Okay well I'm having bad anxiety and my chest hurts and there is nothing i can take so i gave up, grabbed a drink, and now i'm gonna bitch about how i got here.
(hopefully i don't make too many mistakes, i'm shaking more than i thought.)
Gonna just skim over the first half of my life because if i didn't this post would be novel, of course if there is anything you want clarification on or what to hear more in depth just let me know and i can make more posts. I'm not gonna try and hide anything on here if i can help it.
From roughly 6-8 years of age i'm pretty sure i had hallucinations? I've never really discussed it with anyone so i'm not gonna make any false claims but i know what i saw wasn't real but it was consistent and i also don't know why it just stopped.
From the age of 9 is when i started actively showing symptoms of depression (negative thoughts, loss of interests, general sadness.)
My parents spanked me(& my brother) when we were young but were never really physically abusive (isolated incidents included: grabbing, throwing things mostly coins, my brother got hit once by my mom that i saw, and not sure if this counts but threatening to climb over counters and kill/strangle us.)
Other than that My parents were also verbally, emotionally, and mentally abusive getting as far as it being a daily occurrence in my teens.
Anyways from 9-15 my mood plummeted and i had sleeping issues, eating issues, hygiene, grades in school etc. I was a total obvious mess, some teachers really pitied me but i suppose felt powerless to help- they probably were, but most people (including my family) just ignored it they felt it would go away with time perhaps.
I was suicidal during that time as well and generally held myself back because i thought i would embarrass my parents and for some reason i thought everyone in the family was normal and healthy and i didn't want to be that 'child' that ruined a family.
At 14 i met this friend and at 15 we got into a relationship (at the time was considered same sex) with their family being super reserved christians and mine being homophobic (specifically my father) we kept it secret.
15-18 the depression was palpable and the anxiety was really rearing it's head, but felt like it wasn't as bad because for the first time in my life i felt like my feelings were real, that i existed and it was okay that maybe, just maybe i wasn't okay.
At 17 i finally had the ability to admit that i wasn't okay and that i needed and wanted help (at this point my parents were divorced so i had to do this twice and my mom didn't wanna deal with it)
so i met a counselor and i felt very disconnected with her, didn't understand what she wanted and i was still in full blown depression which made it all difficult. The pdoc was a shock for me, he was distant and i felt like he talked to me for ten minutes then through pills my way. Pdoc dx was social anxiety and clinical depression and the treatment was cipralex. It was at least a month in of no improvement (and i told the counselor that i felt no change with the meds) then I missed an appointment, not intentionally but it was missed nonetheless. She called my house and talked to my father (it was a couple days later when i found this out) My father insisted that i missed the appointment on purpose and my counselor agreed saying that i hadn't hit rock bottom yet and she was dropping my file.
I was devastated. I was angry. i had fought the majority of my life until that point just to stay alive, to be functional and i hadn't struggled enough to impress her and my dad was more than happy to end wasting his gas money driving. I felt like i had hit an epiphany; i wasn't going to rely on anyone else, they all let me down or hated me, fuck them all.
At 17 I lost the relationship with my SO, again something that needs it's own post to explain. I was running on mental and emotional fumes, always angry and sad and sick with anxiety; holding a job and school and dealing with my parents abuse as well as their problems they dumped on me.
18 i caught up with my ex, we and two others drank copious amounts of alcohol (the first time for myself) and i didn't go home for two days- no one knowing exactly where i was. I started consistently SH and a week later i moved to my dads house which was a couple hours away from where i grew up. It was a small town i moved too and i thought maybe i could forget who i was and have a new start, in three months i had been promoted at my job (just a fast food place) and all seemed well. However i was in near constant anxiety/panic attacks at work and at home, i couldn't sleep and i basically refused to leave my room. Nearly every minute of my life was a crisis and i just couldn't accept that i really needed help.
I assumed i needed to just focus on having a career and i moved back in with my mom after 9 months being with my father. I did sound for my mom's band at night (nearly only weekends) and during the week i worked in a small pizza shop. At night my mom bought me drinks and it became custom that i was drunk while working and i have panic attacks at my other job. the SH became the only thing that calmed me down during the attacks and the only thing that made me feel good when i couldn't feel anything at all.
Everything about my existence was heading downhill and after a couple suicide attempts that failed to make any real mark my friend came home from college one weekend and took me to the closest hospital. I was admitted and stayed there for about 3 weeks; being released just after my 20th birthday. i was in an outpatient program and 2 1/2 after my release my new counselor decided it was best to re-admit me. while in the hospital i was quiet and polite. i also pretended to take my pills but actually stashed them until i had enough to get high, i also snuck in a razor (wasn't a good psych ward) and SH'd in the hospital. I faked feeling better so i could leave after another 2 week stay. The outpatient proggram ended up giving me the dx of GAD, MDD, and BPD and my final meds were prozac and remeron.
after that i did outpatient until mid August of 2014, and i thought i was doing well, meds weren't enough but i thought i had the skills to get me through. Fast forward to March 2015/present time I'm writing this and I'm so lucky, i had a new job that kept me active and trying to be social but i lost my meds and lost my control, then got my meds back and was recognized for DBT (im waiting on a phone assessment and interview), truly all i need to do is wait until april to start therapy again. i had to leave my job although my boss is still supporting me and wants to give me my job back when im ready (My boss is amazing i wish everyone had a boss like i do)
I skipped more stuff than i intended too but i spent hours on this and i'm drun k now so fuck it idc. like i said at the beginning my anxiety is trying to murder me and i can't stop it so forgive me. i' might admit myself soon, this is so bad. if there is anythign you want me to talk bout just tell me. better to get me now before i lock myself up
P.S. FUCK EDITING