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ewgoals · 4 years

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Face The Truth

Plot: The reader has Bipolar Disorder and takes pills to keep her in check but one day she decides to stop taking the pills and Harry notices the change in the woman he loves very much.

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of s*x and suicide attempt.

Y/N was diagnosed with Bipolar disorder when she was 17, the young girl didn't understand it at all. What happened? Why did she get this and none of her siblings did? She knew something was wrong when she felt like she couldn't control small things. There were moments when she had an obscene amount of energy like she could run thousands of miles without getting tired. There were also some days where she felt like she could sleep all day like it wouldn't matter how long she slept she was beyond exhausted. When Y/N finally got the answers that made everything make more sense, she was able to finally get herself on a steady regimen of various pills. The longer she took them the better she began to feel and after a few months, she began to feel like herself again. Y/N began finally going after the career she always wanted since she was a little girl and that was a lawyer, she began applying herself to her school work more and actually managed to reverse the damage her illness caused in the beginning.

Y/N was now 23, she finally had true control of her life that was until her friend talked her into going to an audition. Y/N couldn't believe she actually got the role of a lifetime in the DC movie Batgirl, this was beyond shocking to her but she still managed to keep her composure knowing that shocking or stressful situations could trigger a manic episode. Y/N kept her so-called dirty secret to herself, never wanting to tell anyone around for fear of being judged or better yet losing her job. She didn't think that it was going to affect her work relationship, so she didn't reveal it. Y/N managed to keep her secret to herself through all of the filming as well as post-production. Y/ N didn't think her life could take a turn anymore that was until she met him.

Y/N was at the premiere of Batgirl when they actually met Y/N and didn't really know who Harry Styles was. She heard about him through High School but she was more into old 80's rock and Black Veil Brides, she was more interested in his fashion-loving how he managed to bring in old fashion from previous decades and somehow make it his own. Y/N and Harry got along pretty quickly bonding over various bands they listened too and how their views of the world blended well together effortlessly. They exchanged numbers and went on with the day, Y/N didn't think much of it but she kept the number close.

Y/N without even noticing began talking to Harry almost every day, if it wasn't through texts or calls it was facetime. Y/N didn't want to admit that slowly feelings were developing but she didn't want to get herself worked up by nothing. The woman kept her feelings close to her until Harry showed up one day at her apartment, she didn't know that he was going to show or even be in New York. Harry looked nervous as he paced for a minute, this caused the woman to get very anxious before the brown-haired man said "Listen, I've been debating saying anything because well who knows if these feelings are even shared" Y/N was watching the man confused as she smiled "Okay Harry take a deep breath, now try and tell me what you need to say" Harry listened to the calming voice of the woman and nodded.

"I think this could be the beginning of something great, I feel like I could truly learn new things from you. I mean I can see us being together, I was sitting at the piano writing a song and it was coming together beautifully and while I was sitting there it hit me. The reason it was coming together was because all I thought about was you" Y/N was shocked but she managed to keep her smile contained for the most part as Harry continued "I was trying to not ruin this because our friendship is one of the purest things I have right now" Y/N just shook her head and smiled before she finally stopped the man from rambling by kissing him softly. Harry instantly relaxed as he finally slid his hand up and cupped her face slowly melting into the kiss, Y/N pulled away slowly as she whispered "I feel the same way... I was too scared to admit that to you because I wanted this to remain how we are. You keep me on the edge of my seat with your opinion about small things." Harry smiled as he just kissed the woman again.

Y/N and Harry have been together for almost a year now, Y/N doesn't know how she managed to keep her illness hidden from Harry but she did. Y/N was currently touring with Harry due to the fact she took a few weeks off from the movie she was working on without even remembering Y/N forgot her medication at home, at first it wasn't really a big deal but then the mania started to really take over. Y/N was staying up to all hours of the night never really feeling tired, she would often just lay in bed with Harry until he fell asleep then she would leave and begin doing random things around the hotel. One night she reorganized her and Harry's bags making sure everything fit properly and was sorted to the way she liked it, Harry would often find her up walking around or doing some random thing. Y/N was enjoying the mania.

Y/N rolled off of Harry, laying down next to the man keep herself wrapped up in the sheet stretching her back out as Harry said "I know that I should be enjoying the fact that you can't get enough of me" He joked but quickly continued with "but you've been up for days I don't think I've seen you sleep" Y/N shook her head "No, I'm just fine. I swear. I think I'm just not used to the different time zones every night. It's probably just jet lag or something" Y/N knew exactly what it was but she didn't want to admit that to him. He would leave her. She knew that "are you doing meth" Y/N gasped but shaking her head as quickly as she could "No, I would never. I've just been a little preoccupied that's all." Harry just nodded before he wrapped his arms around her body as he pulled her close into his chest "Just sleep please" Y/N nodded as she buried her face into his chest for the first time in a few weeks the woman managed to finally let herself relax. This was the first day of a long month.

Y/N fell asleep keeping Harry close as possible, Harry managed to get himself out of bed at a reasonable time when he looked over he saw Y/N still asleep. Part of him worried because the girl fell asleep around 10 pm and it was now going at 10 am. Harry decided to just let the woman he cared for to relax a little bit more feeling like she needed it especially since she hasn't been sleeping at all. Harry came back to the hotel room after the show which put the time around 12 am Y/N was still sleeping "Hey, Y/N what's going on?" Y/N heard the familiar voice which caused her to finally open her eyes as she said "Nothing just tired don't worry" Harry looked around the hotel room as he raised an eyebrow "Who all came in here?" Y/N just shrugged "I think a few members of the band. They had some drinks and tried to wake me up" Harry wasn't going to lie to himself, Y/N was in a bad position and he couldn't wrap his head around what it was.

It had been a week and no matter what Harry tired he couldn't manage to get Y/N out of bed unless they had to leave the hotel room to go to the next, Y/N hadn't been eating and she really only got out of bed to use the restroom other than that her personal hygiene and just the will to do anything was completely gone, Harry truly felt like he saw the woman he fell in love with completely begin to wither away. She had begun to lose weight, her hair was oily and no matter how much she slept she couldn't make the tiredness go away. Harry truly felt powerless, he decided that it was time to force the woman out of bed at least for a shower. When Harry returned from his show that night he finally worked up enough courage to say "Y/N get out of bed. You need to take a shower, maybe that will help you feel a little better" Y/N pulled the blanket over her head for she said "Leave me alone Harry" Harry shook his head before pulling the blanket away from the woman "Get up now. I'm not taking no for an answer" Y/N didn't know what happened but she began to cry "I can't Harry. I just can't"

Harry's eyes widened a little when he saw the woman crying, he walked over to where she was still laying down as he crouched down "Hey.. what do you mean?" Y/N just closed her eyes trying to make sure that her voice didn't completely give out on her "Please don't leave. I know I'm this huge bother.... I know that I'm holding you back.. I know that you could do so much better than me but please don't leave" Harry shook his head before putting his hand on the woman's cheek trying to wipe a few of the tears as he said "I would never. Y/N I love you" That was the first time in their one year relationship where either of them said those three words. Y/N looked at the man as she shook her head trying to hold back her few tears "no you don't Harry I've been lying for a whole year" Harry raised an eyebrow horrible thoughts were running through the man's head as Y/N finally kept speaking "I'm Bipolar... I stopped taking my meds so that you wouldn't see them" Harry eyes widened before he shook his head "Y/N, you can't do that my love. I promise you that your mental health is never going to change my feelings about you. if anything this makes me love you more because of how strong you are. God I thought you were strong before but this just changes how strong I think you are now"

Y/N finally sat up for the first time in what felt like years to her boyfriend, the woman ran her hand through her hair as she closed her eyes for a moment as she spoke “I need a shower” Harry chuckled a little as the woman smiled “I don’t want to say you do because that’s rude but i think that you should” Y/N laughed which caused Harry to smiled wide, it was the first time in what felt like forever as Y/N opened her eyes once more Harry was met with those beautiful Y/E/C that he fell so in love with “I love you too” was the words that slipped out of Y/N mouth. Harry smiled before he leaned up and kissed the woman’s forehead. Y/N rested her eyes as he kissed her forehead before she finally stood which caused Harry to stand as well “I’m going to go take a shower” Y/N said as Harry nodded, the woman left Harry in the hotel as she turned on the shower.

Y/N was sitting on the closed toilet as she looked around, she felt like Harry was lying and that he was going to wait until he felt that she was so called back to normal and leave her. Y/N looked around the bathroom as she began thinking “I know that I am holding him back. I know that he is better off without me I know that he deserves more” these thoughts kept going through her head as she quickly grabbed her make up bag and began searching through thee large bag and finding her pair of scissors that she hid just in case she needed to cut the tag off of something or need of an emergency haircut. The woman quickly dug the scissors into her forearm before she registered the man to herself and let out a scream she dug the scissors into both of her arms. Y/N dropped the scissors as she fell onto the floor gasping for a moment before the door finally opened. Y/N gasped as Harry walked in dropping the bag that he carried into the bathroom

Harry dropped to his knees quickly grabbing at the woman’s wrist applying pressure “Y/N what happened? What did you do?” the woman just shook her head trying to remove herself from Harry’s but his grip was too strong “stop it love” the man quickly grabbed his phone as he called 911 Y/N started crying., Harry hung up the phone gripping onto her arms tightly not letting go like the 911 operator told him too. It didn’t take long for the paramedics to arrive at the hotel , Y/N tried closing her eyes as Harry shook his head “No, you look at me. You keep right here Y/N” Y/N opened her eyes as she looked at Harry “Please stop. Please” The paramedics quickly removed Harry from the woman and began working on her, deciding to get her to the hospital as quickly as possible. Harry followed into the ambulance as he kept looking at her hands “Please don’t die”

72 hours have officially passed and even though Harry couldn’t see the woman he still stayed at the hospital, Y/N was placed back on her medication and kept under a very watchful eye. Harry was finally able to see the woman and Y/N smiled when she saw the curly haired man who looked tired and still in the same clothes “Harry” was all she whispered as Harry almost ran towards the woman he loved as he grabbed her hand “Y/N, Why?” Y/N knew she would have to talk about this sooner or later “I wasn’t thinking clearly the depression got the best of me. I’m sorry i put you through that and I can’t say that it won’t happen again because it might,even with the mood stabilizers.”

Y/N took a breath as she fought back the tears once more “One small thing could ruin years of work. I know that what I did was so stupid and I can’t take it back but all I can promise is that I will make sure that you never have to literally save my life again. I promise that if i am feeling down with my disorder I’ll open up and tell you. I won’t keep it bottled up inside of me. I will allow you to try and understand it for the better.” Harry nodded as he kissed the woman’s hand “I’ve never been so scared. I thought I lost you” Y/N felt horrible guit as she quickly hugged the man pulling him as close as she could given her serious injuries “I’m sorry I put you through this pain, If you need time I understand but I need you to know that you will always have my heart with you”

Harry shook his head as he said “No, I just need you to remember I love you. I want you and I want to help you.” Harry pulled away for a moment as he kissed the side of her head “ I canceled the last few shows, We are going back to your apartment and we are going to work through this and we are going to make sure that you feel better” Y/N smiled as he kissed him softly as she ran her hand through his hair “I love you so much Harry”

A/N: I know that you are feeling some type away because of this, I know this was hard to read and I need you to understand that I have been through this and I’ve felt this pain and I know that it’s difficult to think about. If you are like me and you struggle with Bipolar disorder please understand you aren’t alone and you have me if you need. If you want part two let me know because I have many more ideas for this also Requests are open for Harry Styles Imagines if you have any plot you want to be written. Oh! Not my gif!

#harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #one direction #one direction imagine #harry styles au meme #harry styles

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neeharlow · 3 years

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Nee’s Bipolar Life: Part One

Since it’s disability pride month I thought I’d tell you about the time a male doctor tried to take away my bipolar diagnosis. (tldr: a bit about the struggles I faced growing up with bipolar and how a shit head tried to take away my diagnosis after only just meeting me and reading my file)

It took five years to finally pin down a diagnosis. My bipolar was always there, now that I look back. All those times I was surrounded by any toy I could possibly want but was “bored” all the time when I was very young I realize now was my first signs of depression. I’d lay on my bedroom floor and just stare up at the ceiling for hours, it wasn’t that I had nothing to do, I just didn’t find anything worth doing. So all those times I was “bored”, there were a lot of them, it was the depression. Then the times I would be awake for sometimes days at a time, talking nonstop, feeling invisible, and running around like a child jacked up on sugar I see now that was the first signs of mania. And my parents didn’t really do anything cause they didn’t know anything about mental illness. As I grew I began acting out.

My first time being in a mental hospital came when I was 12. I was bullied mercilessly at school and I wanted to kill myself. I told the counsel and she told my parents to take me down. I was there for a three day hold. It was at this time that I had my first prescription for zoloft. I released and looking back they released me cause I was happy. But I realize now that, because zoloft can do this (and has done it to me in recent years) when it’s by itself in bipolar people that it had sent me into a manic episode. But to my parents I was just really, really, really happy and after seeing my so miserable for so long they were happy too.

The first doctor they took me to was a man. I don’t remember his name. But he misdiagnosed me (I don’t remember with what I was 12 and I am now 32 years old, it’s been a while.) and put me on a drug called neurontin. It seemed to work a while. But then something happened and I was hospitalized again. I don’t remember for what, but I am pretty sure it was suicide related. Anyway, the next time I saw him he says: “Well if she wanted to kill herself she would not have {don’t remember} instead she would have just taken down a while bottle of pills.” with me right there in the room. Parents were PISSED. Never went back to him.

As they years went by things changed. For the worse. When I turned 14 my parents confessed to my that I was abandoned when I was three. I had always known that they were my grandparents, but they had raised me telling that my mother loved me, she just couldn’t take care of me. That fucked with my head. Although I understand why my parents lied, it still fucked me up mentally. This was also during a time I was being treated for anorexia. Which, I didn’t fucking have anorexia. I will live and die on that fucking hill. If anything they convinced me I had it and I went along with it so I could be done. I didn’t care about my weight. Yes, I ate once a day. I was in high school at the time and I’d rather hang out with my friends than eat. I passed out day three of High School and they did some tests and found that I had been “abusing laxatives” and concluded I had anorexia. No. When I was in fifth grade I was so constipated they had to stick a tube down my nose to give me some liquid super laxatives. I hadn’t gone to the bathroom for a couple days before I had passed out and took a bunch of them in fear that I would have to go through that again. That was just bad timing. But as you’ll learn it wasn’t the first time doctors have fucked me

As I grew older my bipolar worsened. I began being extremely impulsive and promiscuous with boys in my neighborhood. But because I hadn’t been diagnosed with anything my parents just thought I was just a rebellious teenager. My birth day, their son, had these issues too apparently so they had gone through this before. (btw he probably had bipolar too but never got diagnosed which is why he ended up killing himself but I’ll get to that in another post.) They tried buying books about misbehaving teens and sending me to a bunch of therapists. One fucking cunt even tried to tell them to send me to military school, which I swear to you, I would have killed myself. No I’m not being dramatic. I would have straight up killed myself in some dumb scheme to ‘get back at them’.

When I was 15 they finally sent me to see female doctor. She diagnosed me after three visits. Got me started on some pills and I began to level out. Now I wasn’t exactly better, but I wasn’t jumping between depressed and mania constantly. I was still impulsive but not nearly as bad. But I had finally gotten a diagnosis. I still had to be hospitalized in a mental hospital and go to group therapy things but that’s just something I had to do.

Fast forward to when I was 21. I wanted to kill myself. So again I was hospitalized. Also, when I’m hospitalized I’m usually pretty chill. I’m calm, respectful, and I listen and do whatever thing they need me to do. Enter Dr. Fuck Face. After reading my file, (not even talking to me.) I am called into a meeting with him and four other doctors. He looks at me, how calm I am. And he says to me: “I don’t believe you have bipolar, you just make terrible decisions.” I blinked a few times and gave him a look of confusion. He had never met me before this moment. He only had read my file. I told him, “I don’t think that’s right.” he shook his head and said, “You don’t have bipolar.” and excused me. I left the room and I was released the next day. I had to go through a group therapy thing after that, and I told the woman doctor whet he had said. She shook her head in disbelief.

The moral of today’s tale, Male doctors are full of themselves and if you’re a female and they say some stupid shit, get a second opinion from a female doctor.

#very long post #personal bullshit #I just had to get this out #you don't have to read it if you don't want to #tw: suicide #tw: anorexia #tw: bipolar #disability pride month #Nee's Bipolar Life: Part One

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thechangeling · 4 years

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The Fall

This is a one shot I wrote about my OC Gianna Blackthorn-Rosales, one of Kierarktina's kids. Full disclosure, I don't have bipolar, but I do suffer from depression and I did some research to fill in the blanks. Thank you to Halima and Ellie from helping me with the Spanish.

Tw for Depression and suicidal thoughts.

When Gianna woke up, she felt as though she was under water. Her limbs were heavy as if they were weighted down with led. Her alarm was blaring from her phone with zero sympathy. Gianna groaned and fumbled around for her phone to turn it off.

Shit. She felt like absolute garbage. Everything hurt. Everything felt hallow and empty like a great big hole had been carved out of her chest. Mornings were never fun, but today especially sucked. The idea of moving to get up, or even keeping her eyes open felt like absolute torture.

Gigi had recently come down from a manic episode and now she was sinking, unable to stay afloat. Not that she even really wanted to. Not right now at least.

That's when she remembered. Today was test day. Of fucking course. Testing day was when every shadowhunter under 18 had to undergo a series of skill tests, with weapons and also hand to hand combat. They were given scores based on how well they did and then those scores then were sent back to the Clave.

Of course it had to be today of all days. That was the problem with mental illness. It didn't care if you had a schedule to keep or things you needed to do. It just bulldozed it's way through your life, screwing everything up and then leaving you to clean up the mess.

Gianna grabbed her phone and typed out a quick message to her brother Nico.

I'm sick today, tell mama I can't do it.

Her therapist would tell her that avoidance wasn't healthy, but she would argue that sleeping right now was definitely the best thing for her. Unfortunately in fights such as these, the professionals usually won.

Gianna felt guilt and shame start to trickle in, greeting her like old friends. You're pathetic. You're a pitiful excuse for a shadowhunter. That's what everyone else is thinking and they're right. You're worthless. Everyone would be better of if you were gone.

Her phone vibrated next to her with a text from Nico. Gianna picked it up, already knowing what it would say.

Shadowhunters don't get sick. No one will buy it. Come on Gigi you need to try. He wrote.

Gianna fought the urge to scream. Try? Like she wasn't trying? Did they all think she was pulling this crap on purpose for shits and giggles? She was really getting sick of most people.

She was sick of her parents, sick of her siblings, sick of her cousins Ellie and Anthony even though they didn't get to see each other very often.

She was even sick of Anabla. Which made Gianna very scared. She loved her girlfriend but sometimes everything just became too overwhelming. Her father was always busy running his kingdom and whenever she went to Unseelie, many people always made it very clear that she was not welcome. Her father didn't even really understand how mental illness worked, but then again neither did her mama and papa.

Shadowhunters weren't supposed to be sick and neither were faeries.

Suddenly there was a banging on her door. "Gianna!" She heard her mother's voice on the other side of the door "¿Qué esta pasando?"

Gianna shut her eyes. Maybe if she pretended to be asleep her mama would leave her alone. It was unlikely but still. Her mother pounded on the door again. "Alleya!" She shouted angrily.

Well fuck. That was never good. As soon as her mother used Gianna's fae name, it meant that she was in big trouble.

"Ok yeah I'm coming!" She yelled back. Gianna took a deep breath and pulled herself to her feet.

I can do this. She thought to herself. It's gonna be ok. Just get though this then you can go back to bed.

She put on her gear and began to braid her hair into a faerie style. It was a personal tradition of Gianna's, to braid her hair like a faerie and pull it back so that her pointy ears were exposed whenever she had an offical shadowhunter event of some kind.

Outside she could hear the sounds of Shadowhunters arriving at The New York Institute by portal. Gianna and her family had slept over at the institute so they wouldn't have to travel. She could instantly hear the cheerful loud voices of her cousins, as well as her aunts and uncles greeting each other.

One big happy family.

Gianna could feel the aches in her muscles as if she was sore from a good work out. Getting through testing would be absolute hell.

But she would do it. She grabbed her bow from it's hook on her bedroom wall as well as her quiver of arrows, and marched outside to meet her fate.

The wave of liveliness hit Gianna like a truck. There were older shadowhunters gossiping and catching up with one another, while teenagers and kids of all ages darted excitedly around each other gathering their weapons and gear. She noticed her mama and papa talking with her tías, Helen and Aline. Nico was being bombarded by hugs from their tìo Jules and tìa Emma. Even though they were all on her papa's side of the family, her mama had no siblings. In fact she didnt have any family she was in constant contact with since they were all in Mexico. So at her mama's request, Gianna called all of her papa's siblings tía or tío as a way to keep her connected to her culture.

As for her father's side of the family, it was basically just a long string of "these people want me dead", so nobody was getting any names of any kind.

Then there was Kit and Ty, who Gianna called by their first names because they were so close. She had always felt better connected to them for some reason.

Speaking of.

She spotted them over by the corner if the room. Ty had his headphones on and Kit was hugging-

Oh great.

She was here.

Mina freaking Carstairs.

Wonderful.

Which begged the question, what was she doing here exactly? She was 18. She was supposed to be done with these sorts of tests.

Gianna watched as perfect Mina rushed over to great a screaming Ellie, who was her Parabatai, and Anthony and that was when it dawned on her. Right. Of course.

Mina had come to watch them.

The perfect supportive friend and Parabatai. Always smiling. Always ever so sweet and polite.

Yeah Gianna really wasn't a fan.

Nico would tell her that she was being irrational, and she probably was. But Mina Carstairs had always looked down on her with that familiar expression of pity and disgust.

It might have had something to do with the time Gianna had tried to steal Church during one of her manic episodes. Or the time when she woke Mina and Ellie up by blasting heavy metal at three in the morning while making brownies at the LA institute.

In her defense, she couldn't sleep.

Gianna knew lots of people always assumed she was doing these things on purpose. Like she was purposefully trying to sabotage everything in her life. That was probably one of the most irritating things about having a mental illness, being blamed for the things that you had no control over.

Being held to neurotypical standards was also shitty.

"You look like you're about keel over and die on us" said a voice at her shoulder.

Gianna whipped around and breathed a sigh of relief.

Magnus.

Gianna couldn't quite managed a smile, but she instantly flung her arms around him in a hug which he returned.

"Hey there little shadowfae" he cooed. It was the nickname he had for her ever since she was a kid. "Are you taking your meds?" He asked her with his head still resting on her shoulder.

Gianna groaned, lightly pushing him away. "Why can't you just greet me like a normal person? What ever happened to, "How are you?" Or, "What great weather we've been having lately!" She rolled her eyes.

Magnus looked sympathetic as he placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. "I'm sorry Gigi. I'm just worried about you." He said softly.

Magnys was essentially the one who had jumpstarted her treatment, the same way he did with Thaís. He contacted Caterina, who contacted a doctor with the sight to get Gianna diagnosed, on medication and into counseling.

Her therapist was actually half Unseelie, half mundane. She was fairly sweet, and she and Gianna got along pretty well. It could have been a lot worse.

Gianna nodded, "Yeah I know. I am." She protested.

That was mostly true, although there was one week when she had gone to Unseelie to visit Anabla and forgotten to bring her meds with her. She was paying for that now.

"Everyone! Could I have your attention please!" They were interrupted by the voice of the consul. Alec Lightwood-Bane was standing in the middle of the room. Several members of the council were standing with him. "We will begin testing in five minutes! If all of the perticipents could please make their way down to the institute's training room. Thank you."

Magnus caught Alec's eye and smiled at him from across the room. He then sighed and squeezed Gianna's shoulder again. "Well. I should go join my husband" he said matter of factly. "Good luck little one."

Gianna managed a small smile. "Thanks Mags."

Gianna stood in place for awhile, willing herself to move. People passed by around her like waves moving around a bolder. No one played her a second glance, not her cousins, and certainly not Mina Carstairs. Her parents were probably busy with Nico.

The living room filtered out and then she was alone. Standing in the middle of the room with a bow in her hand.

See. The voice told her. You're all alone. You're always alone. No one really cares about you.

She tried to protest, tried to fight it but she was just too tired. And there was that old familiar feeling again. A feeling beyond exhaustion, beyond despair, and beyond hopelessness.

Inevitability.

The feeling that at the end of the day this is all that you are, and all you ever will be.

And there's nothing that can change that.

#tsc #tda #twp #kierarktina #kierarktina children #my oc #kaitlin'swriting

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southsidestory · 4 years

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you have bipolar disorder? how did you get to that conclusion? did you go to a doctor? i don’t want to self diagnose but i’ve read up on it a lot and it seems like my grandfather, father, and i have it. its made life super difficult. I even stopped writing ff bc when i posted, people wouldn’t understand how depressive episode make you not want to do anything for literal months at a time and would berate me for not updating 1/2

2/2 and my family is Mexican so they believe that mental illness is an American Thing, so i cant really go to them for help, and i wouldn’t even know where to begin with a doctor. what was your experience with it?

I did go to a psychiatrist, yes, but I had been experiencing symptoms since I was 12. I was 26 when I was finally correctly diagnosed. Before that I’d been misdiagnosed with MDD (major depressive disorder) and put on a cocktail of meds that mostly made me worse. Being correctly diagnosed is hugely important, and I highly recommend that someone see a psychiatrist rather than self diagnosing.

But. Not everyone has the privilege of easy access to a psychiatrist, and it sounds like you’re in that category. And I can say from personal experience that I knew I was bipolar before I was diagnosed, because it runs in my family and my symptoms were astoundingly obvious by that point. Since you asked, I’ll tell you about my experience.

As I said, I started experiencing bipolar symptoms when I was a kid. I also have PTSD and GAD, and my anxiety has been with me all my life, but my depression started when I was 12. A nurse practitioner put me on the antidepressant Lexapro, which made me worse--because antidepressants don’t work for bipolar people. Our brains aren’t wired for it. So I quit taking Lexapro and didn’t attempt to treat my mental illness with medicine for the next ten years.

I also started having hypomanic episodes as a young teenager, but I didn’t recognize them for what they were. I wouldn’t sleep for days and I’d be highly productive and feel great, so why would I complain about that or think it’s a problem? But the longer I went untreated the more severe my episodes became and the longer they lasted, and by the time I hit my 20s I was in a really bad place. Depressed 85% of the time, hypomanic 10% (although I didn’t know that’s what it was), and “normal” about 5%. My depressive episodes often lasted for months at a time, briefly broken by a week or two of hypomania, after which I’d plummet right back into depression.

I went to a psychiatric nurse practitioner when I was 22. He assumed I was depressed and put me on antidepressants and anti-anxiety meds. That mostly made me worse. The only thing that ever really worked was Abilify, which is an atypical antipsychotic shockingly used to treat bipolar disorder. That really should have been a fucking clue, but I went improperly diagnosed for another four years.

Being on a cocktail of the wrong meds made me worse, which led me to stop taking my meds cold turkey, which is always a bad idea. In April 2016 I had a horrible mixed episode, although I didn’t understand what it was then. For those who don’t know, a mixed episode is when someone is manic and depressed at the same time, and it’s pure hell. During my episode, I broke up with my partner right before our first wedding anniversary, quit my job, and almost committed suicide. (Then I moved back home and my mom promptly died, but that’s a whole ‘nother can of worms.)

Fortunately my partner and I got back together, and they helped me figure out what was going on. They’re also bipolar, but unlike me they were diagnosed as a kid, and our symptoms presented differently so that’s probably why neither of us saw it for a long time.

I finally saw a psychiatrist at the beginning of 2017, and I went in already knowing what I was going to hear. My mom had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder a couple of years before she died, so I knew it ran in my family. My symptoms had worsened significantly and my hypomania had finally become so distinct and unhealthy that it couldn’t be overlooked anymore.

None of my previous health care providers had ever asked me, “What do you feel like when you’re at your happiest?” If they had, it would have probably been obvious that I suffer from bipolar disorder, not unipolar depression. Because my “happiest” looks like extreme periods of creative productivity, days or weeks of insomnia, and some very bad decision making lol. Usually followed by a crash landing back into depression.

So I guess that’s my question for you. What do you feel like when you’re at your happiest? If your “up” periods sound like hypomania or mania, which I’m sure you’ve read about, then yeah there’s a good chance you’re bipolar. :/

And if you are bipolar, I cannot stress enough how important it is to get proper medication. I don’t want to scare you, but something like 20% of bipolar people die from committing suicide. And those are just the successful ones; the number who attempt, sometimes multiple times, is much higher. This is an extremely dangerous, disabling, potentially deadly illness. Although you can learn helpful coping strategies in therapy, and a good support system is also very important, the #1 thing you need to treat bipolar disorder is medication. It’s a chemical imbalance in the brain that, for 99% of us, cannot be effectively managed without mood stabilizers and/or antipsychotics. Every bipolar person I know (my mom, my aunt, my partner, and one of my friends) didn’t get better until they were on meds, and it was the same for me.

All this to say, if you suspect you’re bipolar, I encourage you to do every single thing in your power to get to a psychiatrist. I’d like to say your family might come around, but if you say they believe mental illness is an “American Thing” then I believe you. In which case, you need to advocate for yourself now and worry about their opinions later. Assuming you’re an adult, which I’m *really* hoping you are. If you’re a minor, that makes this much harder.

When you say you’re Mexican, I don’t know if you mean you’re living in Mexico or living in the US. If Mexico, I can’t point you toward resources, but if you happen to live in the US, most major cities have FQHCs (federally qualified health centers), which are aimed at serving poor people, and many of which provide mental health care services.

If you do have access to a psychiatrist, I can give you some pointers on what to do before your first appointment. I went into mine with a list of symptoms and how long I’d been experiencing them, family history of mental illness, previous medication regimens, and a summary of my trauma. When I handed it over to my psychiatrist she was like “Well it’s quite clear that you’re bipolar. I’m sorry you’ve been misdiagnosed for so long.”

If you’re comfortable DMing me, please feel free. Regardless, I hate to hear that you’re struggling, but I do want you to know that things can get better. I honestly feel like I lost the years between age 12 and 26, because I spent them so miserable, but since getting properly medicated my life has turned around completely. I want to see that happen for you too, nonny.

#asks #bipolar disorder #mental illness #actually bipolar #Anonymous

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thebestoftimes · 5 years

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If I understand correctly u have mi, and if you have something that might be similar to what sander might have, do you think this was realistic, I mean the way he acted before he ran out naked?

I was originally scared to answer this because i’m normally very closed off when it comes to talking about my mental health. But I also want to destroy the American stigma that it shouldn’t be talked about and that it’s something to be ashamed of so FUCK IT let’s talk about it.

LONG ASS POST BELOW

I was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder when I was 16. I won’t get into my symptoms and my life with depression because that isn’t relevant to wtfock yet unless you count Sander’s sad ig post as a possibility of a depressive episode. When I was 19 the therapist I was seeing posed that maybe I had generalized anxiety. I didn’t buy it because I had never had a full-blown panic attack. I’m just an extremely high-strung person that is stressed 24-7 and tended to spiral quickly into worry. I didn’t think that constituted an anxiety disorder. Especially because I’m still very high functioning under stress. Me being anxious normally just triggered my depression rather than anything else. Not very exciting. I went to a psychiatrist to get my meds adjusted for like 4th time in my life because yet again, my anti-depressants stopped working after a six month period even with a dose change. This psychiatrist was brand new to me so I had to give a short spiel on my mental health history and symptoms. Immediately she said I was bipolar. I DID NOT BELIEVE HER. I still don’t kind of. But I’m starting to. I just want a second opinion from another doctor really. Here’s why she said I was bipolar and here’s why I was an idiot for thinking I didn’t have anxiety.

My thoughts go a hundred miles a minute. I get overwhelmed quickly by them and it makes it difficult to sleep 99% time. It also means I spiral VERY QUICKLY. Point A leads to point Z in 0.05 seconds and suddenly I’m stressed and then depressed.

I feel uncomfortable in my skin a lot. Leg bouncing 24/7. I started to pick at my skin so bad I have scars all over my back and shoulders from it. Blood underneath my fingernails. Blood on the straps of my prom dress because I couldn’t stop. Hugging myself so tightly I hope I collapse into myself. Stretching out my arms because I feel so off and strange in my own body. I’m too hot and I’m too cold and I toss and turn because I can’t get comfortable and I can’t get my thoughts to just shUT UP FOR ONCE. If there was a camera in my room you’d see me groan into my pillow a lot in frustration.

I’ve only ever had one real episode of mania, and it was actually hypomania (which sounds worse than mania but it’s not it’s actually more stable). And that was when I was put on a mood stabilizer after being told i was bipolar ii (non-cyclical, mostly depressive). Psych meds take about a month to properly enter into your bloodstream and for about two weeks I was... really interesting. I laughed at my own jokes for deadass ten minutes. I thought everything was funny. I talked a mile a minute and I already talk extremely quickly. The best way to describe it, according to what my mother witnessed, was that I was myself on steroids. My brain no longer filtered how quickly my thoughts moved to my mouth. She said you could actually see how fast my brain works because that’s how I was talking. I changed subjects very rapidly and was quite jumpy. I was also very agitated. And even more on edge than normal. I thought people would think I was just in an abnormally good mood because I have a rep for being very bubbly and animated but friends I wasn’t even that close with would be like Jess are you okay..? I’ve never experienced anything quite like that since then.

So yes. Sander was extremely accurate. I was upset watching the clip because it was like watching myself. His giddiness and then his quick breathing and clawing at his back and he couldn’t sit still and he needed air but he needed to go back to sleep but he COULDN’T sleep and so he needed to get OUT and do SOMETHING. Yes, maybe food will help. Food and some water and fresh air. That will make him feel better. I didn’t see him leaving as a super manic episode and impulsiveness, I saw it as him desperately trying to make himself calm down. And that shit hurted. What really sucks is that a lot of us don’t have a Lucas or a Robbe. We have to talk ourselves down. Calm ourselves down. Plead with ourselves to try and get more sleep. Tell ourselves to slow down because we’re going too fast and people are thinking something is off.

Idk if I have bipolar disorder. I was born “””gifted””” so my mind has always worked very strangely and quickly and I’ve always presented myself in public as very bubbly and animated and so I wouldn’t know what a hypomanic episode in me would even look like besides that one time (hypo-mania is different than regular mania! It’s probably what Sander was actually going through while a character like Even or Eliott was truly manic. Hypomania is a bit more toned down) esp because I’m not impulsive, have mood swings, and I’m not an impulsive spender. I do sometimes devote myself to things in totality for crazy amounts of time. Like spending a whole day on one thing and ignoring everything else or deciding I’ll do a whole project at 2am and not finish until 7 so maybe that’s hypomania? IDK I’ve always done shit like that! I know I have depression. I know i have some form of anxiety. I know that Sander and I were identical for a hot minute. So yeah. Pretty damn realistic.

If anyone wants to ask more questions or just talk then go ahead.

#long post #everythingisindutchnidontspeakit

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arielmuhckay · 5 years

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i think hell is something you carry around with you. not somewhere you go.

sydney sweeney ; 18 ; she/her —— wow, ariel mackay sure has changed. i guess she is feeling isolated from the other slytherin members. guess you can’t really blame them. i still remember them being so dauntless & vehement now they just seem crude & self-destructive. guess being a muggleborn isn’t helping matters much either. i’m hopeful though. they’ll be just fine.

links: stats, pinterest, tag character inspo: eleanor shellstrop (the good place), effy stonem (skins), rebecca bunch (crazy ex-girlfriend), annie landsberg (maniac), alyssa (the end of the fucking world), rue bennett (euphoria) triggers: depression, substance abuse, parental death, suicide

ariel mackay never knew her father. in fact, her mother ( isabelle mackay ) isn’t even quite sure who the man is. the late fifties proved to be a tough time for poor old isabelle mackay, and it resulted in excessive alcohol consumption, a string of one night stands, and eventually the birth of her one and only daughter, ariel winter mackay, on april 3rd, 1960, when she was only twenty years of age.

ariel’s childhood was fun, but at the same time kind of rocky. i mean, issy didn’t have any family left, she was a single mum in the early sixties working a part-time secretary job and she had no idea how to raise a child. ari and issy spent a lot of time with issy’s friends, who became like aunts to ariel and allowed her to grow up surrounded by strong, independent women.

but ariel had a bit of a troublesome streak. it seemed as though chaos and destruction followed her everywhere she went, and it caused her to jump from school to school until she’d eventually been expelled from eight primary schools by the age of ten. issy could not understand what was wrong, she couldn’t explain certain things that happened around the little blonde girl because they were seemingly unexplainable, and she was starting to grow seriously worried until a tall woman with a big hat knocked on their door and introduced the mackay family to the world of magic.

ariel was honestly ecstatic to go to hogwarts. she’d always known that she was different to the other kids, that she was special, and this only went on the prove it. and now, surrounded by other kids the same as her, maybe she could finally find a place that she fit in - a place that she could call home.

she was sorted into slytherin after a minute of the hat sitting on her head, and at first she slotted right in with the rest of her housemates. they were all just as fun, ambitious and intelligent as her and she was excited to find a place that she belonged. but slowly she started to notice that still she was being treated differently - there was something about her that had other kids turning their noses and left her unable to befriend many of her housemates for the pure reason that they wouldn’t talk to her. the first time she was called a mudblood, she cried for days - she’d expected hogwarts to be welcoming and instead she was still that weird kid that everyone wanted to avoid.

of course, as she grew up, it became obvious that not everyone hated her. she started to hang out with more of the gryffindors in her year and sought out the people who weren’t disgusted by her ambiguous ( ‘tainted’ ) lineage. moving through her first, her second, her third year, she became quite popular amongst the student body, and her fun-loving, easy-going attitude attracted many boys and girls who wanted to befriend her.

a small hiccup arose in her third year, when a pattern of violent, depressed and manic behaviour began to show in her every day life. at the tender age of fourteen, ariel was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and at age fifteen was prescribed lithium in order to keep it in check. her tendency for manic episodes meant she had to tone down on her usually adventurous nature and had to keep a check on how many people she surrounded herself with - too many and she could be sent over the edge. though she was still widely popular and incredibly fun to be around, she wasn’t known to have many close friends and was sometimes noted to disappear for days without explanation and return as if nothing has happened.

PARENTAL DEATH TW: everything was all pretty smooth sailing for miss mackay until a few months before the end of her sixth year, when she received a letter detailing the horrific death of her mother, isabelle mackay, at the hands of a drunk driver. devastated could hardly begin to describe how ariel felt — it was as if her whole world was crumbling around her. her mother, her one true rock throughout all the pain and misery and heartache of her life was gone and now she had no one.

DEPRESSION/SUICIDE TW: after the death, ariel fell into a deep depression into which no one could pull her out. for a while she relied on substance abuse to even keep her going, but it was never enough. she completely isolated herself from everyone around her and allowed herself to fall deeper and deeper into her own depression. over the winter break of her sixth year, during which she had moved to her mum’s friends place in dublin, ariel finally completely broke and attempted suicide. of course, she was not successful, but after spending months in the hospital after this attempt, she finally spoke to a professional and started on the slow and bumpy road to recovery.

alycia ( her mum’s friend and now ariel’s caregiver ) was reluctant to allow ariel to return to hogwarts after the traumatic few months they had endured, but after much begging on ariel’s part, she finally relented. returning to hogwarts for her final year, it is clear that ariel is all but a different person. once the life of the party, the sassy and adventurous and fun-loving girl of her year, ariel is now much quieter and a lot less adventurous. she is still ever so dependent on alcohol and still talking to a psychologist within hogwarts ( as was requested by alycia ), and though it is clear that ariel mackay is all but a different person, she is trying her very best to once again be happy.

#incantareintro #i ! love! her :(

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scretladyspider · 5 years

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Im in a relationship with someone diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I’m still trying to learn more about BD, asking other people I know who deals with the same about what happens during episodes. I still dont fully understand how its like and Im scared to ask my partner about it, cos most of the time she doesnt want to talk about it. Have told me before that she doesnt want me to see how bad she gets in an episode. I want to ask what I can do to help her, as her partner, or how to be there.

It’s awesome that you want to be there for your partner with her illness! That’s really good and I hope that over time it becomes clearer to you.

It’s unfortunate that she may not be too receptive to being asked about it, but it also can be scary to talk about. Sometimes people also just may not know how to articulate what they’re feeling or going through, even if they really want to tell you - sometimes words just aren’t there. I’d still ask her, but be patient with her about what she chooses to tell you. You can’t force anything out of her about it and you shouldn’t try to, either. Just let her know, consistently, that you want to be supportive, and then leave it up to her how much she tells you. After all - her care isn’t your responsibility, and you can’t take that on, but you can be supportive of her in the experience of the illness itself.

Definitely be sure to talk about boundaries, and ask her what she needs if she has an episode before one happens. This is important because if she tells you “Hey, if I do this, I need to be taken to the hospital,” that’s just an important thing to know. Even if she can’t tell you everything about it, a conversation about how you can support her, at a base level, is a good idea, if she’s open to having one. Again, you can’t force it - but it is really important that both of you communicate, not just in this area of your relationship, but in all areas of the relationship, if it’s going to be successful. Additionally, it’s good for you to be able to establish your boundaries if something does come up that you can’t handle. Relationships when you or your partner have a mental illness are going to take some extra communication efforts than relationships with two people who don’t have an ongoing illness, as with extra stuff, there’s more stuff you need to talk to your partner about.

The best thing you can do besides communicating with her about what it’s like is research on your own, both about the disorder and about what it’s like to experience it. Here’s some stuff that I hope will help you out:

Madness: A Bipolar Life (if you can’t download the PDF, it should be available at your local library or through interlibrary loan)

What is Bipolar Disorder? Ted Ed

Depressive and Bipolar Disorders: Crash Course Psychology

Chatting With a Person With Bipolar Disorder

Living with Bipolar II

An Unquiet Mind

Touched with Fire

Loving Someone With Bipolar Disorder

There’s a lot more resources, but these are some good things to get started with. Also - in order books and papers, you will find that people talk about “manic depression”. This is the former name of bipolar disorder. Research is always advancing, but, some professionals still use this very outdated term for the illness, so if you run across it, they’re talking about bipolar disorder.

I hope this helps, and best of luck.

#answers #bipolar disorder

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mrsh0rr0rxoxo-blog · 5 years

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Depression

Depression –

Let’s talk about the different types of Depression that are out there. Once I’m finished, if you are someone who suffers from Depression talk to me. Tell me what you Suffer from. And if you’re so inclined to do so, tell me about what made you this way. Because we didn’t get this way from birth, TRUMA happened to make us this way.

Clinical Depression –

Being sad most of the time, so much that it effects your daily life, you may or may not have this.

Treatment – Talking to your doctor, talking to a Therapist and medication. You may also want to consider making changes in your lifestyle. I know it’s hard, but even the smallest change, might make your Clinical Depression, less noticeable to you.

Major Depression –

Major Depression or as often called by doctors “Major Depressive Disorder” (It’s technically the same thing). To know if this is something that you suffer from, you’re going to feel or should be feeling depressed most of the days during the week, and nothing that you can do will bring you out during those days.

Symptoms –

- Loss of interest or pleasure you once felt in activities.

- Weight gain is most common for us Stress eaters & depressed eaters, but don’t be alarmed if you lose weight. It is more common than you think.

- Not able to sleep at night or able to fall asleep, resulting in you feeling sleepy all day.

- Feeling Worthless. (Which means in your mind, nothing you can do makes anyone happy) It’s not true, but in your mind it really is.

- Restless, Sluggish and Agitated (ALL. THE. TIME.)

- Slowed down physically and or mentally. (But typically if you’re slow physically, your mental state will be slow also.)

- Always tired with lack of energy.

- THOUGHTS of Suicide (BUT no action).

- Can’t concentrate or make decisions.

If you go to your doctor with FIVE or more of these symptoms, and they last more then 2 to 3 weeks, you have a chance of being diagnosed with Major Depression.

Treatment –

Antidepressants, Talk Therapy (Which never worked for me.) Mental Health Specialists that you will be asked to see, they will help you find a way to manage it. (I highly recommend it.)

If medication barely helps – then you can also try ECT & rTMS (Electroconvulsive Therapy & Repetitive Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation)

Consult your Doctor before considering the above treatments in Bold.

Persistent Depressive Disorder –

Depression lasting more then TWO years. The Term “Persistent Depressive Disorder” is used to describe two conditions, previously known as Dysthymia (low-grade persistent) & Chronic Major Depression.

Symptoms –

- Change in appetite (Over eating or not at all.)

- Sleeping too much or too little.

- Fatigue or lack of energy.

- Low Self-Esteem.

- Trouble Concentrating/Making Decisions

- Always feeling Hopeless.

Treatment –

Psychotherapy, Medication or Both.

Bipolar Disorder –

Someone who is Bipolar – or often called “Manic Depression” Has a mood episode. It can range from Extremes of high energy with an “Up” mood to low “depressive” periods.

When in low Phase, you will have symptoms of Major Depression.

Meds will help bring your moods under control. Whether you’re in a high or low Period. You might also need a mood stabilizer. (Talking with your doctor is the best way to figure that out.)

Bipolar is something Serious and needs to be treated right away.

Traditional antidepressants are not always going to be recommended as first-line treatments for bipolar depression, since there is no proof from studies that these drugs are more helpful than a placebo(sugar pill) in treating depression in people with bipolar disorder.

Not to mention that for some people with bipolar disorder (like me), some of the traditional antidepressants may increase the risk of causing a “High” phase of illness, or speeding up how often you have these episodes over time.

Psychotherapy can also help you and your family with support.

I can honestly tell you, that my Bipolar Disorder, puts a lot of stress on my husband and child. It’s really bad. When I’m having a “High” day, it’s a bad day for everyone. I don’t even want to work on those days. I can’t focus. But employers don’t understand someone with mental disabilities, so unfortunately in this world, you can’t not go to work because of it.

Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD or Seasonal Depression as most often heard) –

It is a period of Major Depression that most often happens during the winter months, when the days grow shorter and you get less and less sunlight. It typically will go away in the spring and summer.

If you do have SAD, antidepressants will help. You can also do light therapy. You will need to sit in front of a special bright light box for about 15-30 minutes each day.

Get it treated. Don’t let it go because you know with spring your mental state will clear, if you get too far down the rabbit hole, there’s no coming back out of it with the change of the season.

Psychotic Depression –

People who have psychotic depression have the symptoms of Major depression along with “Psychotic” symptoms, such as:

- Hallucinations (seeing or hearing things that are not there)

- Delusions (false beliefs)

- Paranoia (wrongly believing that others are trying to harm you.)

Treatment –

A combination of antidepressants and antipsychotic drugs can treat psychotic depression. ECT may also be an option for you.

Peripartum (PostPartum) Depression –

Women who have major depression in the weeks and months after childbirth may have peripartum depression. Antidepressant drugs can help similarly to treating major depression that is unrelated to childbirth.

Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder (PMDD) –

Women with PMDD have depression and other symptoms at the start of their period.

Besides feeling depressed, you may also have:

- Mood Swings

- Irritability

- Anxiety

- Trouble concentrating

- Fatigue

- Change in appetite or sleep habits

- Feelings of being overwhelmed

Treatment –

Antidepressant medication or sometimes oral contraceptives can treat PMDD.

‘Situational’ Depression –

Situational – is not a technical term in psychiatry. But you can have a depressed mood based on what is going on in your life, a stressful event that you’re having trouble managing. A death in the family, a divorce, losing your job. Your doctor might call this “stress response syndrome.”

Treatment –

Psychotherapy can often help you get through a period of depression that’s related to a stressful situation.

Atypical Depression –

This is different then the persistent sadness of typical depression. It’s considered to be a “Specifier” that describes a pattern of depressive symptoms. If you have “atypical depression,” a positive event can temporarily improve your mood.

Other symptoms of atypical depression include:

- Increased appetite

- Sleeping more than usual

- Feeling of heaviness in your arms and legs

- Oversensitive to criticism

Treatments –

Antidepressants can help. Your doctor might suggest a type called SSRI – Selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor, as the first line of treatment.

They might also sometimes recommend an older type of antidepressant called MAOI – Monoamine oxidase inhibitor – which is a call of antidepressants that studies state work well with atypical depression.

Some of you are reading this & thinking, “I’ve been depressed my entire life” that very well maybe true. No doubts about it. It is highly unlikely for you to have every single type of depression, but it is not unlikely for you to have had, experienced each one in your life.

I myself am Bipolar. I suffer from Major Depression & I very often do get Seasonal Depression.

I suffered from Postpartum after I had a miscarriage. I didn’t know that, that was possible, all I knew was my depression was worse. So I seen my doctor he treated me and it finally went away, it went back to my normal Highs & Lows.

My depression started when I was in High School and it has not gone away.

Somedays my depression doesn’t get the best of me, and somedays it does. I can feel myself slipping into depression now, when the bad days are coming. Lately they are more often then not, because I lost a friend that I loved very dearly.

That is her own fault, and I am partly to blame, but I’m not the one that wants everyone to feel bad for me. I think it’s because she suffered a great, great horrible loss in her life and hasn’t found the right way to overcome that, resulting in pushing everyone else away from her. Then making someone else the victim.

I’ve done it before. It’s how I can figure it out.

So, I did what I had to do for me. I stopped talking to her, and ever since there’s been stuff said about me that isn’t true, and it’s making my depression even worse. So, I’m cautious.

I watch what I say and do, I watch what I eat, because I need to eat healthy to keep me in a positive mood. I focus on the things that keep me happy. My husband, child and close, close friends. I read trashy romance novellas because they make me happy, I binge watch Grey’s Anatomy (because who doesn’t love a good cry) and I try to get the best sleep possible.

I’ve recently had an increase in medication, and I do think that is helping. I can’t say that I will ever be okay, and I can’t explain how I’m feeling to people that don’t understand because they will never understand.

Credits -

Thank you to WebMD, for helping me fact check and make sure that I provided the correct information, treatment and diagnosis.

#depression #stress #overeatting #noteattingenough #mentalhealth

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chasing-rabbits · 6 years

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I think something people find hard to deal with when it comes to borderline personality disorder is it literally affects ALL emotional states. Not just mania and severe depression but trust love paranoia anger anguish etc etc it affects everything and unlike most people who can stay in charge of their emotions most of the time or at least damage control most of us with BPD can't the difference is physiogically we actually feel emotions more intensely and we feel these emotions for longer so it's really hard to explain to someone why the smallest thing sets us into suciidal idealisation but to us it's a really big deal because our emotions are unstable and unregulated and it takes a lot of therapy and work that often times isn't even offered to us because alot of people are skeptical of the disorder and even then it's not something that will ever go away like an addict we will always have to be on guard of our emotions we can't even. Let ourselves just be happy because so often a normal event like for me Xmas time can trigger manic episodes and this then causes me to drink and spend excessively and to not sleep and to be super unstable and you think well hey just learn to control it but the issue is it's not a slow burner for me one minute I'm depressed and suicidal an hour later I'm triggered into severe mania and it will last the whole weekend leading up to Xmas sometimes a whole week before Xmas you know ? And it just happens like the flick of a switch and that's really hard to prepare for because in other conditions for example I have bipolar it's usually a slow burner and I can pre-empt and even figure out my cycles for example I used to be mixed affective in the new year and manic over Easter and this happened every year for 3 years before I was officially diagnosed so I kinda knew also it was never as intense I felt depressed and sad and cried I felt manic and happy and drank but BPD is on a whole other level what I felt with BPD was even more intense and more unstable because of its unpredictability than the bipolar ever was .

That's the problem . People hear bipolar and think damn that's awful people hear borderline personality disorder and think eh it's nothing she's just melodramatic because it can appear that we are divas because we get triggered by the littlest of things but that's how it is and I've been told multiple times by professionals I will just grow out of it . But honestly that idea is so toxic that it just simply goes away forever and I've been told medication won't help and the only therapy they offer includes the first half focusing on mindfulness which actually can make someone with BPD more suicidal and this group therapy isn't even specific to those with BPD it's one therapy fits all and that's toxic logic . So my mum might end up paying for therapy for me because I can't afford it.

But so many therapists and doctors aren't even educated well enough on borderline personality disorder or are critics of it so even in the professionals eyes their is stigma attached to having this diagnosis .

And there in lies the problem.

This disorder has made me attempt suicide 3 time and self harm more times than I can count.

I did everything from cutting to burning to hitting myself with heavy objects to scratching my legs to pieces .

And yet it's still not seen as serious or taken seriously or even diagnosed correctly by professionals.

And this stigma NEEDS to stop.

BPD is a dangerous disorder and often gets the person suffering it engaging in self destructive behaviours from self harm to full blown eating disorders to suicide attempts to drug and substance abuse this illness comes with deadly consequences because it leads to wreckless impulsive behaviours.

And just remember this next time we are intensely scared of abandonment and because of this we may lash out at loved ones and friends but it comes out of a place of fear and instead of dismissing us you should try to talk to us get us to communicate these fears as to better understand what may seem as histrionic diva behaviours. And then we can work on our behaviours to further better our trust issues and fears of abandonment !

For example I now express these fears with my partner and tell him directly I need you to cuddle me reassure me even if you've done it a million times today I just need to hear you say it again. And yes sometimes he gets frustrated with me because there's only so many times someone can reassure you in a day. But also this has helped me grow. Even without therapy anymore I tried the therapy offered and the mindfulness made me feel awful also I wasn't actually allowed to talk about any of my issues because it would or could trigger others in the group so it was a pile of shit.

But I've grown over time too from reading and listening to others with BPD and their experiences with partners and how they handle it . And the biggest thing was on YouTube video I found one day where she said communication was everything and how you've gotta explain the thought process behind your beliefs and actions because to an outsider even a loved one our thoughts are hard to decode even to ourselves sometimes it's hard to understand the underlying issue causing the meltdown. And also she is the one that said sometimes you have to be direct and say exactly what you need down to every last detail because yes you have to learn to handle things on your own sometimes but this idea that we cannot ever be dependent on a good support system is bullshit people with disorders and especially BPD NEED an excellent support system in which they can express their feelings and feel validated and understood and have a place they can be themselves because one of the root causes of BPD is when in childhood said child is not allowed to express emotions and if they do they are invalidated or ignored or told off for showing them.

As well as other abuses causing BPD .

So when we get older we have all these maladaptive coping mechanisms like self harm because we've been told our emotions our pain isn't real or isn't valid and causing visible pain on the form of cuts and scars and bruises or even in the form of an eating disorder almost validates to ourselves that this pain was and is real and it does matter .

And that's why self harm is a criteria for BPD.

And it's so hard because so often because of our past we now over react to little situations minor arguments with tears and fears of abandonment and this leads people to think we are a drama queen and over reacting for attention or faking it for attention but in our minds our fears and thoughts of Self harm and suicide are very very real. Because we have little handle on our emotions . Or our impulsive dangerous thoughts . So as a child we are invalidated and then when we develop BPD we are once again invalidated and this time viewed as inauthentic or over reacting drama queens for attention which then leads us to fall deeper into our pit of despair because no one understands our maladaptive coping mechanisms.

They see our bpd behaviours but don't understand the reasons why and instead of saying oh it's because she's mentally ill and has a personality disorder it's criticised as even being a disorder and is instead a young adult playing up for attention or spoilt brat syndrome and that it's something we will simply grow out of as if it's a phase rather than something that has been built out of years of invalidation and abuse and was our only way of coping and now we've lost all control of our emotional state and the issue with personality disorders is people are like don't let your mental illness define you but with a personality disorder especially one like borderline personality disorder which affects everything you think or do or feel it's very very hard because from a young teen or pre teen where we develop personality traits we have developed this disorder that literally molds and shapes our personality and what it means to be us and whilst you can change to an extent and try to overcome this it's very very hard to entirely leave it behind and yes whilst I have my own unique traits and styles of dressing and jokes and humour that you could argue make up my personality it doesn't take long to put two people with BPD in a room and see the striking similar personality traits that make us these maladaptive beings due to our past.

Whether people want to agree or not our emotions in this case are not always in our control and we aren't acting out on purpose or for attention it's usually out of fear or intense emotional pain and quite often it feels as though someone else is controlling our emotional responses quite often people with BPD have identity crises because when they are diagnosed and educated on BPD it becomes very aware that our emotions and traits are not always ours but the disorders and you find yourself questioning who am I without my disorder like I know who I would be without my bipolar but I honestly can't say I'm at the point yet where I'd say I know who I would be without bpd because for so long it's all I've known from my childhood to young adulthood I've never known anything different about myself and where does my real personality start and my disorder end because my disorder whether I like it or not does affect me fundamentally as who I am how I behave what I do and where I go and the jobs I hold etc etc and my realtionships with those around me more so than most other disorders because as it says in the name it's a personality disorder and that is why it's so hard to diagnose because the symptoms and criteria in the diagnostic manual psychiatrists use just lists mostly a list of personality traits BUT these traits are all normal traits healthy people could have as my psychology professor taught me but it's up to the professional to judge if you experience them to a higher degree than others and certain traits together then it's a personality disorder this is also why self diagnosis is extremely dangerous because you could look at the criteria for BPD and say that fits my personality but you don't know if you experience these personality traits so severely that you'd be considered as having BPD I got my bipolar diagnosis super quick but it took at least 6months maybe a year even before I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder!

This disorder has one of the higher sucide rates and this is for good reason because having BPD often brings its friends in the form of addictions and dangerous impulsive risky behaviours .

And yet no one takes it seriously we don't have documentaries about it compared to bipolar or schizophrenia or anorexia no one talks about the deadly killer that is borderline personality disorder and that needs to change !

#borderline personality disorder #actually borderline #borderline problems #being borderline #borderline things

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hopeishappinessff · 6 years

Text

Holding Onto Hope: Chapter 36

Narrator:

Embarrassed. Humiliated. A laughing stock perhaps? No… no one was laughing. Final conclusion… an utter disappointment. He prayed for an escape… prayed that maybe he could somehow melt away into the cushioned chair he occupied. Or disappear into thin air, if at all possible. He wanted to simply spontaneously combust, because this was entirely too much to bear. Sure, he was aware that a day would come that someone would actually explain to him… him. He was a complex mixture of a human, he knew that. But now that the day had arrived for him to better understand just how complex… he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thrown up yet.

Through pursed, paper thin, pink lips, she sighed and kept her eyes trained on the healthy stack of papers splayed atop her shiny desk. His eyes were cast downward, but he wasn’t looking at anything in particular. He just knew he didn’t have the guts to look at either of them. Dr. Stevenson… or Dr. Yates. She was visiting him on a flat screen today, but for the first time in a long time… he couldn’t look her in the eye. No… not while they were both attempting to apparently ruin his life, yet again.

“Manic-depressive illness or manic depression… commonly known as, bipolar disorder. This disorder is characterized by extreme mood swings that include emotional highs, or mania and hypomania, and lows… depression. During the mania or hypomania phases, the patient will endure extreme euphoria, you will feel full of energy or unusually irritable. Hypersexuality, also referred to as compulsive sexual behavior or sexual addition, can also exist as a sign of the disorder and is described as a dysfunctional preoccupation with sexual fantasies, urges, or behaviors that are difficult to control. Episodes of mood swings may occur rarely, or in your particular case, multiple times a year and they will affect your sleep pattern, energy, activity, judgment, behavior, and ability to think clearly.” Dr. Stevenson read from one of the papers, now held captive between the tips of her fingers. She continued to pause occasionally between paragraphs, as if waiting for him to say something. But, what was he supposed to say? What could he say? What words could be said to make anything about this situation better? Yes, he was aware of his diagnosed mental illnesses. What he was not aware of was an ‘explanation session’… a dual therapy session with the sole purpose of explaining to him exactly what it was that he would be living with for the rest of his life.

“Dissociative identity disorder or DID… a severe condition in which two or more distinct identities, or personality states, are present in – or alternately take control of – an individual… often described by some, as an experience of possession. One can also experience memory loss that is too extensive to be explained by ordinary forgetfulness. DID reflects a failure to integrate various aspects of identity, memory, and consciousness into a single multidimensional self. Usually, a primary identity carries the individual’s given name and is passive, dependent, guilty, and depressed. The alters’ characteristics – including name, reported age and gender, vocabulary, general knowledge, and predominant mood – contrast with those of the primary identity. Certain circumstances or stressors can cause a particular alter to emerge. The various identities may deny knowledge of one another, be critical of one another or appear to be in open conflict. Possession-form identities often manifest as behaviors that appear as if a spirit or other supernatural being has taken control of the person.”

His chest was heaving, he was desperate for air… and for her to stop talking. Though his eyes were squeezed shut, he could feel the emotion brewing behind his lids… burning the corners of his eyes… itching to be released. He wasn’t even sure if she was still reading from that damned paper or if his desperation to stop hearing her truths was loud enough to drown her out, but he certainly could not hear her anymore.

“Dr. Stevenson…”

She tilted her head upward only a centimeter, but her eyes raised completely and her brows bent in the corners when she noticed Christopher sitting there, hyperventilating. It was the stern voice of Dr. Yates who finally shut her up and her heart rate immediately catapulted when she realized her patient was nearly on the verge of passing out.

“Christopher!” She half yelped, half gasped… because now his face was as red as the shiny polish on her fingertips.

“Dr. Stevenson, please…” Again, the melodic, firm sound of Dr. Yates voice was what planted Dr. Stevenson’s bottom in her chair, because she was well on her way to fleeing from the room to call on Richard and perhaps a few other security guards. She’d been on edge with this particular patient, ever since the failed observation therapy session that almost landed Dr. Yates in a hospital last year in December.

Dr. Stevenson cut her eyes sharply in the direction of the flat television screen and her lips pursed in an almost non-existent manner as she waited for further instruction from Dr. Yates. She sighed delicately and removed the glasses from the bridge of her nose, staring at the young man through the screen as he continued to struggle to compose himself.

“Christopher…” He tensed at the sound of her voice and held his breath completely until she diffused him, “Open your eyes.”

It was magical almost, the way she so easily delivered a polite command and his body responded before his mind could fully comprehend what she’d said. His eyes parted and blurred in an instant, because the tears were prepped and ready to fall, but just that easily… she’d soothed him into opening his eyes. Like the expert she was.

“Lift your head.”

Like a pained old man, he gradually lifted his head and eventually, his blurred vision had no choice but to lock eyes with her. She wore a smile on her gracefully aging face and when he saw it, he temporarily forgot that Dr. Stevenson was still in the room… staring at him cautiously.

“How are you feeling today?”

He went to drop his head, a natural reaction he’d inherited lately under the… circumstances. But Dr. Yates was quick to lift a question brow to accompany her smirk, catching his attention before he could confide in the back of his eye lids again.

Clearing his throat, he sniffled and sighed, not even bothering to acknowledge the tears rolling casually down his flushed cheeks “I’m… alright.”

With a sudden look of confusion, Dr. Yates tilted her head curiously and blinked a few times “You’re… alright? Are you sure?”

Nodding, he finally surrendered to the overwhelming urge to drop his head, but this time he kept his eyes open and simply watched the tears trickle into his lap.

“Well, if you are alright… are those happy tears that you’re crying?” She asked, confusion lacing her words.

Suddenly he became unnecessarily mesmerized by the tears he shed, but really he was just too ashamed to acknowledge the real reason Dr. Yates was questioning him… she knew he wasn’t alright. He constantly internally praised her for being so incredibly intelligent and vigilant, so he knew she knew… he was not alright. But he was embarrassed by that thought… embarrassed to admit that the response he’d just given her was really just a cover for the truth. He felt like a complete and utter failure. Here this woman was, reading directly from his personal file and dropping the truth on him in a way he could have never been prepared for. Dr. Stevenson always seemed a bit rough around the edges to him and she never seemed to be one to have much sympathy for a person like him… but in this case, could he really blame her? She was simply doing her job, explaining to him in detail exactly how fucked up he was.

“Chris, if you’ll just let me finish…” Dr. Stevenson began to ramble, but Dr. Yates was always one step ahead.

“Sara,” She cut her off quickly and politely, like a car in traffic with a driver kind enough to toss a hand up to acknowledge they had indeed just cut someone off, “If I may?”

Dr. Stevenson look peeved, annoyed that someone was doing her the courtesy of shutting her up and stopping her from sounding like a heartless witch. She sighed firmly through her nose, but obliged to Dr. Yates request by slowly lowering the piece of paper back onto her desk.

“Christopher… if I may?” She was asking for his permission now… permission to continue on with the dauting task of verbalizing just how much he sucked as a human being. With a quick glance up at the screen, he sniffled once more and nodded his head… okaying her to continue on with the torture.

“Now, from my observation Christopher, I’m not so sure if you are indeed ‘alright.’”

He didn’t bother to respond… didn’t even bother to raise his head in her direction again. She was about to call him on his bluff and he had no energy to deny it… he simply was not alright.

“Like most of us, you’ve got a story. And if you’re curious to hear it, from my perspective anyway… your story is quite remarkable,” That certainly got his attention and whether he desired to or not, his head lifted on its own accord and he frowned at her… because surely she was mocking him, “There was once a young boy who, due to a series of awfully unfortunate events, lived a very angry and not so happy childhood. He witnessed turmoil beyond his control… turmoil that no human, let alone a child, should ever have to witness. And often he felt compelled to step forth to take action against the turmoil… because it involved his family, his mother. He would do anything to protect her, even at such a tender age.”

“Christopher, I want you to understand something… that young boy, filled with anger and not so happy feelings, who was undeservingly stripped of his happiness and forced to endure a life style that some fully matured men have never experienced… that is your story. And sometimes, in order to protect itself… the human mind will create its own chapters in order to ensure you are able to stay on the path of your story. Your mind created its very own protection against the chaos around you, because it was all it could do to survive. Thus, your altered personality was born.”

Born. The way she spoke of it, of Kin… the way she explained him and his ‘birth’ was rather relieving to him. Somehow, she made it make sense. Because she was indeed an expert.

“This entity became a safe haven for you, but in turn… he would often wreak unnecessary havoc on those around you, because the sole purpose of his existence has always been to protect you… which allowed you, so you thought, to protect those around you. Even as a child, your alter existed namelessly. He became your strength, your courage, your ability to stand against anyone you believed to be a threat against you and your family. But then… one day… a small bundle of happiness pulled into the driveway next door. She stepped foot from that car and swarmed you with an almost foreign feeling of peace… of genuine joy. That’s a feeling that we all crave, isn’t it? Joy? But for you, that feeling had become so foreign and forgotten… the moment you recognized it for the first time in your childhood, it became addicting. Overwhelmingly so. Sy’Diyah… Hope… she charmed her way into your life by simply moving in next door and from that day on, you couldn’t get enough of her, the way she made you feel whenever in her presence, the pure love that you could identify with that seemingly only she could fill you with, the peace… oh the peace and the solace. It was truly an addiction.”

Addiction was right. His eyes shut again and this time he managed to conjure up an entire image of her perfect face, perfect skin, perfect eyes, perfect smile, perfect hair. He imagined her right there in front of him, her sweet smell wafting around him, as addicting as it was. Her stare twinkling as she smiled lovingly at him. Her bump… the baby bump, protruding directly at him to remind him of the love they shared. He missed her, incredibly so.

“Even now, as you sit and delve into the many memories and images you’ve got stored solely in her heart for her… you feel it don’t you, the peace?”

He nodded finally and sniffled hard, because he could feel the tears brewing again “Dr. Yates I… I miss her.”

“Understandably so Christopher. Please, open your eyes,” He obeyed, parting his lids to her magical charm, “You are here, in this facility, away from your loved ones and away from the one true love of your life… because you deserve to be the greatest version of you that you can be. For them, but most importantly for you. You are not to blame for the misfortunes of your childhood or for your minds natural response to the turmoil in your young life. Had your remedy, your altered personality, not been born… I am honestly not sure that you would have flourished to be the young man who sits before us today… I’m not sure that you would have survived.”

Chris had never thought of it that way. He stared at her through burning eyes thoughtfully, pondering the thought she’d just ignited in his mind. Had his altered personality not been born from his real-life chaos, would he have survived? Was he really too weak to stand on his own as a man… was Kin seriously all of his strength?

“But Dr. Yates, his file clearly discusses in detail his lifestyle before moving off to Georgia for school. It doesn’t make much sense to me that you don’t believe he would have survived in a lifestyle that he willingly chose to live.” Dr. Stevenson finally managed to find her voice after she too became deeply enthralled in the sultry sound of Dr. Yates explanation.

“Who said it was done willingly Sara? Who said any of it was done willingly? The violent habits and the entire lifestyle created solely by the alter, the excessive desire for multiple women and sex, which as you just read is a direct characteristic of the bipolar disorder… combined with the DID… these occurrences are not done willingly. Even the slightest hint of vulnerability and weakness from Christopher, and Kin has always been the direct result. I’ve examined Christopher’s case from top to bottom, inside and out. His diagnosis is simple enough, but once closely observed, more complex than I’ve ever studied. Christopher and his alter are nearly two separate beings, if not for the fact that they indeed share one physical form,” Swiftly turning to face him, she wore a grave expression that nearly startled him, “The most interesting observation during this process… your alter doesn’t even respond accordingly to your dosages. The only reason you’ve been able to avoid blacking out in your recent sessions is because of the months of intense psychotherapy that has been forcing you to focus. You see, the top priority in your case is not to necessarily treat any symptoms, because truthfully that is nearly impossible… but rather educate you in the art of focus.”

Dr. Yates was indeed correct, Chris had been on a daily regimen with the psychotherapy sessions since his last black out and truth be told, he’d been doing an outstanding job. In every way that he could, he’d been non-stop focusing. Whether lying flat on his back on the sterile cot in his room, counting the small specks decorating the tiled ceiling. Or sitting in a corner in the recreation room, tuning in only to the faint sound of the clock ticking on the opposite side of the room… even over the chaotic sounds of the other patients sharing the space with him… he always made sure to focus. And it helped, it truly did help. The tactic, surprisingly instilled by Dr. Stevenson, aided him in his quest to control his thoughts, which allowed him to keep control of his own emotions… and more importantly, it allowed him to remain in control of himself.

“And, of course, the additional dosages of Zoloft. Synced with the focusing strategy, I believe it’s been a big help…” Dr. Stevenson muttered.

“You are correct, to a certain degree,” Dr. Yates noted, “However, the medication is only used to address the depression, anxiety, and it suppresses any anger. Unfortunately, we have to remember that the alter may not always respond to it.”

Eventually, Chris noticed that his tears had completely subsided, though he was left with an aggravating afterburn along the brims of his eyes. What was really the point in crying? It was upsetting to hear such negative truths about yourself, but he mustn’t forget the focus and dedication he’d put into this entire process in the span of a few months. Several of his psychotherapy sessions had been much more intense than others, some often brewing emotions within him that he often felt as if he could not control. But, as Dr. Yates had mentioned, he had been in control because he had mastered the art of focus. In fact, he’d been so consistently focused and if he had nothing else to be proud of in this precise moment in his life, it was that small fact. It was quite a huge accomplishment for him because for the first time since he could remember, he was absolutely in control. He smiled at the thought.

Chris

I may have been crazier than I thought, I wasn’t quite sure. But I tried not to dwell on that because then I would really start to believe it and I felt like that would completely change me as a person. I didn’t want to change… I just didn’t want to deal with these illnesses anymore. But if they continued to set me up in these sessions with not only one doctor physically sitting in front of me, but one on the flat plasma screen TV right beside her as well… I would have no choice but to know that I was insane. I was pretty positive no other patient in this institution had to endure their therapy sessions quite like this, but this is what they thought it took to get through to me.

Shifting my gaze from Dr. Stevenson to Dr. Yates, who’s bright and beaming face sat perfectly aligned in the center of the flat screen television, I sighed softly and shifted awkwardly in my seat. They were both watching me curiously, waiting for me to tell them why I thought I should be released from this sterile prison. I fiddled with my fingers and looked past the flat screen and out the window on the other side of the office. In all honesty, I didn’t know why I should be released or… if I should. I mean, I felt like I was making progress… no, I was sure that I was making progress. I was putting forth a serious effort to get myself together because I did really want out of this place. But the real world… everyday life… the place right outside of the hidden barriers of this building… it scared me. Petrified might have actually been a better term. Yes… it petrified me…

“Christopher…” Dr. Yates was speaking now and the sound of her voice alone never failed to capture my attention, so without further ado I turned my head slowly to face her… or the screen that she was presented to me on, “Are you afraid to leave?”

Lord where did this woman come from? She wasn’t even technically in the same room as me, yet she sat there and read right through me like her office was located in the middle of my mind. I could feel Dr. Stevenson staring at me, just waiting for me to give her something to write in that little yellow notepad. But, as usual, I trained my vision onto Dr. Yates and readied myself to respond to her and I even kind of pretended that Dr. Stevenson wasn’t even there. She wasn’t who I wanted to talk to… she never was. I’m sure she knew it too, thus the extravagant television set up with my therapist on it.

“In a way… yes.” I muttered.

“Why? Why are you afraid to leave the institute?” Tearing my eyes away from the screen, I peered at Dr. Stevenson from the corner of my eye and refrained from frowning at her question. I hated the way she spoke to me so… so… typically. I mean, sure it was her job to ask me questions and understand the gist of me and all that jazz… but in my opinion, she didn’t know what she was doing. She didn’t know how to be in tune with her patients like Dr. Yates… she didn’t know how to do anything like Dr. Yates.

“I just am.” I turned to look back out of the window and decided at that moment that I would no longer be addressing that woman. This was a session between Dr. Yates and I and she… she was just filling space in the room.

“You’ll be leaving on a fresh slate… and you know that, you’re okay with that… aren’t you? The fear here… lies in the prospect that your fresh slate will be tainted by the horrors of the outside world… please, shut me up at any time and tell me that I’m wrong Christopher… you know not to be afraid to correct me.” She said, laughter mixed softly in her last statement. Smiling to myself, I slowly shook my head to not only indicate to her that I would not stop her because she was not wrong… but also because I could almost feel Dr. Stevenson tensing in her seat. In reality, she sucked and the more Dr. Yates took over these sessions with me virtually, I’m sure she was beginning to understand that more and more.

“So essentially, you’re not afraid to leave… you are afraid to come back.” Dr. Yates finished her observation and I glanced from her to the other occupant of the room, because at this time I didn’t feel as though she deserved the title of doctor, and nodded my head. “I just… I don’t wanna mess up again.”

They were both writing, jotting down whatever it was that they concluded from what I’d said. I could never understand the purpose of the notebooks and I never much cared for them. I was focused on the hand across the table from me writing quickly like I’d just said a mouthful and almost didn’t hear Dr. Yates speaking through the television.

“Would you mind, Dr. Stevenson, if I had just a moment of time with Christopher?” She asked. Her question surprised us both and while I sat still in my seat with raised brows, Dr. Stevenson turned to face the TV before glancing back over her shoulder at me and smiling tightly.

“Sure… take your time.” She didn’t even bother to look back at Dr. Yates. She simply rose swiftly from her seat and glided quickly out of the room. My eyes remained glued to the shut door for a moment as I absorbed what’d just happened… she was in her feelings, because a woman miles away from us just gave her the boot from her own office. I almost snickered aloud, but Dr. Yates cleared her throat and got my attention before I could.

“Christopher…”

“Yes ma’am?”

“No formalities now,” She chuckled, “How have you really been?”

“I’ve been good… better. How have you been?” I smiled.

She smiled in return “Why haven’t I thought to excuse that woman long ago?”

We both laughed, but softly because I really didn’t know how far Dr. Stevenson had ventured away from the door.

“I have been very well, thank you for asking. I haven’t had a successful opportunity to speak to you one on one since your very last session here at the school with me. I wanted to pick your brain a little off record, if you don’t mind.”

“No… I don’t.” She sat there smiling for a while in her signature pose with her hands crossed onto the surface of her desk. It didn’t really look like she even had the notebook in front of her anymore and for that, I was thankful. She really was only interested in having a completely off the record conversation with me… and in a way, I was kind of excited about that.

“I’m sorry that I could not actually be there with you, but you seem to be doing exceptionally well. Communicating comfortably and more frequently… that is phenomenal.”

“I guess.”

“You guess…”

“I don’t really like it here… the people.” I explained slowly.

“It’s not a comfort zone for you. That’s understandable. But you are doing wonderfully during your time with Dr. Stevenson. I must commend you there.” She beamed.

“Thank you.” I smirked.

There was a moment of silence that left me with my head down, unable to face her piercing stare, and I thought maybe she was waiting for me to speak again… so I did.

“Dr. Yates… I-I never got to apologize to you for what happened when you were here…”

“I cannot accept that apology.”

Quickly raising my head, I eyed her with furrowed brows and opened my mouth to speak, but… no words came out. What? Did she really just say that?

“You cannot apologize for something completely out of your control. What happened that day in our therapy session… that was something that you could not prevent, even if you tried. I don’t want you to feel remorseful in any way for actions that were not yours.”

I felt myself nodding as she spoke and though she was right, I couldn’t ignore the regret for what I did that day… but it did also feel a bit strange apologizing on behalf of that other side of me. I didn’t even know what’d happened… until they forced me to watch the footage. And as I sat there staring at the gray image of myself stalking around the room at her, eventually corning her and threatening her in a way that made my stomach churn, I knew I had to offer her an apology as soon as I got the opportunity to.

“I wanted to give you an update, about Hope.”

All the sadness and memories of that last therapy session with Dr. Yates went right out the window the moment I heard that name. Hope… my Hope… my heart.

“What’s wrong with her?” I blurted.

She laughed softly and shook her head as she watched me visibly flinch in my seat, nerves clearly on end “Nothing at all. She’s doing wonderfully… very focused on her studies now. Perhaps a bit too focused, but she’s doing well non-the-less.”

“That’s good…” My voice drifted off for a moment as I thought briefly about her face. Her beautiful face and her pink and always pouted lips and her cute baby hairs that wisped with even the slightest wind and her wild mane of hair that cascaded all over her head like a golden waterfall…

“She’s about eighteen weeks along… and she glows like a ray of sunshine every time I see her.” My heart sank… I hadn’t expected her to discuss the pregnancy. As I said before, I knew she knew that Hope was pregnant, but I guess I completely forgot that she was there with her and I was not and there was a high possibility that they were still in contact in my absence.

“How is the baby? Does she even know what she’s… we… does she know what we’re having?” I didn’t even know I was capable of speaking this fast again because everything I did in life now seemed to be done leisurely.

Dr. Yates seemed to catch onto that because I caught the smile on her face that almost looked like a proud mother watching her child take its first steps.

“The baby is fine… and healthy. She does not know the sex… because she prefers to wait for you to find out.” That right there… those words right there, lit me up from the inside out. I felt like the sun itself would consume my entire body and beam right through my chest. She wanted to wait for me to find out what the gender of our baby was… she wanted to wait for me for something in life period? That made me feel like… the proudest man on earth. It made me feel like standing up and running through the rest of this treatment program so I could get the hell out and run all the way to Georgia to her. She was waiting for me… she was still thinking of me… she hadn’t left me behind.

“Christopher,” Her voice snapped me out of my frantic and joyous thoughts and I blinked rapidly as I turned my attention to her, “My goal here is to help you. You being in this institution will not benefit you… you being out there, in the real world, with your loved ones will.”

The rapid blinking stopped abruptly and I damn near stopped blinking altogether as my heart began to race while I waited almost impatiently for her to go on.

“There is a deal in the works at this time and nothing has been finalized, but… I am working very frivolously to have you released into the care of your mother. There is an entire case pending and I’ve been preparing all things necessary to present to the board of the institute to prove that home treatment would better suit you.”

My eyes shut while she continued to speak. I’m not even sure what she was talking about, something to do with this case that was pending against me, but the only thing my mind could focus on was what she’d said about me being released. I had to repeat a mantra in my head… don’t get your hopes up… don’t get your hopes up… only for these people to let you right back down. But I would simply be lying if I said my heart didn’t flutter with anticipation.

“I cannot make any promises, but I can guarantee you that if you do your part… if you continue to excel in your sessions and you continue to maintain your cooperation with Dr. Stevenson and with whatever regulations they implement for you… I will do everything in my power to get you home.”

Mentally I tattooed those words on my brain and held onto them dearly… there was no doubt in my mind that I would hold up my end of that deal no matter what.

#chrisbrown #chrisbrownff #chrisbrownfanfic #jasminesanders #chrisbrownfanfiction #jasminesandersff #teambreezy #teambreezyff #fanfiction #fanfic

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tifarobles · 6 years

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Sanity Check: Inside Mental Health

I will be alright. Everything is going to be fine. I promise.

At least that’s what I kept trying to tell myself. I had to. It had to be okay.

That’s how I got through 3 years of turbulent ups and downs and falling deeper into a debilitating anxiety disorder that seemed to be triggered by my miscarriage.

I was 16 when I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I wanted to do all I could to avoid being dependent on pharmaceuticals. I’d experienced my mother going through a terrible time trying to stop taking Paxil and I didn’t want to go through that. I wanted to find other ways to deal with my disorder. I did a decent job most of the time. In fact, I don’t think many people even knew I was bipolar. It pretty much only impacted my romantic relationships and very close friendships.

I can point to exact times in my life when I knew I’d been depressed and even more times when I knew I’d been in pretty serious manic episodes. It was usually after a huge life change. It seemed like my body’s way of adapting to something new. However, I can’t pinpoint any of these episodes since being married.

I wasn’t sure if my symptoms were less noticeable in a more stable state or if I had somehow outgrown my disorder. I even wondered if Mike had somehow helped me overcome it. But I never really knew why...

Turns out, it had warped into General Anxiety Disorder. I had never experienced a true panic attack before the miscarriage. Suddenly, they were part of my daily life.

I assumed that once I was able to grieve properly and recover from the tragedy, that my anxiety would fade. However, it only seemed to get worse after Xander was born. It didn’t help that shortly after that I unexpectedly lost my job at Xbox while on maternity leave due to the position being eliminated.

This was my dream job. I had left a very stable, comfortable position in something I was very good at to pursue this seemingly perfect for me job. Everyone told me to take this job, even though I was 6 months pregnant. Even though I was on a brand new team for a brand new role with untred territory. I’d worked for 6 years to get into a position like this one. I had to do all I could for this job.

And just like that… it was gone.

On top of that, Mike was all set up to be a stay-at-home dad, so we had no source of income or insurance for our newborn baby.

The next day Trump was elected.

Let’s just say, that was a miserable week for my emotions. Could I ever feel happy again? I’d look at my son and feel happy enough not to worry.

It wasn’t too long before Mike found some remote work and I was hired at GTS. I had to take a substantial pay cut for this career move, but there were a lot of perks to consider and huge potential for growth. I assumed everything was coming together again and that my emotions would soon follow.

Adjusting to being a working mom was easier than I expected, but still very hard. However, feedback at work was telling me that I was really good at this job. I poured myself into it, taking trips to visit stores, sometimes doing work on weekends, trying to fit the role I never expected to fit. And I liked it. I loved the stores I worked with, and while there were challenging days, overall I felt happy.

As things always do in corporate jobs, things changed. There were some changes for the new year, including a pay cut. I had just switched to commision and was barely making my base salary. Luckily, by this time Mike had gotten a really great job and Xander was loving daycare. I thought it would be okay to make less than I’d ever made if I kept being happy. Was I happy though? I was stressed all the time, always thinking about work, always being completely exhausted from motherhood, trying to maintain so many things every day.

I would look at my life, and outside of raising Xander, I didn’t feel like I was doing anything truly fulfilling. What had happened to my creativity? When was the last time I’d written something? When was the last time I sang a new song? What would 16-year-old dreamer me think of where I was?

I was a good mom. That was the most fulfilling aspect of my entire life. My true legacy and something I had always wanted. He was perfect.

But don’t I deserve more? I’d feel terrible for thinking it. Like, what’s wrong with me? I have everything I’ve ever wanted.

But I knew that was a lie. I’d always wanted more.

Founding LPS came close to what I wanted to do for this world. It scratched that itch for me for years. But it was so much harder now being a mom. It was so hard dividing my time between LPS, Xander, Mike, work, family, friends, and (OMG do I dare think it?) myself! I couldn’t do as much for LPS as I used to and I hadn’t been as deeply involved in a long time. It’s just... different when I can’t go every week. Or maybe it’s different because I’ve been doing it for so long and I’m ready to move on to my next big fulfilling project.

But then I found out that I’d be going to GAMA, representing GTS. Maybe I could find my next project through GTS. Maybe it will be at the other end of the show. I felt honored to be selected. While at the show, I networked until 4am, getting up at 7am to be on time to have a few minutes of breakfast with my team. I became close friends with some other GTS employees while at the show who wanted to work with me more. I was excited for those opportunities. What more could I do with this great company?

Within a few weeks, I was in talks with the marketing department. I was told that I had all the skills that they were looking for. It sounded like a role I’d be good at. One I’d get to finally be creative full-time, something I’d never really gotten to try.

But they wanted someone who could travel. A lot.

I suddenly felt like I was suffocating under the choice between this amazing opportunity or being with my son on weekends.

I couldn’t do that.

I didn’t get the job. But I was still in sales. Yay? I didn’t know how to feel. I was barely making enough to pay for daycare on my worst months. I was literally working in order to pay to be away from my son all week. To do a job that I liked, but that I wasn’t really passionate about. Looking at the paychecks was scary. Everything felt scary. Like weirdly scary.

Car rides alone could cause anxiety attacks. And I had to do a lot of driving since Mike was commuting to Seattle and kicking serious ass at his new job. But I couldn’t keep going on like this.

The anxiety was unbelievable. I couldn’t see into my life. I couldn’t define what it was that I wanted. That too was scary. All I saw was being a good mom, but what else was I… good at? What was I passionate about besides my family? Had I lost my defining characteristic of passion? This thought alone could send me into a racing heart and tension headache. This was anxiety. But I didn’t understand it. I’d never felt this before.

I needed help. I couldn’t take off time from work for therapy. I couldn’t find a therapist outside of work hours. The anxiety had gotten worse. I experienced a 20-day headache. I went to the doctor… where I was first diagnosed with General Anxiety Disorder. I scheduled 6 appointments with therapists. I took time off work to go. I started to take medication for the first time in my life. I had very little PTO for anything. I worked every hour I could to make up for it. I got worse before getting better. I took a medical leave.

On medical leave, I felt like I was seeing for the first time in… years? I would find true happiness in the littlest of things. Xander’s shoes, the smell of his hair, the cat following me around at 1am while I stayed up writing.

I was still passionate. I was still that dreamer. I was still defined by passion. I found passion in my story. I had found my project. It had been in front of me this entire time.

The project I’ve been wanting to finish for over 15 years. Over half of my life.

I looked at my life goals and realized I’d followed the biggest one already by having an amazing partner and child to share my life with. But what was next for me?

Why had I spent 3 years writing instead of having a social life as a teenager? Why had I studied for 4 years with no sleep to obtain a degree in Creative Writing? Why could these characters I created so long ago never once leave my mind? I could see their faces as clearly as the day I created them, drawn mediocrely on lined paper with colored pencils. Now created in every game that has a built-in character creator. Each person that I’d given deep back stories and interesting character arcs, with development far beyond what you’d think a boy-crazy, 14-year-old, awkward, opinionated girl obsessed with video games would be capable of.

I had to follow my dreams. It would never be the right time. “I have to do this before I turn 30,” I thought. As though I’d be able to inform that 14-year-old girl that her hard work would get published before she turns 30. High five her and let her know she makes a great mom and has a husband who knows how to dance, before flying away on a unicorn. I had to make a change. I approached Mike with the idea. He was fully supportive. He’d been with me on this journey through some rough times and questions like “What do I want to do with my life?” at 2am on random nights when I’d wake him up because I couldn’t sleep. He knew I would be happy pursuing this. He knew I needed happiness again. He knew we’d be okay, no matter what.

I don’t know if it’s the medication, my amazing therapist, the life changes, or my luck with having the most amazingly supportive family, but I am so happy. I can’t say the anxiety is gone, that is still a daily struggle. But I know I can be grateful for so many things and that helps calm me down. I am following my dreams. I can’t promise it won’t be a difficult adventure at times, in fact, I’m sure it will be very difficult. But I will be happy while I adventure.

#sanitycheck #mental health #anxitey #gaming industry

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thisisabouta · 6 years

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This is About a... Dynamic Pt.2

I have ALWAYS put other peoples feelings first. Now always is a strong, cemented word and my usage may have some cracks in it. I can’t say that there weren’t a few times in my younger days that I didn’t pick a guy over a friend but within my relationships with my friends, I prioritize them 98% of the time. Or are least I did. Things started to unravel when my best friend started dating someone I introduced her to. I thought it was a good idea until I immediately realized it wasn’t. The dynamics of their relationship aren’t great but I won’t tell someone who they should be in love with. I will however tell them if I think it’s a good fit, if and when they ask me.

My friend that she is now dating is also bipolar. I believe she was diagnosed a few years after me; not that that matters, but the severity of her episodes are more outwardly alarming than mine. Her and my best friend have been dating on and off for over a year. I have had my best friend in my life for a little over 10 years. She met me in the beginning of my partying phase. This phase went on for a good 7/8 years. Obviously I was still mentally ill the entire time. I don’t remember when I told her about my diagnosis and she probably doesn’t either.

We partied together, a lot. Partying, clubbing, whatever. I had just started seriously dating around this time so she was there for that too. I was drunk often so I was “medicated” often. When I came down, she wasn’t there to see it. No I wasn’t drinking everyday I was with her, she was there for normal stuff too but that’s just it. She was there for the normal stuff. She’s not a “let’s talk about how you’re doing type of person”. She’s great for guy bashing.

When I was threatening to kill myself, she wasn’t there for that. When I overdosed, she wasn’t there for that. When I was manic and running circles in my room for days at a time, she wasn’t there for that. She was there the time my first serious boyfriend told me he loved me just to tell me that “he probably didn’t mean it” and she was there the night I blacked out from drinking so much alcohol that I was throwing up black and green bile and her friend whom I had just met had to drag me to and from the bathroom. She left me there to go hang out with a guy.

Still, I never faulted her for any of these things. I chose to love her in spite of it. When you love someone, you accept them or you don’t. I accepted every aspect of her. She accepted what she could understand. I take responsibility for not “letting her in” more but trying to figure out my mental illness and getting everyone on board was not a priority. Anything related to mental illness in regards to her was not in any way a priority, until she started dating someone who had one...

We never fight which is also another reason why I hold her close. It’s rare for me to have someone in my life that I don’t argue with. The issues came to a head when she asked me how she should talk to her girlfriend because she doesn’t know how to talk to a bipolar person. I talked to her about it because if I’m able to help I will but out of the 10+ years of knowing me, she has not once taken an interest in getting to know the inner workings of a bipolar mind. Some could say why would she when I’ve never given her the impression that I needed her to do so and that’s fair but my issue is much bigger than. It’s an issue with her, it’s an issuer with my mother, it’s an issue with every single fucking person who is upset by something that I DID to THEM.

I ask people how they’re doing, rarely do they ask it back. I ask people what’s going on in their relationships. rarely do they ask it back. Granted this hasn’t always been the case and this is not with everyone I know. This is us as adults, after all the partying has stopped and actual adult problems are forming and taking place and this is with the people I would consider closest to me. This is now when Im really starting to fucking notice it and be bothered by it. There is too much truth behind the idea that people can’t handle it when you start treating them the way they’ve been treating you.

I had one day not too long ago, in the middle of whatever the fuck it was that I was doing, where I stopped and said I’m just going to stop doing for people what they don’t do for me and everything has changed. Now Im a bad person and a bad friend. I closed myself off and slammed the fucking door. When it was open, everyone either came thru and destroyed everything or didn’t bother entering at all. When you tell someone who you’ve always been there for, that you were going to overdose on pills and they completely ignore it, why the fuck would you continue to make them a priority?

Why when your mother calls you a burden and says she wishes she never had you, would you text her back.? Yes, that’s some “she’s your mother, so get over it type shit” but when you’ve been living with an earth shattering mental illness for over half your life that she is partially responsible for and when you’re alive but don’t want to be and she’s the reason for you existing in the first place, it’s hard to find peace with that.

I’m pushing people away and I’m stepping back and I don’t feel bad about it. I don’t owe anyone the consideration that hasn’t been shown to me. The fact that anyone even thinks that I should put their needs before my own right now is fucking ridiculous. If I’m a bad person because I’m finally demanding mutual respect then fine, I’m a bad person. I’m tired of saving everyone else.

#depression #mental illness #bipolar disorder #disappointment #mental health #pain #relate #sadness #bipolar #family #family ties #betrayal #lies #texts #texting

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alternativelistening · 7 years

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***content warning: super long venting post, mention of child molestation, homophobia, emotional abuse, child abuse, potential sad feels***

you don’t have to read. just another livejournal type diary post on the internets.

Things seem like they’re getting better with my family. I’m trying to not have expectations for anything more than what I’m seeing right now like I was taught in therapy. But something happened recently that triggered some feelings and memories.

For context: I have four younger siblings. My first sister is one of the people who contributed to my declining mental health, and I know I’m part of her traumas too. I own that I lashed out at her when I was young and badly dealing with my own abuse. Even though I was hurt, I was also wrong. And I’ve actively worked on it. I notice that she’s grown a lot too. But I don’t expect her to own this nor do I deserve to feel that she needs to. What has always bothered me the most with her was that she’s always taken my mom’s side on things. She won’t believe the things my mom said and did to me. And she always excused my mom for the things that she witnessed herself. I mean, no parent is perfect. They’re human too. But both my parents had a large part in how fucked up I am. It’s just not fair to blame a child for their own abuse. I was constantly insulted, humiliated, and invalidated every moment I tried to open to her. So much so that I had to cut her out of my life for some time. But this year, my sister and I are finally somewhat getting along.

My sister did finally admit on Monday that while not everything can be our mom’s fault, it’s impossible for her to not have a large impact on me. I appreciated that she can say that much at least. Time with her has been okay. We text each other every now and then. I want us to continue getting along. But the other day, during one of the game nights I hosted, she announced to the room that I used to cut myself while sharing a story about our childhood. She probably doesn’t remember because of the way it slipped out after she had a Soft Parade and a couple glasses of wine. I’ll paraphrase what she said.

“Yeah, our childhood was really wild. Like we actually practiced drills whenever there was a sign of our parents getting angry. Hannah would time us and we would all practice running into our rooms and find good hiding spots. So we were usually ready for whatever was coming.

We’ve grown a lot. Became better for it. And Hannah used to be so terrible too. [I verbally agreed with my sister here and let her continue speaking after giving a couple examples of my awfulness to the room] It’s ridiculous. I was always the perfect child. I never got into trouble. I usually had straight As, like the first in our family to get straight As. But who did my mom buy clothes for? Who got an iPod? Hannah did. She cut herself and got an iPod and mall trips. I worked really hard and got hand me downs every once in a while.”

The listeners in the room were stunned for a moment, me especially. But she continued with bittersweet stories of our childhood as if nothing was wrong. We all moved on and focused on the board games.

I don’t think she did it with malice. I want to believe she wasn’t trying to hurt me. I think it was an accident. And maybe most of the people there already knew this about me. It just really hurt me that it came up so casually (and inaccurately). Her complaints and feelings were completely valid. I agree. It wasn’t fair that she didn’t get more from our parents. I always knew she was a little jealous and bitter about this. She eventually learned that different kids have different needs. I still sympathize with her. But as flawed as my mom was, she wanted to at least try to give me reasons to live and do better in school. My mom didn’t understand mental healthcare. She had no knowledge in emotional labor. She just had money. Could she have done better? Absolutely. Like not pressure me to lie during one of my psych evaluations and let me actually get the help I needed when I was 15. And you know, just be kinder and more supportive. But still, I can understand and appreciate that she tried in her own way.

It just seems so reductive and callous to frame my cutting as some cry for attention or for materialistic gain. My whole life my mom would tell people that to avoid any accountability. Clearly she sold it to my siblings pretty well. And it’s not fair. I already had too much attention. I didn’t need more. I constantly wished for less. Cutting myself just felt really fucking good compared to the way my whole family and memories made me feel. And you know, if it had been for attention or for anything really, it still would have been a serious situation that deserved validity and compassion. Really. If someone is cutting themself for attention, just fucking give them attention.

Thanks to coping methods I’ve learned over the years through friends, experiences, and therapy, I don’t cut myself anymore. But the feelings and thoughts are still there. And I work really hard to sort them out. I’ve covered up some of my scars with tattoos. I don’t want the fact that I used to cut myself to be announced into a room when we’re trying to play board games.

I could tell my sister this. I could communicate with her. I know communication of my feelings and issues is something I don’t do enough of with anyone, including my partner and best friends. I could share everything. But I don’t want to fight my sister. We’ve only just started getting on better terms. I don’t want to get hurt when I get shut down again for trying to share. I also don’t want to fall back into blaming her for things that aren’t her fault. I’m sure it was just a tactless accident. I’m just processing what happened and all the bad feelings and memories that came from it through my occasional venting into the void.

It made me think about my traumas, my queerness, and the way my mom handled things. Much later, maybe three or four years after coming out, my mom was still cold to me but was growing civil. Around this time I also had a major bipolar manic episode while traveling for work (at the time I didn’t know it was bipolar). When I came home, my mom said I should get a check up, something about her insurance blah blah blah. This was unrelated to the major episode I had but I didn’t know at the time how good the timing was. I went to a gyno and a physician. Other than typical Midwestern Vitamin D deficiency, nothing was really wrong at that time. But my physician seemed to have thought I had ADHD and maybe more after I had to go into detail about some things relating to my health in a holistic sense. My physician recommended a great mental health clinic she knew.

When my mom asked how my check up went, I told her about the ADHD issue that my doctor mentioned. She didn’t actually know what it was, as educated as she is. I explained it to her and together we actually connected all the things about me and the things I did during school that ties in with the symptoms of ADHD. So, for the first time ever, she actively supported me in caring for my mental health.

I met with a psychiatrist, who told me before she could diagnose me with anything, I should meet with both her and a therapist for some time. And so from there, after a few months of sessions, they both were 100% convinced that I suffered from ADHD, PTSD, and mixed bipolar disorder. It wasn’t the first time I met with psychiatrists and therapists. But it was the first time I got to consistently meet up with professionals without my mom looming over me. I don’t know why I never connected my episodes of relived memories, intense range and level of emotions, strong reactions to movement, dissociation, problematic drinking, constant suicidal thoughts, self-harm & destruction, depression, paranoia, rage, extreme impulsiveness, hyper vigilance, etc to these issues.

Eventually my psychiatrist put me on a trial and error of meds and dosages. I was warned that it would be a rough month or two for me as we experiment. I had no idea how rough. All those symptoms I described kind of hit me all at once. Literally a single sentence put me in a corner, crying and shaking, as I relived an old traumatic memory over and over again for hours. My empathy became so intense, I shut down because my own pain was already too much to handle at the time. I sabotaged relationships and nearly ruined things with my partner (again) over things that didn’t warrant the responses I gave it. By the time we found the right combination and amount of meds and I was stable, things were too late with a lot of people. I felt like I had to accept that and move on. But maybe part of that is cowardice, again not wanting to open up and communicate.

Around that time I updated my mom on these developments, diagnosis and meds-wise for insurance purposes. And then we got a little more personal because she was telling me how strange it was that I needed all this help when she’s been through worse and doesn’t require the same. I personally think that she needs some therapy at least but that’s another issue. Anyway, during that heated argument and my instability, I told her about the men who molested me throughout my childhood. I never had any intention of telling her. As I got older, I felt like I was protecting her. But it came out. She kind of just stopped. And I started to cry for the younger me and I cried for my mom too.

“When did it happen?” “The first time was back in California. You used to drop me off at an old couple’s house to babysit me while you were working. They had an adult son. He would take me to his room... He would do things to me.” “Why didn’t you ever tell me?” “I didn’t know how to. I didn’t feel safe. And I don’t think anyone would have believed me.” “You were only four years old.” “I know.”

It’s just weird how things that can seem almost unrelated can trigger me into these memories and feelings. But I’m honestly okay right now. I didn’t cut myself. I didn’t drink. I just had a good cry and typed this out. I’ll get ready to go out in a bit. I appreciate that I’m not going to ruminate. And if you’ve actually read this, I’m sorry. But thanks for listening.

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