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About Mr_Turtle

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    Knitting, reading, science, cute animals.

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  1. I had sex with a friend of a friend on friday who seemed into me. He stayed the night and was all cuddly in the morning and kissed me when he left, then added me on Facebook and was really friendly when I bumped into him accidentally. So I asked if he wanted to get ice cream some time and he made it clear he had never been interested in me from the start and that I should somehow have known that despite his mixed signals. I can deal with being rejected, even though it stings. What has really upset me is that for a minute there I actually believed that it was possible for a decent person I'm attracted to even look twice at a damaged goods blob like me. Hope is really cruel. I've only had two boyfriends in my life and they were both sexually, emotionally, psychologically and financially abusive. I put up with it all that time because I didn't think I could do any better, and my opinion hasn't really changed even now. I've been single for 3 years because if no-one nice wanted me when I was 23 and slim, they're sure as hell not going to want me now that I'm 34, fat and mentally ruined. The saddest thing is that being a warm hole for someone to use is a huge step up from being systematically abused. I don't even remember the sex really, I was that drunk. I'm just vaguely aware that it happened. So not worth it This just reinforces the feeling that my rapist husband probably was the best I can hope to do relationship-wise. Anyone I can realistically get is either going to be using me until someone better comes along, or abusive, or so ugly and boring that I couldn't bear to let them touch me. I feel so stupid and naive and humiliated. I'm going to see him around and he'll probably tell everyone what a desperate weirdo I am. The other guy I like won't want to know now because I'm just a slut who screwed someone else. Part of me wants him to message me again saying he's sorry and he's changed his mind and does want me after all, but that's beyond pathetic. Part of me wants to message him and tell him all this so that he understands the consequences of his actions. I wasn't even looking for a boyfriend - this has only happened because he led me on. I was hoping for some sort of friends with benefits thing, or maybe just hookups, or at most some kind of non-serious short relationship. I don't want to talk to any of my real life friends about this because I don't want them to know how much of a loser I am for being this upset. And people think they're helping by dismissively saying 'oh don't worry I'm sure you'll meet someone' but that makes me want to punch them in the face. They've all got wonderful partners who treat them well so they can't be arsed to deal with my sadness. People aren't willing to go through the discomfort of acknowledging that I'm really sad, and I resent them for it but they're all I've got so I just have to take it. I know it sounds negative but this world is not a nice place and there is no magic law that means everyone will find their soulmate. A lot of people are miserable and lonely or get stuck in a cycle of bad relationships and that's just how it is for some of us. Or you find your soulmate and they leave you for someone else, or you get bored with each other. It doesn't help that both of the people I was closest to have stopped bothering with me because I can't compete with their new friends who are more fun. I feel like every person I try to build a connection with just takes whatever they can get from me and then ditches me as soon as their real friends come along. I had semi resigned myself to being forever alone and building up all the other areas of my life, and that was kind of working. Now this has just re-opened all of those wounds and I feel horrible. I just want someone to value me and give me a hug, but it looks like that's not on the cards for me. I feel so ashamed of being so repulsive and unlikable. I want to do better but I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I am so tired of trying to build a good life for myself and constantly getting slapped down by the universe. I'm exhausted but what other options do I have? Every time I try it feels like I'm just twisting the knife in my guts. It's telling me that continually failing at social interaction is upsetting me deeply, but I don't know what to do about it. I guess this feeling is telling me something but I can't tell whether it's pushing me towards trying harder to find a partner or becoming a hermit. tl;dr wah wah nobody likes me
  2. I also struggle with mornings, but at the moment it's more of a fatigue thing than a depression thing. A sunrise lamp is helping a little, as is setting my alarm for an hour before I have to get up and taking Pro Plus - it just makes it a bit easier to get moving. What if your girlfriend gave you a quick phone call around the time you need to get up? Nothing too involved, just a 2-minute "I care about you, hope you have a nice day" sort of thing. Have you experimented with playing the radio early in the morning, as a distraction? I've had good success with that when I dip in the afternoons (but haven't tried it in the mornings yet) Hope it starts to get a little easier for you soon.
  3. Service jobs are notoriously unforgiving, and being 'on' all day sounds really tough. For what it's worth, I'm really impressed that you've stuck with it. Also adjustment can take an amazingly long time. I started a new job 5 weeks ago when I wasn't convinced I was fit to work. For the first 4 weeks all I did outside work was sleep eat and drink excessively, I was absolutely convinced I was on the verge on crashing and burning, and had all sorts of horrible thoughts. After 5 weeks something had changed just very subtly, and I was able to watch TV for a couple of hours most days after work. Doesn't sound like much but for me that was a huge achievement. The thing that helps me when I get overwhelmed at work is to mentally say FUCK IT I DON'T CARE AT ALL, and imagine telling everyone else they can suck it. You don't need to be some model employee and drink the company kool-aid. Right now the big-picture stuff sounds pretty intimidating. Just move your face muscles into a totally fake smile and let it all wash over you. It won't fix the depression of course, but it might make the days go a little smoother. You're putting in a really good effort even though you're ill and suffering. Be proud of that. And maybe apply for some office-based temp jobs.
  4. Same happened to me. I kept telling my doctor I Could Not Breathe, and even went to the emergency room for it. Not one clinician thought to hand me a damn peak flow meter to check! Between that and my abusive ex-husband aggressively telling me I was just attention-seeking, it took 5 years to be diagnosed. And that's if you don't count the wheezy spells I was having for 10 years before that. Every time I had a cold it went onto my chest and I genuinely thought I might die in my sleep because without my accessory muscles I just wasn't shifting enough air. One time on holiday I was coughing so badly that I was vomiting and delirious, and something cartilage-y around my left collarbone tore and still feels weird now - but when he eventually came to check on me my ex made it clear he couldn't care less, and I felt like such a pathetic loser for having even told anyone. Even when my doctor finally believed me that I couldn't breathe, she just handed me a prescription for a reliever inhaler and couldn't be bothered to test me for asthma or even tell me what symptoms to be worried about. It got worse and worse and worse and nobody cared. One day I was struggling to keep up with my family on a day out and I grudgingly decided to seek medical attention because it had been three nights since I had slept for breathlessness, and I was worried that it might get worse over the bank holiday weekend. That doctor examined me properly and had kittens because I was having a medium asthma attack - not even a mild one! I was too ashamed to tell her that I had had worse symptoms a LOT of times during the previous few months. Now I'm on a preventer and a reliever, and it's finally under control. I was supposed to go to the asthma clinic last month but all that's going to happen is the nurse will tell me off for being on propranolol, which is hardly my fault. I would absolutely love it if my pdoc changed my medication to something that works properly and doesn't make my asthma worse, but all he does is call me in every 4 months to check that I still haven't killed myself There is no tdoc service available, and even if I could get on the waiting list it would just be 6-8 sessions of CBT which has caused me severe harm in the past. All I can do is wait to see whether I magically get better by myself and then one day maybe I can come off some of these medications. tl;dr: Doctors are useless to the point of negligence when it comes to patients with multiple conditions. SHOUT until they hear you.
  5. Medication-wise, sleeping tablets or haloperidol. Anything with a strong enough sedative effect to knock me out. But medication wasn't a huge factor for me. For me, the crucial change was finally being well enough that I remembered what it felt like to feel normal-good, to give me something to aim for. For years before that I either felt depressed or SO AMAZING I COULD JUST CRAWL OUT OF MY SKIN AND PUNCH SOMEONE. So whenever I felt myself lifting out of depression I did everything in my power to encourage that process, consciously or unconsciously, and ended up sky high. In my heart of hearts I WANTED to be hypomanic/+, because genuinely it was 100x times better than feeling depressed. There are lots of little behavioural things I do now to short-circuit that high feeling, but ultimately I had to want in my heart for it to stop and then eventually the rest began to fall into place. And I don't mean that flippantly! I napalmed my life in order to lower my external stress levels, and even then it took 3+ years for it to even begin to work. I debased myself by giving up my dreams of having a career, an intellectual life, a romantic relationship and children. I gave up on everything I cared about. But the payoff has been a sense of healthy happiness that I thought would never be possible - for 20 years I couldn't even imagine feeling both normal and happy. I still have periods of a few days when I can't stop laughing/dancing/singing and stay up half the night devising incredible new projects, and it's only been about 8 weeks since I last phoned my doctor in tears because I couldn't make it stop and was terrified. But at least know I know that feeling normal-good is possible and it's worth the pain of pushing those intense good feelings to one side. For example, if I feel I'm getting too high: - Don't sing, at all, or even tap my feet to music - Don't plan projects or go on Pinterest - stick to boring housework - Set an alarm for 11pm and get into bed with the lights off at that time, whether or not I am able to sleep. Having a strong routine before the episode starts is phenomenally useful when it comes to resisting excitable impulses. Knowing my bus leaves at 17:13 can be enough to make the difference between going straight home and going off on one of my 'adventures'. - Use breathing exercises/stretching/relaxation tapes etc to clear my mind, even when the thoughts that want to come in feel AMAZING - Avoid aerobic exercise (weights are fine) - Avoid social situations, or basically anything fun - Stay indoors and sit down quietly - Absolutely no alcohol - not even one sip!!! This is the most important one by far. - If it gets far enough that the demon shows up at my house, it helps to sing to it to pacify it enough that I can sneak past and go to bed, even if I have to keep the lights on and pin my hair under my collar so that it can't grab hold of me tl;dr: remind yourself constantly of the good things in your life that are made possible by resisting hypomania, and hopefully all the little tips and tricks that work for you personally will become apparent. Genuinely wanting to come down is the most powerful force, but it's easier said than done.
  6. I've always had an extreme fear of being abandoned by people close to me. Even just people disapproving or not connecting with me over things. That fear has shaped so much of my adult life it's embarrassing. It's what made me vulnerable to domestic abuse. The only thing that has made any difference is spending time alone, and realising that the world doesn't end. I've lost some poeple along the way though.
  7. Do you really think that someone who makes a few errors deserves to be burned? That is ultra extreme. I don't even know you and I can tell you don't deserve it. You just don't. Apart from anything else, if you genuinely did deserve it, you wouldn't take so much care to hide it from everyone, would you? What exactly do you think you're doing wrong anyway? You can only do what is within your capability, and anyone who expects you to be some kind of smooth 100% perfect James Bond figure is just being dumb. The average normal person screws things up all day every day and they don't even care, so unless you're deliberately running over people's dogs then probably you're doing just fine. Think of all the times other people screwed up at the bank, or at work, and you didn't think they deserved to be burned. At the moment it must seem like things are never going to get better. I know that feeling. It took me 20 years of HARD work for a little sliver of ok-ness to appear - but the point is, it did happen eventually, and it was worth the wait, and it only came through when I let go of keeping score of hat things I got right or wrong (which was NOT easy). Your wellbeing is more important than whether you feel like you deserve this or that punishment. Nobody apart from you is keeping score. Anything that makes you feel strong and worthwhile and at peace is valuable even if you don't yet understand how you deserve it. The last time you felt like you were maybe doing ok, and the world was maybe an ok place, what were you doing
  8. A friend of 7 years called me "mentally sub-par" because I stopped speaking to him after he told me that he almost raped me while I was unconscious. He graciously offered me as much time as I needed to understand how actually it was totally fine, and anyway he discussed it with this massively sexist guy I hate, and sexist guy thinks he should have just gone for it "while he had the chance". Yeah. My ex's father accused me of lying to the police about the times his son had raped me. He demanded to know "why I had done that to his family after they had invited me into their home". Because if you give a girl a few roast dinners it means your firstborn has the right to rape her????? Apart from that, it's been more a case of nasty (or even close) people insinuating things rather than saying them outright. Paintedsky: WTF HOW DARE HE. That is a disgusting thing to say to a partner. That is just beyond awful. OOOH THAT HAS MADE ME SO ANGRY.
  9. It really does take a lot to suffocate. I had an asthma attack at the same time as a dissociative attack last year, so I couldn't breathe but also couldn't reach for my inhaler for >6 hours. I honestly thought I was going to die that day. My whole body was screaming at me that I couldn't breathe, for hours on end, and yet it managed to pull through. So if you find yourself having an attack then don't panic - just try to breathe steadily and not panic until it passes. That said, the asthma nurse was very forceful that asthma can suddenly worsen, so if you're having problems then it's vital that you get properly checked out before it gets to a bad stage. Don't be a hero.
  10. I kept having spells where I couldn't breathe, but my abusive ex convinced me I was just making it up for attention and shouted at me if I couldn't keep up with him (especially on icy mornings). When I finally broke up with him I went to my doctor because I couldn't breathe well enough to stay asleep, but she was too lazy/incompetent to do anything sensible like actually measure my breathing or explain how to tell if you're having a potentially fatal asthma attack. It got worse and by the following summer I had three asthma attacks severe enough to need a course of rescue steroids. One of them happened while I was abroad and the doctor had an absolute fit and gave me a preventer inhaler on the spot. I also feel breathless when I'm anxious and, conversely, if I do 'relaxing' breathing exercises it brings on a panic attack. What helps me is to go outside, stand up straight, with my feet solidly planted on the floor and my shoulders back, and let my breathing gradually calm itself down. Don't force it or try too hard to fit some 'relaxing' breathing pattern from a book. Just stand comfortably and confidently, and let the air gently wash out all the fear hormones. It takes about 60 seconds (or longer if I'm super wound up). Sometimes channelling the panic energy into something useful/energetic can help short-circuit the cycle, but that's easier said than done sometimes! And if that doesn't work then I take my inhaler. Did they give you a peak flow meter to take home, so you can measure your breathing while the problem is happening? What sort of readings do you get?
  11. If you find out what to call that, let me know! When I got really ill a few years back there was definitely a connection between the dissociation and the (mild/transient) hallucinations and delusions, and the anxiety too. It was like I got so anxious that my mind retreated back into itself for comfort and came into contact with some weird old brain junk that would normally stay hidden away. It very much had the feel of being stuck in a Japanese horror film that I couldn't switch off - a relentless sense of uncanny dread, with occasional gut-wrenching jump scares. I'd feel high as a kite but also be able to feel my heart hammering and the deep muscles in my legs trembling, and be dimly aware that it probably meant I was anxious. Walking down stairs was a nightmare. FWIW Haloperidol wrestled me back into shared reality very effectively, but TBH I'm not sure that was much of an improvement at the time.
  12. Haha, cool. Is s/he the smart one? Mine is. Even if I ever tell anyone about feeling like there are two of us in here, I will NEVER admit to it being called the Oracle. [huh, I never thought about what pronouns to use before right now...I guess he/she/it/they will let me know at some point?] because there is a crappy shopping centre in the UK called the Oracle. I had never heard of it happening this way until recently. I was so used to flashbacks being to something I had known memories of, that were triggered by certain sights/sounds/smells/feelings. But the way you've described it is spot on - I've felt safe for the first time just in the past few months, and it was the sheer adrenaline burst of all the bad news that took me back to the really old stuff. At first I thought that proved it was just a brain blip, but all the first-hand accounts I've found of people who spontaneously recovered memories (which were sometimes corroborated) described an uncannily similar set of circumstances. I always thought repressed memories was a load of garbage for people who had poor taste in movies! Which books would you particularly recommend? I'd rather start by myself, so there's less risk of someone putting ideas in my head. It's so hard to know what to do with all of this. Part of me wants to confront him and judge his reaction. Part of me wants to keep this a secret for the rest of my life. The Oracle wants me to get to the bottom of it and then decide what to do, and is patient enough for me to take that process slowly and not do too much at once. If it was someone else I would tell them to push forwards to find the truth, and if it happened that way to cut that person out of their life. It's easier to be that casual about someone else's life. Could you possibly tell me an example of a memory that was symbolic? I think all of my memories are essentially visual, which is why I thought there was no childhood stuff to remember. Now that I have three specific visual scenarios it's very difficult to tell myself I'm just being silly. Usually what gives me the worst flashbacks to the domestic (adult) abuse is fairly abstract triggers, like the written word 'consent', or that creepy divided feeling you get when someone is deliberately messing with you but with a smile on their face. Although someone with his haircut or the sound of keys in a lock will do it just fine My dreams are generally metaphorical, but often pretty heavy handed! If they were dream sequences in a film, you'd roll your eyes at how obvious they were. Although I must admit it was a spooky coincidence that I dreamed about ISIS blowing up Manchester two days before it happened in real life. I'm sure it was only (only!) meant to symbolise my own life being figuratively smashed to smithereens. Urgh...what with all this stuff at home and in the news it's a wonder any of leave the house in the morning!
  13. I've started experimenting with two approaches that seem to be working surprisingly well: * Formally declaring (to myself and the cats) a state of mental emergency, where the normal rules are suspended and my main goal is to do a fantastic job of relaxing. I make a point of saying 'well done' to myself for each relaxing thing I do, such a listening to soothing music, or wearing comfortable socks, or whatever. * Committing to doing something totally unproductive (e.g. watching medical dramas) but at the same time doing 'undeclared' productive stuff like mild aerobics or folding washing. Yeah, that's a pretty familiar feeling! Especially when they want to get into all the backstory before even getting to the present complaint. Urgh.
  14. I've had longstanding issues with dissociation and always saw it as a bad thing. As a teenager/student I beat myself up a lot for being stupid/useless because I couldn't focus and remember information in the way other people did, but never suspected it was anything medical because I would have periods of time where I felt totally normal too. While public speaking or really stressed I would become really peaceful and feel myself float away, then snap back into my body and not know how long I'd been 'gone' (which people commented on). It got worse when I chose partners who were emotionally and sexually abusive, and I would frequently leave my body during sex. Eventually I started having blackouts where I'd wake up on the floor with an hour or so missing, or realise that my body had been crying hard for a while but I hadn't realised. After I went to the police I started having periods of total paralysis where I was conscious and in quite a cheerful mood, but unable to move anything apart from my eyes for 1-16 hours. Sometimes I would be looking down on the body while it screamed or cried, and I'd feel sorry for it but also a bit frustrated because it's boring to be stuck in limbo. A few times I had blackouts where I would send nonsensical emails and wake up covered in scratches, but not remember anything. I don't feel like I have other fully-formed personalities, but there are certainly two parts living inside this body. The part I always thought of as 'me' is the bit that is generally in charge while I'm awake, and is very focused on 'what SHOULD I do?', which has led me into a lot of hugely self-defeating behaviours. The other part, that I call the Oracle, communicates with me via dreams, via song lyrics that get stuck in my head, and via me asking it questions. At first its voice was quiet and I had to ask binary yes/no questions with my eyes closed to get an answer. The more I trust myself the louder it gets, and now we're at a very comfortable stage where we can have a bit of a chat. Sometimes it tells me things I don't want to hear, but it has never, ever gotten it wrong. It told me to leave my abusive husband and it also told me to renew my antivirus software Sometimes the dreams and song lyrics are metaphorical, but the Oracle always clues me in to what it really means. This past year is the first time I've felt safe in a physical, sexual and emotional sense. It's been amazing and I've felt more normal than I ever hoped would be possible. I've been doing physical and mental exercises to get me back into my body and have made a massive amount of progress. My co-ordination and memory have come on in leaps and bounds, and I feel like a normal happy person who makes good choices about my own life. HOWEVER, I had one extremely stressful week and it seemed to kick-start some flashbacks to something happening to me as a small child that I wasn't aware of. I mean, I always had this creepy little inkling but ignored it because there were no specific memories to link it to. I had a very intense two weeks of flashbacks that revealed themselves a glimpse at a time, like when you've been super drunk the night before and something embarrassing you did comes back to you in dribs and drabs throughout the day. The three flashbacks I've had so far are just fragmentary: 1) I'm in the bath with him and something has just happened that really upset me. I'm trying to climb out over the side but he stops me. 2) We're on a sofa in front of a window or possibly shelves, with an open doorway to the left and probably another door (to the kitchen?) ahead. He is sitting on the right-hand seat with his left leg stretched out along the sofa, and I'm sitting just in front of him. He has his right hand over my mouth to shut me up. 3) I'm in my single bed in my new room wearing a too-big white nightie made of soft synthetic fabric that is all bobbled. Maybe it has a bit of turquoise applique or a pocket? Someone lifts it up. The flashbacks are accompanied by intense distress and all-out FEAR. The only other time I've felt this gut-wrenching deep-in-the-soul sickening horror is in dealing with my ex who raped me. That feeling of not being safe in my own home with the door(s) locked, and that if he so much as makes eye contact with me I'll shrivel up and die. The Oracle is telling me that this is real via multiple channels, and it is L.O.U.D. I dreamed that I was standing on a bridge and a bomb went off and shattered everything underneath me into smithereens. Before that, I dreamed that all men in the world came out and admitted that they're all rapists or wannabe rapists, and this man was like "YES, MR TURTLE, EVEN MEEEEE". I went through a long phase as a teenager of freezing and turning myself into a stone if he so much as touched my head/arms. He once made a really chilling comment about how a 13-year-old girl in a book we had both read was actually ok with being abused by her step-father because he gave her money afterwards and she took it. My sister has always thought I was his favourite and resented me for getting special treatment. I don't know whether the flashbacks are literally true memories I had buried, or whether they're figurative in the way that dreams often are. Am I remembering childhood abuse, or is this some hideous transitional phase in healing from the abuse I experienced as an adult? What if I'm crazy and imagined all of this? What if I'm really the nasty attention-seeking bitch my ex always thought I was? What if it was someone else and I break his heart by accusing him? What if I'm right and he either admits or denies it? What if this is all I ever remember? What if I remember worse stuff? What the hell am I supposed to do? I can hardly ask him, and everyone is starting to notice that I'm avoiding him. Today I hid round the corner from my house and phoned my housemate to make sure he wasn't there before I dared to go home. This is far from normal behaviour for an adult. I'm so, so scared. I just switched my music off so that I can hear whether anyone has let themselves into my house. Has anyone else been in this situation? What did you do? How did things work out? tl;dr: having new flashbacks, unsure if they're real memories or something more metaphorical.
  15. Not sure whether I can offer and tips you haven't already tried, but just wanted to say that I feel in the same situation right now and it's rubbish. For what it's worth, here is what I'm planning to do: - Get outside for a bit each day, and do weights at home - Cancel all non-essential activities and tuck myself up in bed with a turmeric latte, the cats, and some Netflix. Maybe book a couple of days of annual leave next week. - Speak up to my doctor(s) and the people around me about not doing so good, while understanding they are unlikely to help - Focus on low-level things that make me feel good, like showering, or wearing comfy underpants, or buying some fancy cheese, or listening to some soothing music - Laying off things that make me feel good in an over-excited way It sounds like cancelling your trip was an excellent idea - enjoy your rest! And don't be too strict with yourself about getting off to a good start in your new state. It's nice when it happens, but even without mental health problems that sort of upheaval can be bumpy for all sorts of reasons. Do you have a plan in place with your doctor about what will happen if you realise you're sliding into depression? And has s/he sent that plan ahead to your new doctor, so that you don't end up having a gap in your care at exactly the time when you need extra support? Do the people around you know how to tell if you're getting worse, and what to do about it?
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