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I must confess I do sometimes. The biggest lie was few years ago when I regularly came to her, took my prescriptions and didn't take the meds for almost one and a half year. It ended up with mania and psychosis of course and all came out. She wasn't angry with me, my family was though as I lied to them too. She only said I must have had some reasons to do that and she understands. I know it shouldn't work like this but knowing her for so many years I sometimes know exactly what she's going to say and do wiht my treatment and I must admit I manipulate the information I'm giving from time to time. Please tell me you do the same sometimes... or? are you always 100% honest with your doctor?
To really understand what is happening, some background information is needed, so forgive me if this is rather long. My dad and I used to be very close when I was little. My parents are divorced, and when I was 12 my dad decided to try to get custody of me. It was an ugly custody battle and there was a lot of other things going on such as my mom's mom passed away around the same time. I could only imagine the pain she must of felt loosing both her mom and her only child at the same time. She didn't hide how she felt which was heart wrenching for a 12 year old to watch. While she wasn't the best mom, she wasn't the worst either, so I told my dad I did not want to go through with the custody battle anymore. I saw my dad as a strong role model, and my mom by herself, hurting. I couldn't leave her. He tried to tell me it was because she kept begging me not to leave her alone, and while she didn't control her emotions in front of me, those words never came out of her mouth. Never. It was how I felt, and he refused to listen. Choosing sides was just wrong, and no one would give in. That started the complications between my dad and I. He started telling me how I choose her over him. How I always stood up for her. There were times I did, but I am not the type of person to let two people I care about talk nasty things about each other in front of me. I also often warned him whenever I found court papers in my mom's room for her going after him for more child support. I often snooped looking for them so I could tell him. I worried about that stuff with him since he ended up filing bankruptcy. Well, we still saw each other quite often. It was bumpy, but we still maintained some kind of altered relationship until he married his third wife when I was 13 (my parents divorced when I was 4). She hated me. She told me she hated me. I had trouble since I was 7 with mental illness, mostly anxiety until I was 12. The anxiety caused me to stop eating when I got stressed to the point of being hospitalized and picking at my skin causing scars. I was often reminded at how disgusting the scars looked and that I looked diseased, as one example of how they talked down to me. This drove a wedge because what depressed 13 year old would actually want to be around that? By the time I was 17, my dad found out I was cutting and tried for custody again, but I refused to go with him. He humiliated me by demanding an emergency court order, showing everyone my cuts in the court building against my will. I was in such a dark place then. My senior year was a nightmare, worse than any of my family knows. That's when I started the drug abuse, which my mom found out about later. I ended up saying mean things to my dad. I let out a lot of pent up anger and so he decided to back off. When I asked him to come to my high school graduation he refused. He also tended to blame me for things my mom did. For example he tried to give me an old car he had when my truck broke down and my mom told him to go die (my mom was taking medication that made her aggressive and loopy for a couple years). I was sent to my room during the argument (I was 17). He blamed me for that. My mom told me he wasn't giving it to me, that he was trying to sell it to her. That kind of broke the rest of the relationship we had. Those were some of the major events anyway. I've tried making contact with him after a little time went by. He often would complain to my grandparents how I never would contact him. I didn't very often, but I made a few attempts at phone calls and text messages, hoping he would do the same in return, but that never happened. I was never sure if I should try more often to expect him to start a conversation first, but talking to him and meeting up with him is always so difficult. He is not always very friendly to me. He still says things like, you don't want me in your life, you always side with your mom, you don't need me to things more like: you are a nightmare to be around, and even recently, I hope your baby doesn't have your horrible personality. So making these attempts is difficult, but I do every once in awhile and I suppose that is not good enough since he goes to my grandparents and tells them how I don't want him around. I've also caught him lying a lot lately. When I found out that I was first pregnant, I wanted an abortion, and I thought talking to my dad and including him would make him feel important and needed. So I did, but I did so making him promise not to tell my grandparents who mean the world to me, that I would tell them when I am ready and wasn't going to until I knew what I was going to do for sure. He ended up telling them and told me that he told them Christmas Eve. At the time he told them, I was still thinking about not keeping the baby, and almost didn't. If he had told them that and then they found out what had happened if I didn't keep the baby.... I don't even want to think of what would happen. I felt so betrayed. I had also told my mom by that point. Her and I have become closer since not living under the same roof. She finally let me 'grow up' so her controlling side is gone. She also came off those meds that made her aggressive, and I couldn't be happier with that. My mom handled the news very well and was nothing but helpful and supportive. She got me to go see the doctor for the first time and paid for it out of pocket since my insurance hadn't kicked in yet. Yet, my dad lied to my grandparents after I told him this and told them how she took it terribly. I never told my grandparents I knew he lied to them, but I did tell them what the truth was when they asked how my mom took it. For awhile, I thought I was so fed up with him at this point. I never confronted him about any of that. I don't know how, nor do I think it is a good idea. I think the best thing to do is try to talk to him more and make him feel more involved, but even after all of that, he still complained. I'm not sure what else to do at this point. He doesn't tell me anything and gets angry when I get upset over certain things he says. He responds to any emotional response with things like, I should of known better than to talk to you about stuff like this, with a harsh attitude. Like he is angry at me for certain topics being too difficult for me to discuss. So when I try to talk to him about specific things or even in general, he gets very angry and defensive at me and I end up in tears, making him more furious with me and yelling at me. I've learned just to try to make contact, but like I said, it doesn't usually seem to go well and some how I end up getting hurt most of the time when I try to involve him or talk to him. I've even gone to visit him while he was on a short term job in the same state as me (2 hours away), but he never came to see me once, or even ask to. Most recently, I invited him and his girlfriend to my baby shower that my best friend is throwing. Instead of telling me he is too busy with his new job, his girlfriend (who is younger than me, which is difficult for me to accept, but I have been), sends me a message to let me know for him. The only thing I can think of is to take more of a stand and put more effort into trying, but it is so hard to try any harder when he acts this way to me. Thanks to anyone who actually read all of this.
I'm new. I’m reaching out for support here because I don’t know where else to go. I’ve distanced myself from everyone other than my husband and counselor out of shame. I pray and I go to counseling, but it just isn’t enough. I need help. Please be kind. I know I’ve done the unforgivable, but I’m having a hard time just making it through the day without killing myself anymore. My husband is considering divorce and he has very valid reasons. He moved out and many states away to live with his parents (he is 25) and asked me to move to the same area and get an apartment. I have. I’m currently just under five months pregnant with our first child and that is making the whole thing much harder. In theory, we are trying to work things out, but I don’t think he is sure of that decision. He left because I lied to him for years. It was a mistake. I thought I had a good reason when I started, but of course I didn’t, and once it started I didn’t know how to get out of it. I told him I had no contact with my biological family except for a sister. I did this because I was on very bad terms with them at the time and planned to cut them out of my life entirely, and didn’t want to involve him in the drama because I thought it would scare him away. We hadn’t been together very long when that lie started. But things didn’t work out the way I planned. The economy crashed, we lost our jobs, and I turned to those same relatives for money and they helped. But I didn’t know how to come clean with him and the lie continued. So I stayed in contact with them, gradually my relatives and I got along better, they continued to help out financially when we needed it, but I still wanted them out of my life. I continued the contact to get the money, to keep us off the streets. In short I used my relatives, and the lie to my now husband continued. I made excuses for where the money came from. He never knew. And that wasn’t the only thing I lied about. There was another big one: my age. We didn’t talk about it at all for a while. When he first thought to ask how old I was, it was after we’d slept together and actually moved in together with a roommate. And I panicked, because I was under 18 still (I’m 21 now) and he wasn’t. So I told him that I just didn’t like talking about my age and didn’t elaborate for months. And that is true; I don’t like talking about it. I spent a while on the streets as a young teen and then in an abusive live-in relationship with someone older, and I learned it was a bad idea to ever mention age because it could get me in trouble. Police could get called, I could go to foster care, and other fears. When he wouldn’t let it drop I lied about it too. I thought he would leave me over what I just saw as a number. I told him I didn’t know how old I was, because I didn’t have a copy of my birth certificate and there was some doubt surrounding my age. I supposedly got it cleared up just before we were married to keep up the lie and present a valid birth certificate in order to get married. I didn’t have a copy of my birth certificate for years while we lived together, but the reason wasn’t the one I gave him. We’ve been together roughly five years, married for under a year. We’ve lived together all but a few months of that time. We have had a lot of relationship problems aside from this. He has had two affairs with the same woman, so trust issues aren’t new to us, this is just the first time he hasn’t trusted me. There have been a few physical incidents as well, if you can call it that. He has held me down against my will on three different occasions and the last time it left marks. The last time was about a year ago now. We have fights that escalate, that started after I became pregnant. He didn’t touch me, just yelled and yelled after I asked him to stop, and I ended up in the ER immediately following two of the arguments because of bleeding and miscarriage scares and the doctor told me it was the stress. I nearly left him when things were bad after the ER incidents. Because we had another really bad fight, I locked myself in the bedroom and he kept yelling through the door, and then he called the police and told them I was armed and trying to hurt myself (neither were true, but since then he has said that he wanted them prepared for the worst.) The operator told him to get away from the door so I could get out, so I packed and left, and he followed me down the block until the police showed up. They checked me for weapons, saw his claim was false, and separated us. But I guess he still went to the magistrate to file some mental health thing against me. We reconciled, I thought. But while we were working on things, he had gotten in touch with my relatives and secretly asked them to fly to where we lived and help him confront me. They did. He moved out of state and so have I, at his request. There have actually been quite a few more problems than that, but I won’t get in to them right now. We’ve had a lot of wonderful times too and I want to save this marriage. A bit about the relatives. I moved out of their house as a young teen. My mother and I had a lot of problems and I didn’t feel safe. She self harmed, she was suicidal throughout my childhood, and we fought all the time. Not normal fights like teenagers and parents have, but stuff that would start small and really get out of hand, even when I tried hard to stop it. She also forced me on a medication that was supposed to be for chronic pain but caused psychotic episodes and I could never trust her after that, because she refused to let me stop taking it when I begged. Lots of bad things happened. I tried to talk to my father about everything that was happening with her, he wasn’t there much, and he didn’t believe me. So I brought him tape recordings of an argument, but he refused to listen to them. I stopped trusting him and I knew he would never protect me if I needed it. So when we got in a fight and she said I could leave and to never expect a welcome back, I left. I crashed on friends’ couches for a while until I ran out of places to stay. Then I lived on the streets and friends covered for me when people asked where I was. Then I got together with a guy who gave me a place to live. He became abusive. I have complex PTSD from that. I moved out after a couple of years to a different city. Things stayed bad with the relatives. We still fought, but over the phone instead. That was what it was like when my husband and I first got together. And now he is understandably hurt and angry. He lives with his parents. I live in an apartment in the same city, supposedly so we can work on our marriage. I’m pregnant. He is considering divorce. I’m in counseling to deal with a host of issues that I’m sure you can see here. He is trying to find a counselor for himself, with no luck so far. I want us to start marriage counseling, but he isn’t sure when or if that will happen. One of his other conditions for working this out is family counseling with my relatives, which my mother, father, and half-sister are supposed to attend with me if they are willing, but he will not be attending. I’ve signed consent forms so that my counselor can tell him everything that goes on in my sessions. I make sure there is proof every week that I’ve been there. I try to be completely transparent. But he has no interest in talking about the issues. I see him once in a while, but not much, because he wants distance. I’m trying really hard to find a job because I don’t have much money left at all, and we have a debt to clear up in our previous state as well. We have separate bank accounts now though. While I’m excited about the baby, the pregnancy hormones are making everything so much worse. But the baby is keeping me from smoking cigarettes, drinking, or doing anything self destructive that I might otherwise in this situation, and I know that is good at least. I do struggle with suicidal thoughts on an almost hourly basis right now, but I don’t want to do anything stupid because I love this baby. I hate to see my husband in so much pain and I know I caused it. I do want to fix things. I’m doing everything I can think of and everything he asks. It is so hard. I love him with all my heart; he is my husband and the father of the child I’m carrying. I’m a heartbroken wreck and I have only myself to blame. Please, any advice or support is most welcome. Please be kind though. I know what I’ve done. I’ve taken responsibility for it. I’m doing everything I can to fix things. And I can’t take much more. Thank you.