There are so many brave, incredible people here.
I know that I could be worse. I was diagnosed with ADHD (which is a bigger problem than people make it seem) and depression very young. My parents tried to help but helping with their personalities meant blindly following whatever douche my pediatrician had recommended. I was what I’ve always heard called a cocktail kid - given whatever they could get golf clubs from. I did a really stupid thing around 12 and stopped taking all of them cold turkey. Never, ever, ever do that, I’m amazed that I didn’t end up hospitalized, but they just wouldn’t listen. I’d tell them that something made me sick and they’d raise the dosage.
I have OCD, which has been severe in the past, but I’m doing better with managing some parts of it now. With OCD comes intrusive thoughts. My SO always tells me that I should just write horror because of what I can come up with, but I’m afraid that if I let it out to anyone but him, even a doctor, that they’ll happen.
I’ve always been a little skittish, but my anxiety really exploded as I got older, I think it was mostly birth control. I finally saw an adult neurologist, he diagnosed me with chronic intractable migraine, switched my stimulant and added an antidepressant/anti-anxiety and Topamax medication. I had a few bad reactions and a switch flipped in my head. I started seeing someone for cognitive behavioral therapy, which helped for a while, but then I started failing. [name_u]Ever[/name_u] notice how everything is your fault when their techniques just aren’t helping all that much? I failed. I went from weird girl with anxiety to a panic machine. Everything was wrong with me.
I have hypochondria. It’s usually normal fears (cancer, heart problems, blood clots), but lately more exotic extremely improbable things (necrotizing fasciitis, spongiform encephalopathy, but they said that that was included in the cord blood test) and I know I’m missing several things that just haven’t been big concerns lately. That’ll bother me when they come up later, like forgetting them will cause them.
I don’t know what it is, if it’s part of social anxiety, but I have this compulsive urge to decimate any relationship I have, and I’m pretty good at it. I would ignore friends all throughout elementary school, which you would think would be a sign, but the doctor thought I was just looking for attention. I completely destroyed the tiny social life I had as a teenager, and almost drove [name_m]Kevin[/name_m] completely away when I was about 16 (we met online when I was 13), but I’d rather not relive that. I think the only reason that we’re still together is that he’s just exactly the same way. I think it made our relationship stronger in some weird way.
I have periods of acute paranoia and psychosis. I think there’s something else wrong with me, but my last therapist grouped it in with anxiety. It’s never anything violent, but a complete disconnect from reality. For days I have a thing, I don’t know what else to call it. There is a pattern - I’ll have a thought, thought becomes fear, fear becomes panic, panic panic panic, spend a few days shaking in a corner because it’s so totally going to happen, argue with SO that his statistics and research are flawed, slowly start to break through it, I start to realize that the topic is improbable, I reason, consult SO, reason, consult SO, over and over until I’ve broken through it myself. [name_f]Hope[/name_f] it doesn’t happen again for a while. I have no idea when it’s going to happen, what it’s going to be about.
SO was diagnosed this year with Bipolar Disorder II after a particularly terrifying experience. He hadn’t been himself for a long time, but it was getting worse. He had been struggling with depression but was uninsured and we just couldn’t swing the bill. The mixture of the wrong medicine, dropping off of the wrong medicine, and not sleeping enough really brought it out. We started arguing one morning. I can’t go into this. It ended with him involuntarily committed, a precautionary CPS investigation, We call it the serotonin accident to anyone who asks.
I think that’s the only time that I felt truly suicidal, but at the same time I had to stand up for him, and be a mommy, and not say anything in any of my few social outlets and I still can’t. I didn’t even tell my doctor how I was feeling because when I told him about that morning he understandably focused completely on what was happening with SO. I still haven’t told SO either. I hated him. For months we were in the same horrible situation, but we finally knew why. I just didn’t love him, and not because of his diagnosis, because of what he did and how he didn’t seem to care to take care of it after the first week or so. He’s doing a lot better now and our relationship is better than it’s been for years most of the time, but if I’m completely honest, I’m still afraid of him sometimes. I think that if he were completely honest, I would very very rarely, less than 1% of the time, have a reason to be.
I just generally hate myself. I’ve taken to calling social anxiety what it is: Self Loathing. I feel like a (expletive) mommy. I’m so impatient and boring. I don’t know how to play with him or stimulate him and all of my story/stuffy voices sound the same. This is all I’ve ever wanted and I’m failing. I was supposed to be the successful one, but as I progressed through school, I was dropped into lower and lower classes until I left to do cyber school, where they actually cared that I was bored and placed me appropriately and not based on my grades. I finished two years in seven months (after lying aroubd for five months). I should have gone to college, even community college, but I stayed in another year because my mother wanted to see me walk in some ceremony and I was so stupid and went along with it. [name_m]How[/name_m] could I have (expletive) that up? I think everyone here and anywhere else I participate thinks I’m a troll. I asked to do a guest blog and I just can’t do it. I couldn’t even respond to the wonderful replies on the Mad Scribblers thread. I’m 22 and by the time I find a career, I’m not sure it’ll be worth it. I think I’ve proven pretty well that I’m not going to be a writer. I can’t look at people when I speak to them and I was crazy enough to reproduce and pass all of this (expletive) onto an innocent, perfect little person. He is my entire life and I destroyed his by being who I am. SO likes to point out the silver lining of it all - at least, when he’s older, we’ll know what to look for. It’s all gotten a little better the further out from pregnancy I get. I think it was really so bad for so long because of birth control and then preggo hormones.
Hey, look at that, I ended up venting still didn’t get to everything. I need a new therapist.