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I don't know what I'm doing here really - I only mean, I don't know how to chat, or postings, I'm not sure if I'm supposed to reply or start a new thing here.


Thank you. I need more help than I am finding. I'm totally broken and I'm burning a lot of bridges around town. I keep flipping out on people, then I realize it sometime later, like what did I do that for? I've been looking for 3 years since I got married, and moved out here. I thought this was a pretty cool place, until I moved here. I am so discouraged with the medical quacks who I put so much trust in. I have taken a billion pills in my life. I know my life is shortened because there is no way this steady stream of medications, along with all the stress, anxiety, and panic has taken a toll. Our bodies are not designed to take so much stress. My thoughts are allover the place, my mind is racing with panicky thoughts, and I'm obsessed about a couple things right now. I'm losing it. I'd pray but it doesn't seem to help and if there is a god....I'd ask a lot of "why" questions.
I didn't respond to your question....do I see anybody now? Yes. There's never been a time in 44 years I've been with a therapist of some kind or other. Cha-ching! Money, money, and more money wasted. It got me nowhere, except to rehash my past. I didn't know about PTSD until 20 plus years ago when I was diagnosed, but not one single "doctor" addressed it - I was also diagnosed with bi-polar and that's what everyone after that rolled with. Easier I believe.
 
Whoa, 3 hours a night is not good. You really need to get a handle on that first. That's like "emergency appointment" territory. Could you get an appointment with a pdoc or regular doc?
Oh, yes. Lots of doctors, and I have too many bills to prove it. My husband bitches at me whenever I want money, and is now starting on medical bills. I think I may have found ONE and keeping my fingers crossed. She reinstated my benzos, shorter acting one which is fine with me, and a couple others. I think she might know what she's doing. Thank you.
 
I'm concerned about the medications and possibly your trial and error with them because we know the poly-pharmacy effect can be lethal. I think there are doctors who over-prescribe in trying to help but problems can arise. A person can forget they took one pill and then take another thinking that this time, it'll all work out. This can boomerang and with the use of several meds, then the side effects of one med can mix with side effects of another and it's not a good recipe for the brain. Meds are potent and an arbitrary cocktail is dangerous, can cause fogginess to loss of concentration. I hope you'll seek out some help. There are safe ways to possibly eliminate one at the time if you are self-medicating. Can you eat well, take some supplemental vitamins, and join a yoga group and walk outside in the meantime?
 
!
"Don't you remember anything? I just told you yesterday!"
I'm concerned about the medications and possibly your trial and error with them because we know the poly-pharmacy effect can be lethal. I think there are doctors who over-prescribe in trying to help but problems can arise. A person can forget they took one pill and then take another thinking that this time, it'll all work out. This can boomerang and with the use of several meds, then the side effects of one med can mix with side effects of another and it's not a good recipe for the brain. Meds are potent and an arbitrary cocktail is dangerous, can cause fogginess to loss of concentration. I hope you'll seek out some help. There are safe ways to possibly eliminate one at the time if you are self-medicating. Can you eat well, take some supplemental vitamins, and join a yoga group and walk outside in the meantime?
Thanks for your concern. I've been on meds 40+ years, steady, one cocktail after another. First for depression, and went on from there. You're absolutely right about everything, and believe me - I'm trying to get off anything. They hand you more and more....some to work synergisticly (?REALLY?!!) with the others. I'm so finished here.
 
I just wrote an entire post and it disappeared. I'm pissed! The end sentence is above....! Don't you remember anything ? I just told you yesterday. PISSSSS!
 
What I wrote that disappeared doesn't matter. Seriously, just like the rest of my life. I ruined Thanksgiving. dinner came out fine. But apparently I was talking away. I'm so pissed at husband of 3 short years. He lied about everything before we got married. I'm blown away. I've lost interest in every thing. I don't have time to go back. My son is pissed at me now and we were just getting good. I took meds, as prescribed, she added a new one, and I was out of it. My son left saying he didn't like see me this way. I explained things to him, I would expect compassion from him. I didn't get it. He left as if I was drinking - I wasn't.

Then it was open mic for my wonderful narcissistic husband to open a can of worms. He must have told me how sad I made my son a dozen times. If there was a god I'd say, GOD!!! What the hell? And bitching went on and on. There will be no relaxing, even if you hide - he'll bellow for me and I have to try really hard to ignore it. I used to run to him when he'd do that.

I can't do anything right - this started 3-4 months after we got married. fast forward: Now i can't even buy a banana to suit him. Seemed to be able to for 2-1/2 years, but suddenly I got stupider. The money he gives me - 60 wk to buy groceries. 40 to me for my 'frivolous' stuff like a lotion or useless mouthwash? I used to get bitched at for not buying meat (He said, sure I know what you do, wait til we go to ________ on the weekend and you pick out lots of meat then BECAUSE I'M THERE TO BUY IT.) Not the reason at all-I just don't have money for expensive meat. So I changed and stopped buying so many vegies and bought meat:

NOW ITS!! "Why are you buying so much meat. It's going to go to waste....etc...." (It never goes to waste.) Then he starts out on "don't you ever go through the frozen food and find out what's there?" I always do, I know whats in there, he's seen me do it. I am a good cook, so I've been told by many.

A FEW of the names I've been called so far:

Dumb as a rock
stupid
(I took a bite of dinner, couldn't eat, got up to take care of it) "You aren't going to eat just to spite me!"
imbecile
slow
don't know anything
don't know even how to balance a check book (what is wrong with you?)
As usual, you've probably lost (whatever) it
SOMEBODY broke ________ (fill in the blank) even if I didn't touch it and I'm in the furthest room in house. (all the time!!)
You don't need to know my accounts, if something happens to me they'll contact you. (wrong)
etc, etc, etc, it goes on forever. I don't call him names.)

I've slipped out and said "shut up" and he says, "see how you talk to me? You're mean!" Trying to start a fight?"
By the way, He tells me I'm mean all the time. Pretty sure it's called gas-lighting, because he's the one!

I'm ready to give up. He said he was 'reneging" on all pre-marital promises. He's a f*cking dickhead that I have to be around right now because I have nothing. He knows it. He treats me like every other abuser has - a little different ways of course, maybe worse since he OWNS me. They all have their favorite attack. I didn't him, he picked me. I backed out of it 3 times. We dated 2 years - my gf even approved. He hid it well Control freak. Narcissist. I'm screwed for awhile.

I told him a very personal story. Something that happened when I was 20 - raped by stranger - went to acupuncturist who proceeded to put his fingers everywhere they should be. I had no idea! And a second time, but this time he has wine to serve me, and he knew I'd drink it." and a couple years of him getting me drunk and having sex w me, conscious or not. No. I didn't report him!! I was taught not to report any one who gave me something. I only reported the guy, who we caught, who broke into my house and rapped me and it was violent, knife for my throat, and rags for my mouth included. I was pissed. I'd never met him and he didn't give me anything to allow him to take advantage of me - because that was the thing. If a man would give me something, at 5 it was chocolate peanut clusters, money, booze w sugar, and SHHHH! This is our little secret. When I got older it was lobster.

The lobster is long gone, I'm left with a self-centered man, he's rude, doesn't trust me and never has. Questions everything I do with a million questions. Doesn't matter what it is. I try not to talk because I'll get a lecture. If I say " this might be a good way to do it", he will let me know his way, a different way would be better, and then gets into any way that would be good - except mine. He's just like my dad. Reincarnated.

I need help.
 
Your situation sounds very painful. It resonates with me in regards to your spouse. I can't advise you what to do but any daily verbal onslaught is simply demoralizing bad for you. I look back over the years I spent and wonder how did I function as well as I did. I worked, had kids, kept a very clean house and gardened.. I think it was easier to deny than to confront. When I did confront it because abuse escalated and I was in fear for my life, I left and didn't look back. I am so sorry you must be living with so much anxiety. Please don't allow the actions of others to measure your self-worth. Recovery is a lifelong commitment, not easy at all, and there's certainly no one size that fits all in approaches to healing because we are unique. What worked best for me was no contact. I recall a therapist asking me "How do you feel when he leaves the house, is away a long time"? I said "relieved and relaxed".
 
No more than 3 hours a night. Not that I wanted to take them, but out of desperation I took Ambien. I upped it to 3 finally after a couple days (1, then 2, then 3) None of that worked. I'm tired. Yes.
Ugh, I'm so sorry. Have you had a sleep study? I'm in the 2-3 hours per night range myself, since June, and I'm about to lose it, haha, but I'm scheduled for a sleep study next month.
 
I don't know why I can talk about the sexual abuse and not about the horrendous surrounds that I grew up in. It was unbearable from the start. Tiny little shack with outhouse when I was born. Back in that time - late 50's and through the 60's. ice cold potty trips became a thing of the past since we finally got an indoor toilet. The house never, ever saw a drop of paint. There was tar paper that covered the shack, unfinished, nothing over it. What should have gone over it I think was a layer or two of insulation, then boards, then paint?

The shack itself was sitting on cinder blocks that I suppose was suppose to be the 'foundation'? The ice cold air blew right under the place. During those days there were ice sickles from roof to ground. 'Grapes of Wrath' a girlfriend said when she saw the only picture of the place. The tar paper was shredded and hung by wisps after a few short years. Very little was left of it by the time I left, which was an escape at 17. Doesn't everyone get married at that age? No, I wasn't pregnant. I was in 'love'. We had a big wedding, all my high school friends were invited, and it must have cost so much. Damn, it's all so sad to me, because in retrospect, it was an escape. That's all it amounted to. He was a nice man too. I'm the one who was messed up. I still feel bad about that.

I pretty much up and left all the kids I'd know since kindergarten, moved to nearby town to graduate early. I was instantly popular because even though I was 17, I now could get booze. Hubby could supply it. So new friends thought I was the cat's meow because we had Tequila Sunrises's before school. It made perfect sense to me. I was so happy for awhile. I had a new washer and dryer, I had new everything. We didn't have to use the oven as the only source of heat. I found out there was a thing called central air.

We never had a lawn, and I learned from older siblings we lived like no one else we knew. We were 25 miles out in the country. When I started kindergarten, the same year the sexual abuse started from my loving grandfather, I noticed other houses were painted, had lawns, even fences and gates, nice things around their places, and I knew right then I was less than. Some had an upstairs, and basements. And trees, and flowers, and gardens. Their places were nice and neat. I was embarrassed at 5 years old. I had a load of secrets to hold close now. Secrets of all kinds. Too many grown-up secrets for one little person.

I wasn't an outcast as you might expect. My Mom did what she could because most everything was out of her control. My dad was a bully, verbally abusive to her, the kind I ended up with in every relationship I had. Only some of mine were physical to being threatened w a gun. I was dressed impeccably. I was told to be a good girl and smile at everyone. I smiled til my cheeks hurt. I had very good grades. But I always had my bigger than life secrets which only multiplied as the years went on.
Ugh, I'm so sorry. Have you had a sleep study? I'm in the 2-3 hours per night range myself, since June, and I'm about to lose it, haha, but I'm scheduled for a sleep study next month.
 
I don't know why I can talk about the sexual abuse and not about the horrendous surrounds that I grew up in. It was unbearable from the start. Tiny little shack with outhouse when I was born. Back in that time - late 50's and through the 60's. ice cold potty trips became a thing of the past since we finally got an indoor toilet. The house never, ever saw a drop of paint. There was tar paper that covered the shack, unfinished, nothing over it. What should have gone over it I think was a layer or two of insulation, then boards, then paint?

The shack itself was sitting on cinder blocks that I suppose was suppose to be the 'foundation'? The ice cold air blew right under the place. During those days there were ice sickles from roof to ground. 'Grapes of Wrath' a girlfriend said when she saw the only picture of the place. The tar paper was shredded and hung by wisps after a few short years. Very little was left of it by the time I left, which was an escape at 17. Doesn't everyone get married at that age? No, I wasn't pregnant. I was in 'love'. We had a big wedding, all my high school friends were invited, and it must have cost so much. Damn, it's all so sad to me, because in retrospect, it was an escape. That's all it amounted to. He was a nice man too. I'm the one who was messed up. I still feel bad about that.

I pretty much up and left all the kids I'd know since kindergarten, moved to nearby town to graduate early. I was instantly popular because even though I was 17, I now could get booze. Hubby could supply it. So new friends thought I was the cat's meow because we had Tequila Sunrises's before school. It made perfect sense to me. I was so happy for awhile. I had a new washer and dryer, I had new everything. We didn't have to use the oven as the only source of heat. I found out there was a thing called central air.

We never had a lawn, and I learned from older siblings we lived like no one else we knew. We were 25 miles out in the country. When I started kindergarten, the same year the sexual abuse started from my loving grandfather, I noticed other houses were painted, had lawns, even fences and gates, nice things around their places, and I knew right then I was less than. Some had an upstairs, and basements. And trees, and flowers, and gardens. Their places were nice and neat. I was embarrassed at 5 years old. I had a load of secrets to hold close now. Secrets of all kinds. Too many grown-up secrets for one little person.

I wasn't an outcast as you might expect. My Mom did what she could because most everything was out of her control. My dad was a bully, verbally abusive to her, the kind I ended up with in every relationship I had. Only some of mine were physical to being threatened w a gun. I was dressed impeccably. I was told to be a good girl and smile at everyone. I smiled til my cheeks hurt. I had very good grades. But I always had my bigger than life secrets which only multiplied as the years went on.
YES. I did. They determined I wasn't sleeping well. cpap I couldn't use. thanks.
 
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