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Sufferer Finally Diagnosed At 30

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Hello. I have been eager to "get better" for all of my adult life. I am still on my path. I have spent years in therapy. I have talked with loved ones. I focus on doing my best and I let myself try good experiences. The problem is that for a very long time I wasn't really getter by any relief from my private suffering. My symptoms were always all over the place. Disordered eating but no recognition of or diagnosis of an eating disorder. At 18 years old, 5 feet 4.5 inches and weighing 120lbs.... I was obsessed with plastic surgery and had plans to save my money for liposuction. I had OCD features with ritualistic grooming, tapping and beliefs that mostly just got me yelled at by my father with no recognition that I may have needed help. I really did the best I could with myself for as long as I could and was very excited when I finally had access to psychological counseling at age 19 in college. But, it took me earning a degree in psychology to recently help a therapist finally give me an appropriate diagnosis and to begin the true healing process with me. So many people and professionals missed my PTSD for so long.

When I was 7 years old, right after my parents divorced, my mother began to use drugs and became very physically abusive. She would leave for days at a time and there were days that I did not eat. The physical abuse was very intense, involving choking and her pulling knives. My father and other family members knew about this abuse+neglect but privacy and family's secrets were all the rage back then. I suffered. I got into trouble for resisting or trying to get help myself. A whooping for talking to family or leaving the bedroom (no exception for food). I would try to save money for my fantasy "get away" to a better life but my mother would tear our home apart looking for money if she suspected I had it. All our things were pawned and I missed a year of school. Then she left me with a random woman...who was also very physically abusive and was very verbal about not wanting me there unless I was being a complete servant. She would also force me and her own children to fight until one of them finally beat me. I got very good at fighting...so it never happened. I became different child. I was a high test score, high achieving little girl before my parents divorced. My primary activity was reading and learning about outer space. I wanted to be a scientist when I grew up. I was quiet and sensitive. After a year of this new life I was essentially wild. I was excellent at stealing and adults would ask me to steal for them. The neglect. The abuse. The abandonment. ...and then one day a blessed social worker came to get me and delivered me into the care of my father. The thing that my mother used to get me to stay silent about the abuse, a social worker taking me, actually saved my life. By this time I was 9 and I resumed a normal life. I went back to school. I was no longer isolated and able to be with family. I ate every day. But....I had no mother. I missed her and was worried about her constantly. The world must have smelled my vulnerability because I was bullied every day. I also had Fs on my report card due to being unable to do things due to inattentiveness or having missed a year of school. It was supposedly all better... but it it was still bad. I was also constantly being a target of sexual play with other children. I didn't know how to say no, I was overly compliant thanks to my mothers tyranny and abuse (plus my natural born shy nature when not in fight or flight mode). There was a lot happening.

Despite all this I was able to set my sights on my future with a lot of help from educators. I was eventually an award earning, high performing jewel. But...nobody acknowledged my symptoms. The inattentiveness, "zoning out", social isolation, suddenly crying and panicking because I thought I was dying, poor bodily hygiene in early adolescence. I skipped showers often and tried to avoid touching myself at the height of the peer molestation. I couldn't swallow for about one year. I had a very hard time eating and sometimes flatly could not do it. Sadly. I was mostly scolded for these symptoms and the adults tried to shame me into acting "normal". It was my fault that there was something wrong with me.

There is a lot more. I had both a beautiful and a completely awful early adulthood because of all this untreated trauma. Managing and enjoying many many successes while being vulnerable to abuse and contemplating suicide in private. I even once joined a church only to be honed in on and spiritually manipulated very severely by a minister. While also doing heroic acts of service and maintaining a beautiful outer image.

I shared all this because, firstly, this time I believe I am among people who will understand and who are also sharing their stories.

Also I am sharing because I have lived a variety of highly traumatic events that STILL therapists were essentially telling me to forget about so I could enjoy my external success. I would tell the details of my childhood experiences just to have them pushed away. These would be the first times I ever had a chance to "tell on" and ask for help for what was being done to me (my past was still in my present)....and every therapist side stepped the content. One therapist even terminated therapy with me because I had a "trauma history". But isn't that the point of therapy?

I suffered for an unnecessarily long time and I am still struggling to find the best mental and emotional health care for myself. Even the therapist who finally diagnosed me correctly (nightly nightmares, zoning out, avoiding etc.) basically wants to hand me off to someone else. She's absolutely correct in wanting me to be treated by a trauma specialist....but she can't be bothered to spend ten seconds helping me find providers who accept my insurance.

I believe that I have really been healing myself....but with assistance. Each "safer" (nobody is completely safe) person who has come into my life has given me a little step on my ladder out of the nightmare of my childhood and it's damage to my little person (me). I think that getting true help from a true professional sooner would have prevented my adulthood suffering (mostly in attempts to feel better or fix people/things...hitting my face and soul on brick walls for years and years). But at least I'm still here agter 30 and still expecting to fulfill the little blueprint of a complete and flourishing human being that I was born with me. My dreams. My hopes. The "good things" in life. Healthy relationships. A truly loving family.

This may be a parentified child talking here, but I know the child I was before my life was turned upside down. I maintain healthy and success filled expectations for myself. I hope that I can get additional steps toward healing from being a part of this group.

Thank you for reading.
 
A very warm welcome to you! It is nice to have you here.
It is amazing what you have endured. You are in good company.

From my experience, it takes just the right match in therapy, and therapist, mixed with lifestyle changes, (and for me, meds) to gradually see improvement in my condition.

I hope you keep posting as you have questions or needs for support. Enjoy!
 
Thank you. This is something I have had to hide for my entire life. Being welcomed, my hidden self, feels very healing already. That having suffered traumatic events doesn't mean that I am to be isolated and discarded because I am damaged and not perfect. Having a diagnosis has been very affirming and psychologically liberating. I am happy to find community and will keep looking for my best fit therapist.
 
I know your sort of story very well. I dealt with constant abuse, and while it wasn't my mother with drug problems (a sibling), she was the primary abuser. My father was in the picture but had his own black depression and alcohol issues to deal with. When my sibling was taken away when I was six, it got really really bad and didn't get better for as long as I was under that roof-I found out later that I was blamed for his being taken away-my parents thought I had told the social worker about my brother being abused. It wasn't until a couple of years ago I found this out and told them what I *had* said. It hasn't changed much, and yes, I still interact with them all because all of them but the sibling in question live in the same city I do and know where I live. If I cut them out they would show up on my doorstep. After I moved out, my mother was known to walk into my apartment and drag me out of my bedroom by my hair when I was sleeping (because she wanted to go shopping and I wasn't awake after a twelve hour shift that had ended three hours ago).

I didn't even know what I went through was that strange-I thought the warnings about abuse were just people saying what they were supposed to and that everyone went through the same thing. I was threatened that social workers would come for me (my sibling was returned after three months to their care) and that I'd be put in a group home where I'd be molested if I told anyone. CSA is one of the few things I didn't experience growing up and I was terrified of it.

I was given my first set of anti anxiety meds when I was eighteen and my motehr made me feel like I was faking it and that the pills were pointless. When the meds ran out, I didn't get them renewed and the little voice she'd successfully lodged in my head made me avoid therapists as quacks looking to make a buck off people who were just looking for pity.

I didn't get diagnosed until I was 27. I scoffed and ignored it. I had been in to see a counselor because I was stressed from exams. I was getting a 4.3 GPA, but I had failed courses a few years before and they still hadn't been wiped from my record (The time for expiry had passed), so my GPA was reporting falsely and I'd been handed a notice I was on academic probation. I went to see her to see if she could fix it and help me find appropriate methods to remove it. She was admirably sneaky and had me in to see her regularly to work on issues ostensibly to help me with my academic problems, but was working on my psychological problems as well, without me knowing about it until she gave me the diagnosis.

I ignored it for years and then I..broke. It was awful. I was still doing well, but a dear friend had just been diagnosed with late stage colon cancer. He'd been told his treatment was going to be harsh and he had a low survival rate. I was in class and started shaking so badly my desk was vibrating. I couldn't stop. I had to leave the class and go home early (the professor was excellent about it).

I started sleeping in the spare room, arguing with my husband and breaking into tears, I got so bad I couldn't think without having depressive and self destructive thoughts. I actually attempted suicide, and after was a little better for a few weeks and then got worse. I couldn't leave the room, if I wasn't sleeping or reading, I was sobbing. I was crying even when I was sleeping and all I could think of was ending my life. I managed to get together enough to go see about employment at an employment center-thinking a job would get my mind off of things in a way class couldn't-and broke down in the office. The lady there was shocked and scared and (whatever you believe in-bless her) told me that she couldn't help me until I got help for myself. When I came out, still crying, my husband persuaded me to go get help. I hadn't gotten better in months now, only worse, and I couldn't do anything without it, and he was scared.

So, seven years after my diagnosis, I went to a therapist and looked for help. I talked to our new family doctor and she was able and willing to help.

I didn't want to believe it, and I thought that getting high marks and paying bills meant I was fine. I went through a couple of therapists who thought my GPA meant I should just ignore anything else going on in my life. I went to another therapist who told me that there was nothing that could be done for me because of my trauma. It's been... a journey.

I spend almost all my time home now, but I haven't had any suicidal urges in a while now. I did have a bad few days a couple of weeks ago, but I haven't been in to a therapist, and my medication may be off. I'm taking small steps. I can see people, have them around, and talk to my husband. I don't cry in my sleep, and I haven't been really angry at anything in a while (one of my other symptoms).

It's going to take a long time, but I'm making progress. It's hard when it's late in life for a diagnosis, and repeated childhood abuse is rough, some therapists will refuse even to try. That's why you're supposed to shop around. It's not your fault, it's that they either don't think they're equipped to handle it, or they have their own issues.

Take it as you can and don't be afraid to step back if you need to. Yeah, we're supposed to have it all figured out by now. With our grades we should be talking about careers and promotions and kids and vacations, but life isn't like that. It's never been like that. These things can happen at any age, and when they do, we need to take care of ourselves. It's our life, real life, not a sitcom, and life is rarely that easy.

Thank *you* for sharing. <3

It's nice to see another person around with a similar history, helps me/us feel like we're not the only ones.
 
I know your sort of story very well. I dealt with constant abuse, and while it wasn't my mother with drug...
" I wentthrough a couple of therapists whothought my GPA meant I should justignore anything else going on in mylife. I went to another therapist who told me that there was nothing that could be done for me because of my trauma"...exact same. And even me being so hard on myself that I'm not standing shoulder to shoulder to with other people who I excelled with in school. Sometimes I'm even ashamed of having done so well because I believe it was the "only thing" I had. While others felt loved and secure enough to be more well rounded and social. I think PTSD is like a jammed door. Every new experiences gets stuck and lumped in as part of "the problem". It's hard to tell which parts of the self are most rotten and need to be discarded in order to be better. But that thinking is also part of the disease. I contemplated constantly for years but never attempted self harm (except for bad relationships, making myself do things and food withholding. I really look forward to what "okay" feels like. With the kind of childhood we each had that opportunity to experience being "just fine" and at peace was not provided us. I'm looking to know it now. I am glad you have support.
 
It's a long hard journey, but it's worth it. I'm still far from "normal", and maybe I'll never be that sort, and that's okay too. Maybe I'll never go mall walking and extol the virtues of particular upholstery options and the who's who on magazine covers at checkouts. That's perfectly ok.

I'm a few years in treatment and I'm just having a few days now where I'm a bit lower than I should be, but I know it'll pass. Just holding on and keeping my head down.

I know I will probably, with the right treatment, be able to go back to work, but I may not ever drive a car. I can adapt, get rides, taxis, and walk. I will never have a good relationship with my family, and that's fine, because I have people and things I care about. I might resent it, but feeling resentment over things we don't have is pretty expected and run of the mill.

I am blissfully looking forward to "ok" myself, but it may be awhile. That's hard. I'm chomping at the bit to get it done *NOW!!!* I feel lazy and miserable and just awful for taking the time, but I know what the consequences are, and they're worse. I'm stubbornly reminding myself that for now I need to stay put or I may end up with a worse mess than I'm dealing with now. I have a good memory so I remember what falling apart feels like and I really don't want to go there again.

Finding a good support structure is, however, essential. It takes time and you need to build it piece by piece. It will let you take the breath you need to start putting it all back together.

A lot of folks won't understand the demons that are trying to drive you into the ground, they'll only see the results. Remember that the best result you can show to the world is a whole and healthy you. Money comes and goes, it's really only useful for being used. Marks are great but noone's going to remember that you got straight As a hundred years from now. You being whole and happy and spreading that to the people around you-that will cause ripple effects whose reactions will be felt and enacted centuries from now.

Now *that* is a true achievment. <3
 
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