Hello everyone, I've finally gained the courage to post here, let's hope I can explain this clearly... I apologise for the length
I'm 18 years old and I've been misdiagnosed with all sorts of mental health issues, put on meds, discharged and told to get on with it. At no point did I ever get any better and life feels entirely as hollow and worthless as it did 3 years ago, when all this started. I've never really known what was wrong, and felt that this was my fault – I've spent every waking moment trying to find an answer because I thought that it was under my control.
Here's the background: Firstly, I had an abusive childhood, extremely toxic environment – not that this would cause this but it's sure as hell made it harder. I was terrorised for any and every 'misdemeanour', ie. expressing an emotion or just simply existing most of the time. As a result, I have long-standing issues of serious self-loathing and blame.
My parents had an awful relationship, my mother had domestically abused my father for a long time and I was never allowed to know him or show affection. He was confined to his room for years with serious depression and suicidal thoughts, having previously been extremely happy and successful. When I was 14, he got cancer, but this wasn't explained. The abuse continued, her using me to inflict unspeakable misery on him.
When I was 15, she then divorced him, taking me with her. I was barely allowed to see my father in his dying days, the last real impression we had together had been me and my mother showering him with abuse. She then completely turned on me, having been the only person I'd ever trusted, she turned all this abuse on me, and as I got major depression, not allowed to talk about him or what had happened, she blamed me for everything that had happened to her and confined me to my room too as I dropped out of school. The depression was merely my selfish attempt to engineer sympathy and justify laziness, allegedly, and I shouldn't be struggling.
At this time I attempted suicide seeing no way out. Fortunately this failed, and somehow I summoned up enough hope and energy at 16 to go out and look for somewhere else to live. By the time I was 17 I'd found the money, due to a fortuitous life insurance policy, to buy a little apartment in a strange town. I was a complete mess and still am, but I'd escaped her.
Despite this, I was left with no one to turn to, with both my parents out of the picture, and no other family to consult. My life since then has been a dissociative blur, my memory is barely there, and every day seems to traumatise me further and I can't even leave the house without feeling such terror that I'm physically ill. Absolutely everything feels like it presents mortal danger, I feel so vulnerable and lost. I somehow convinced myself I was imagining it for long enough to go to school for the past year, but every single day was a nightmare. I'd wake up, throw up, go for a couple of hours, have to rush home, then I'd have a migraine and sleep until the next day. My life ceased to exist.
Some days, now, it's possible for me to leave the house, perhaps to go to the supermarket. But I can't explain the pain it causes me and frankly I'm ashamed of it. My vision starts to distort, I shake and people stare. I can manage maybe 10 minutes before I flee. I don't understand it and I find it hard to relate to sufferers of PTSD who link it to a horrific life-endangering event, I don't feel I have that yet I seem to struggle just as much, I feel so astoundingly weak.
I feel immense shame for coming to a PTSD forum and standing among you who have suffered far worse than I, claiming validation I don't feel entitled to. But absolutely nothing else but a traumatic response explains this anymore. This isn't mere depression or social anxiety, my whole life has become about nothing other than avoiding terror and reminders of the past. It doesn't pass or falter. Every effort goes to pretending nothing's happened in the hope that it'll be a dream I can walk away from.
As my friends all leave for university I'm left feeling like I have nothing left, I can't go to the shops, let alone go out and make a life for myself and get a degree. But where do I go from here? Life has just been paused and I have no idea if it's even possible to live like a normal human being again. I nearly always feel like this is permanent, that I'll never be able to leave the house without feeling like someone is going to see who I really am, and attack me. Absolutely no one understands and frequently people ask me what my problem is, baffled that I'm making so much of it.
I guess that's why I came here, seeking some last source of hope. I hope to God you all can see some sense in what I've written. I feel, maybe irrationally, that my story is pathetic and that I should man up and sort my life out. But I know I can't and I just want someone to understand.
Sorry for the sheer length of that and sorry if it seems really pleading, I'm just glad to have found somewhere where people might be able to relate, if only a little bit. Thanks so much for reading it means a lot to me. :)
I'm 18 years old and I've been misdiagnosed with all sorts of mental health issues, put on meds, discharged and told to get on with it. At no point did I ever get any better and life feels entirely as hollow and worthless as it did 3 years ago, when all this started. I've never really known what was wrong, and felt that this was my fault – I've spent every waking moment trying to find an answer because I thought that it was under my control.
Here's the background: Firstly, I had an abusive childhood, extremely toxic environment – not that this would cause this but it's sure as hell made it harder. I was terrorised for any and every 'misdemeanour', ie. expressing an emotion or just simply existing most of the time. As a result, I have long-standing issues of serious self-loathing and blame.
My parents had an awful relationship, my mother had domestically abused my father for a long time and I was never allowed to know him or show affection. He was confined to his room for years with serious depression and suicidal thoughts, having previously been extremely happy and successful. When I was 14, he got cancer, but this wasn't explained. The abuse continued, her using me to inflict unspeakable misery on him.
When I was 15, she then divorced him, taking me with her. I was barely allowed to see my father in his dying days, the last real impression we had together had been me and my mother showering him with abuse. She then completely turned on me, having been the only person I'd ever trusted, she turned all this abuse on me, and as I got major depression, not allowed to talk about him or what had happened, she blamed me for everything that had happened to her and confined me to my room too as I dropped out of school. The depression was merely my selfish attempt to engineer sympathy and justify laziness, allegedly, and I shouldn't be struggling.
At this time I attempted suicide seeing no way out. Fortunately this failed, and somehow I summoned up enough hope and energy at 16 to go out and look for somewhere else to live. By the time I was 17 I'd found the money, due to a fortuitous life insurance policy, to buy a little apartment in a strange town. I was a complete mess and still am, but I'd escaped her.
Despite this, I was left with no one to turn to, with both my parents out of the picture, and no other family to consult. My life since then has been a dissociative blur, my memory is barely there, and every day seems to traumatise me further and I can't even leave the house without feeling such terror that I'm physically ill. Absolutely everything feels like it presents mortal danger, I feel so vulnerable and lost. I somehow convinced myself I was imagining it for long enough to go to school for the past year, but every single day was a nightmare. I'd wake up, throw up, go for a couple of hours, have to rush home, then I'd have a migraine and sleep until the next day. My life ceased to exist.
Some days, now, it's possible for me to leave the house, perhaps to go to the supermarket. But I can't explain the pain it causes me and frankly I'm ashamed of it. My vision starts to distort, I shake and people stare. I can manage maybe 10 minutes before I flee. I don't understand it and I find it hard to relate to sufferers of PTSD who link it to a horrific life-endangering event, I don't feel I have that yet I seem to struggle just as much, I feel so astoundingly weak.
I feel immense shame for coming to a PTSD forum and standing among you who have suffered far worse than I, claiming validation I don't feel entitled to. But absolutely nothing else but a traumatic response explains this anymore. This isn't mere depression or social anxiety, my whole life has become about nothing other than avoiding terror and reminders of the past. It doesn't pass or falter. Every effort goes to pretending nothing's happened in the hope that it'll be a dream I can walk away from.
As my friends all leave for university I'm left feeling like I have nothing left, I can't go to the shops, let alone go out and make a life for myself and get a degree. But where do I go from here? Life has just been paused and I have no idea if it's even possible to live like a normal human being again. I nearly always feel like this is permanent, that I'll never be able to leave the house without feeling like someone is going to see who I really am, and attack me. Absolutely no one understands and frequently people ask me what my problem is, baffled that I'm making so much of it.
I guess that's why I came here, seeking some last source of hope. I hope to God you all can see some sense in what I've written. I feel, maybe irrationally, that my story is pathetic and that I should man up and sort my life out. But I know I can't and I just want someone to understand.
Sorry for the sheer length of that and sorry if it seems really pleading, I'm just glad to have found somewhere where people might be able to relate, if only a little bit. Thanks so much for reading it means a lot to me. :)
