So, recently I cut a few times on my arm, and I kept going to the grocery store and about half way through shopping I would realize that I was wearing a t-shirt. I then started freaking out and tried to hide my arm for the rest of my shopping, because I was only picking up a couple items, and didn't feel like running out and then coming back after changing my shirt...
It felt a bit weird, I was thinking 'what if they think I'm trying to hide track marks or something? Which is worse?'
I then started wondering why I was trying to hide my cuts, is it because I'm embarrassed for cutting? Or is it because I don't want to upset everyone else? I realized that I was really trying to hide them because I didn't want to upset people around me, potentially trigger someone else, and I was like screw this! I shouldn't care about what others think. If I keep forgetting, it must be for some reason, so I started wearing a t-shirt on purpose.
I was just wondering if anyone else has had similar thoughts/experiences?
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
I don't want to go to work tomorrow.
It's only 9am and I'm already angsting about work tomorrow.
It's not like I do anything when I'm not at work. Really. I walk the dog and then I sit on the couch. Sometimes I turn on the tv, but don't process it. Sometimes I read, but don't process it.
I do better at work: maybe I use up my ability to focus and process stuff when I'm at work. Not to say work is good. I fuck up there kind of a lot. I don't think they'll offer me the job when my contract expires in February (and I'm not sure I want it).
I think I need my meds increased. I don't know how pdoc will do it though. Too much Parnate drops my bp and I feel dizzy. Too much is more than 20mg at a time or 20mg doses less than 3 hours apart. Pdoc thinks taking Parnate late in the day (say, after 2pm) is why I wake up at night. Since I already take my first dose at 6am, there's not exactly much time to add another dose.
I don't want to go to work tomorrow. My boss makes me feel stupid. I make me feel stupid.
I want to cut. Badly.
I don't want to go to work tomorrow. It's only 9am and I'm already angsting about it. *sigh*
Is it time to just give up and find a new tdoc?
I've never had a response to the emails I've sent. I've only sent a couple; I don't want to abuse the privilege. No response, by email or phone or anything. Not even the time I said I wished she'd called and told me herself that she can't see me regularly until January.
No word back of any kind about support groups.
No other contact. She hasn't reached out to check on me. There's no way to, like, leave a voicemail for her asking if she'd call. Ten minutes of her time would be nice.
It makes me feel like a paycheque rather than someone she cares about. Which is fine, I suppose. I am a paycheque. I'm not paying out right now.
I spoke to her office yesterday about a billing error. The secretary said "I see you had an appointment last night that you didn't come to" I told her that no one contacted me about an appointment - before or after. "Oh, I'll tell tdoc that." If tdoc was expecting to see me, and I didn't show, why didn't she call?
I really feel like I have stuff to talk about now. Right now. I'm moving on the weekend. I need help with the transition back to living alone. I need to talk about my job. I need to talk about being lonely and scared and stuff. Now. Not in January.
Should I just move on and find a different tdoc? The benefit to this one is I worked with her at an IOP program (so she knows me already) and she gets me. However, I've only had a handful of sessions with her.
Pdoc once recommended someone in her office. Maybe I should ask about that on Friday when I see her.
Hello I'm Woody, some one called me that the other day so I thought I would go with that name. I also loved Toy story when I was a kid. Not very good at summarising so apologise, this will possible turn into an essay. Will probably also provide far to much information too but not good at knowing what to say or what not to say. so either I say nothing or everything. I'm female (23) though normally I feel a lot younger. Found CB when googling about SI. Or more, reasons why I shouldn't. So that covers one part of why I am here. I've been self harming since I was about 13. starting with taking overdoses and then moving on to cutting. I hadn't done it in seven weeks till last week. and I'm trying not to do it again... I wonder how long that will last. Em history.. I've been hospitalised 6 times I think starting when I was 14 last time a few months ago. I've been diagnosed with ASD (Asperger's Syndrome specifically) with PDA (Pathological Demand Avoidance Syndrome) ADD, ODD, Dyspepsia, Dyslexia, Synsnasia And Sensory Processing disorder. Took quite a while to be diagnosed with anything but when I did got a load at once. Currently doing Schema therapy once a week. It helps but is really hard. This week will be seventeenth session and see Pdoc (is that psychiatrist?) sometimes once a week, sometimes once a month. Was sexually abused as a kid and raped when I was 18. Em so have PTSD too (Don't know if I've actually been diagnosed with that officially but every time I see doc she refers to what going on with me under that name, I don't really care at this stage there's been so many clinical labels its overloading sometimes, and really its all just different parts of me.) I'm good a dissociating, I've been told, but I'm meant to trying not to do that cause its just away of avoiding what really going on but I am very good at avoiding too and suffer from depression with borderline behaviours (what ever that means). If I were to put all these acronyms after my name I'd look super qualified. I deferred college this year (Just got through First Year) because I was too afraid to go back. Turns out I am a perfectionist and get so afraid of failure I just wont even begin. Which in itself is Failure. I'm ruled by logic but sometimes my emotions override that and I go into a state of abstract logic which may not be logic at all. But I can convince myself otherwise. Right now I feel horrible, can't eat (that parts new), cant sleep can't concentrate. Though I should maybe start writing a bit more cause this is helping a little bit. Out in the world, when I manage to go out, I hold everything in. (not by choice, not not by choice, I don't know how to explain.) I'm generally very honest, blunt. with nearly everything but how I am feeling. I just can't seem to express how I feel. I suppose I feel locked inside myself when out in the world. And I want to take control and tell the truth, say how I feel but its like I'm not in control of me. I go to say "actually no I'm absolutely not OK, I'm not coping, I feel so alone, I'm not safe." but I can't, the journey the words make from my mind to my voice feels broken. as if I have a virus there and I cant be honest in they most important way and all I can say is "I'm OK" and I'm not. at home the last few days is unbearable either I'm in tears (at least I can still cry, maybe I should see that as a good thing.) or I'm numb. sometimes its a bit like being stuck on an aeroplane, not going anywhere, with a foggy feeling in my head unable to concentrate on anything, irritated by background noise and restless. Recently I think the only thing keeping me alive is having ASD and my logical mind, being unable to believe in anything. Like faith. If I had faith I'd be dead. but I don't and I'm terrified of the unknown, too much to do anything. but I'm not really living. I'm alive, surviving but not living.. I could write a lot more but I think I've probably wrote to much already. Maybe I'll write some more in another post and maybe ill be able to be more positive another time. But today... I'm absolutely not OK. (I've read the User Agreement, but will read it again as I might forget some of it sometime.)