was quite relieved. I felt that having a name for how I felt was a good thing, as it meant it could be fixed. Years later, I have discovered that that was not to be the case. The first drug I was given was Fluoxetine (Prozac). This was far too heavy for me, and caused me to feel emotionally numb, and cut off from real life. I felt like I was in a glass box, simply watching the world around me, but not connected to it.
It was whilst I was taking this, that my father passed away from Leukaemia. Technically, it was from a bug he had picked up, but as he no longer had a spleen, and had endured lots of chemotherapy and such, he essentially had no immune system left to fight it. He was admitted into hospital for it, and he never came out.

Years later, when I was 26, I was diagnosed as having Emotionally Unstable Personality Disorder. I didn't know what that meant, and I didn't feel like I was helped to understand it, or how it affected me. I was referred on to an Introduction To Mentalisation-Based Therapy for 12 weeks. Some months went by after I completed this, and I was eventually enrolled onto a One-Day-Per-Week Therapy Group. I attended this for the best part of a year, and it was the highlight of my week. Eventually, I dropped out, as I moved across the country.

Nowadays, I live alone with no real life friends, and neither of my daughters. Sienna is 6, and lives in England with her paternal grandmother under a Special Guardianship Order which remains in place until she turns 18. My other daughter, Hope, is 2 and is in foster care here in Ireland, and has been since she was taken at 7 weeks old. Both of them were taken, at least in part, due to my mental health difficulties.
The problem I have with this is mainly that my diagnoses seem to have been used as justification for taking my daughters from me. I readily admit that with Sienna, I struggled a lot. I was sectioned for observation, and released within 2 weeks. I was prescribed mild anti-depressants.
At that time, I was living with Sienna's father in a council flat, and we were on benefits. I had no friends, and my mother came to see us twice.

When I fell pregnant with Hope in 2015, me and her father made the decision to move to Southern Ireland, as Social Services were making plans to take her from us. In this instance, Hope's father had a history of mental health issues, and had been sectioned for a couple of years due to physical violence towards his siblings. He was around 14 years of age at that time. When Hope was conceived, he was 23.
In February 2016, we came to Dublin. By 11th March, we had signed a tenancy for a one bedroom flat in County Longford. Me and Hope's father have been split up for 15 months, and I cut him off completely in June this year.

It is only now that I am totally alone, and with many professionals looking at me, that I have become very aware of myself, and my behaviour. My reactions to things and to other people. My lack of social connections, and exercise. My poor diet, insomnia, anxiety and isolating depression. I have a lot of work to do, and in a very short space of time. I doubt that I can do what is expected of me, and with my anxiety and apathy, I don't know how much I will be able to achieve for the judge to find in my favour come this December.
On the one hand, if I don't turn my life around, I run the very real risk of losing my best chance of having my daughter returned to my care. On the other hand, if I can pull it off, my life will be irrevocably changed, forever. It will have a lasting impact on my mental health either way, and I am terrified of the prospect of either eventuality.

Florence and The Machine-Shake It Out