Hi everyone,
My name is Bella. I live in south west Colorado and am a junior in college. I'm joining this forum because I need help; well, mostly I need support. I don't know anyone else with PTSD and I feel very alone. Lately, I've become more detached and depressed than I have been in a while and I know it will help me to reach out. I have opened up to my closest friends and my boyfriend about the things I am experiencing and I have been pretty shocked to find that they not only don't understand, but accuse me of making up my symptoms for attention. I find that so offensive because I want the exact opposite of "attention". I don't want people to think I'm crazy and it takes a lot for me to share my feelings. My boyfriend is far more understanding than my friends, but he isn't really 100% there mentally or emotionally and I know it isn't fair for me to expect him to "care for me, or fix my problems".
I live 8 hours away from my parents, so when times are really hard I can drive home, but that is such a PTA, but at the same time, they are the only people willing to help me find the support I need. I love where I live and really really want to make it work, but I feel so alone (I do actually live alone out in the middle of nowhere so I am kind of literally alone, as well as emotionally) and it's tempting to move back home with my parents. But, I've signed a year lease and I want to finish what I've started down here in Durango.
I'm not sure how personal I'm supposed to get in my introduction post, but I figure there is no point in holding back. So, here is my story: I have struggled with major depressive disorder for about 3 years now. I have a tendency to run from my problems (literally, I moved to VT for a year for no reason, and then when that didn't work out gave RI a try for a while, and then came crawling back to CO). I have thought about suicide at points in the past, but never planned on following through. My two dogs, 3 horses, and 6 rats (yes, I have 6 rats lol) keep me sane and I could never leave them behind. I have been with my current boyfriend, Carl, on and off for three years (way more on than off), and he has been a major stressor as well as support in my life.
There were a series of events that lead to my total melt down. The first was when I was 14; I went to Nicaragua for a month to do service work and ended up getting molested twice, my malaria medicine made me hallucinate and I walked out a second story window; oh, and I got a horrible stomach bacteria and lost 30lbs in 3 weeks. I thought I was going to die. Then when I was 15, we had a peeping tom and I caught him watching my little 11 year old sister taking a shower through the window. That was disturbing, but I made peace with it. Then when I was 16, a boyfriend of my mom's threatened to kill her and we all had to go into hiding for a while and that was when my panic attacks began. When I was 18 and living in VT, I went for a run early one morning and a man jumped out of his car screaming profanities and grabbed me and tried to shove me in the trunk of his car. I battled free and went into complete fight or flight mode. I had my cell phone on me and could have called the cops, but I totally dissociated and ended up running 8 miles full speed until my legs gave out and I collapsed in a KFC parking lot.
The next year someone broke into my car and my house in Durango in the same day and stole a bunch of cash and unimportant things, but it was violating and freaked me out none the less.
Then, this April, all hell broke loose. Things get a little graphic, just warning you incase it upsets anyone. Up until this point, I had only been dealing with the depression and occasional anxiety. So, here it goes: my boyfriend and I where moving from Durango to Boulder for the summer and we where driving our stuff to Boulder. He drove his Subaru with all of our musical instruments and I followed him with my truck and horse trailer and all of the animals (dogs, rats, and horses...I thank god daily that I had all the animals in my car or they surely would be dead). Carl ended up falling asleep at the wheel going around 70mph. I was right behind him and could see it happening; his head drooped and he slowly swerved into the oncoming traffic lane. No one was in it, so I drove up behind him and honked over and over again and then started bumping his car with my truck when that didn't worked. It quickly became clear that he was going off the road no matter what I did and I was scared he was going to wake up and slam on his breaks and I'd end up crashing into him, so I backed off a little and watched powerlessly. He was hauling ass and went off the road in a terrible spot. He crashed into two mailboxes that were made out of tree stumps still in the ground. They were massive. They exploded as he collided into them and one went through the windshield right where his face was. The impact of the crash caused his car to do something that I totally didn't see coming, or even realize was physically possible. It shot strait up into the air. It looked like a nascar crash. And, of course, right past those mailboxes that he crashed into was a 7ft cliff/culvert thing. His car landed on it's rear bumper (nose pointing toward the sky) at the bottom of the culvert and both front wheels popped off and went flying and every window shattered, sending shards of glass hundreds of feet away. At this point, I had already stopped my car and was running back down the road towards him. I have no idea how I moved so quickly. After his car landed on the back bumper it popped back up into the air and landed on its nose, and the proceeded to roll four times. By the time it had stopped moving, it looked nothing like a car. I remember distinctly running and slipping down that culvert to get to the car and then it hit me that Carl was dead. I was 100% sure in my heart that I had just watched him die. I felt the deepest darkest sadness I've ever felt. I didn't even know I was capable of feeling such pain. Part of me wanted to run back up that hill and hide. Another part of me wished I had died too. But I knew I had to face his body. As I approached the smoking vehicle, I couldn't get the image of dead eyes out of my head. I'd seen dead bodies before, mostly of horses, but people too, and nothing disturbs me more than dead, empty eyes. Waves of emotions washed over me: sadness, terror, and then nothingness. Just as I got to the car, which at this point I was scared was going to explode, the driver door flung open and Carl catapulted out onto the grass. You'd expect that reliefe would have flooded over me, and don't get me wrong, I was so glad he was alive, but I had been so convinced that he was dead, that it actually made me go into even deeper shock. I didn't feel anything. His face was SPEWING blood. His airbag didn't go off anf he hit his head on the steering wheel and his sunglasses stabbed two holes into his head down to his scull and a metal rod stabbed all the way through his elbow joint and out the other side. He didn't know who I was. He wouldn't let me near him. When I was 12, I watched my best friend die falling on her head off of a horse. Her brain swelled up and thats what killed her and I was convinced the same was happening to Carl. Long story short, he had a traumatic brain injury and broke his elbow and didn't regain his memory for a month, but otherwise he was unscathed. But, something about that car accident caused me to snap. All I could think about was death. I watched youtube videos of people dying in all sorts of accidents and I refused to get in a car.
Then, just days after the accident, I tripped and tore a tendon and two ligaments in my ankle and was on crutches all summer. I was alone a lot. I was living in my dad's basement and he travels 5 days a week and Carl was staying with his parents because him not knowing who I was really messed with my head. I began to have night terrors and flash backs and horrible nightmares of being choked and drown. I cried all the time. I was always angry.
Then I started hearing noises at night. It sounded like someone was coming into the house and then leaving soon after arriving. I thought I was going crazy, so I assumed it was all in my head. But then things started going missing...like all my money from my wallet. And all the cash that I had hidden in my underwear drawer, and then more obscure personal things. One day I decided to do a test. I shut every bedroom door in the house and was 100% certain to lock every door and window. Carl and I went out for a couple hours and upon our return the front door was wide open, all the bedroom doors were open, and all my shoes were in the garbage can. There were also spit or semen covered dollar bills left scattered around the house and my dogs were cowering in the basement. That's when I realized our hide-a-key was gone. I changed the locks and the house wasn't broken into again, but my truck was broken into over and over again.
That's when I cracked. I felt so unsafe and violated and crippled, since I couldn't even walk, and I became suicidal. I told my mom, because it was the first time where i genuinely wanted to kill myself and was ready to do it. That's when my 4 day a week therapy sessions started and I also was introduced to a psychiatrist...I was on tons of Atavan and Kolonapin just to not have panic melt downs daily, and I was also on Cymbalta which turned me into a zombie so I switched to Wellbutrin XL, which helps more. By the time August rolled around I was off the benzos and only on the wellbutrin. I did have to take sleeping pills to sleep though and I wet the bed nightly, which was mortifying. I decided I was well enough to go back down to school in durango but things have been rough ever since.
On the first of Oct. I got e.coli in my kidney and liver and almost had to go on dialysis and was in the hospital for two weeks. I still feel so lethargic from that and I fell and re-tore the ligaments in my ankle again and have to have surgery, and I've been having anxiety attacks almost everytime I get in a car. I feel so far from home and from my support system and I already feel better sharing my story. Thanks for reading. I didn't mean to write a novel, but this was the short version :)
~Bella
My name is Bella. I live in south west Colorado and am a junior in college. I'm joining this forum because I need help; well, mostly I need support. I don't know anyone else with PTSD and I feel very alone. Lately, I've become more detached and depressed than I have been in a while and I know it will help me to reach out. I have opened up to my closest friends and my boyfriend about the things I am experiencing and I have been pretty shocked to find that they not only don't understand, but accuse me of making up my symptoms for attention. I find that so offensive because I want the exact opposite of "attention". I don't want people to think I'm crazy and it takes a lot for me to share my feelings. My boyfriend is far more understanding than my friends, but he isn't really 100% there mentally or emotionally and I know it isn't fair for me to expect him to "care for me, or fix my problems".
I live 8 hours away from my parents, so when times are really hard I can drive home, but that is such a PTA, but at the same time, they are the only people willing to help me find the support I need. I love where I live and really really want to make it work, but I feel so alone (I do actually live alone out in the middle of nowhere so I am kind of literally alone, as well as emotionally) and it's tempting to move back home with my parents. But, I've signed a year lease and I want to finish what I've started down here in Durango.
I'm not sure how personal I'm supposed to get in my introduction post, but I figure there is no point in holding back. So, here is my story: I have struggled with major depressive disorder for about 3 years now. I have a tendency to run from my problems (literally, I moved to VT for a year for no reason, and then when that didn't work out gave RI a try for a while, and then came crawling back to CO). I have thought about suicide at points in the past, but never planned on following through. My two dogs, 3 horses, and 6 rats (yes, I have 6 rats lol) keep me sane and I could never leave them behind. I have been with my current boyfriend, Carl, on and off for three years (way more on than off), and he has been a major stressor as well as support in my life.
There were a series of events that lead to my total melt down. The first was when I was 14; I went to Nicaragua for a month to do service work and ended up getting molested twice, my malaria medicine made me hallucinate and I walked out a second story window; oh, and I got a horrible stomach bacteria and lost 30lbs in 3 weeks. I thought I was going to die. Then when I was 15, we had a peeping tom and I caught him watching my little 11 year old sister taking a shower through the window. That was disturbing, but I made peace with it. Then when I was 16, a boyfriend of my mom's threatened to kill her and we all had to go into hiding for a while and that was when my panic attacks began. When I was 18 and living in VT, I went for a run early one morning and a man jumped out of his car screaming profanities and grabbed me and tried to shove me in the trunk of his car. I battled free and went into complete fight or flight mode. I had my cell phone on me and could have called the cops, but I totally dissociated and ended up running 8 miles full speed until my legs gave out and I collapsed in a KFC parking lot.
The next year someone broke into my car and my house in Durango in the same day and stole a bunch of cash and unimportant things, but it was violating and freaked me out none the less.
Then, this April, all hell broke loose. Things get a little graphic, just warning you incase it upsets anyone. Up until this point, I had only been dealing with the depression and occasional anxiety. So, here it goes: my boyfriend and I where moving from Durango to Boulder for the summer and we where driving our stuff to Boulder. He drove his Subaru with all of our musical instruments and I followed him with my truck and horse trailer and all of the animals (dogs, rats, and horses...I thank god daily that I had all the animals in my car or they surely would be dead). Carl ended up falling asleep at the wheel going around 70mph. I was right behind him and could see it happening; his head drooped and he slowly swerved into the oncoming traffic lane. No one was in it, so I drove up behind him and honked over and over again and then started bumping his car with my truck when that didn't worked. It quickly became clear that he was going off the road no matter what I did and I was scared he was going to wake up and slam on his breaks and I'd end up crashing into him, so I backed off a little and watched powerlessly. He was hauling ass and went off the road in a terrible spot. He crashed into two mailboxes that were made out of tree stumps still in the ground. They were massive. They exploded as he collided into them and one went through the windshield right where his face was. The impact of the crash caused his car to do something that I totally didn't see coming, or even realize was physically possible. It shot strait up into the air. It looked like a nascar crash. And, of course, right past those mailboxes that he crashed into was a 7ft cliff/culvert thing. His car landed on it's rear bumper (nose pointing toward the sky) at the bottom of the culvert and both front wheels popped off and went flying and every window shattered, sending shards of glass hundreds of feet away. At this point, I had already stopped my car and was running back down the road towards him. I have no idea how I moved so quickly. After his car landed on the back bumper it popped back up into the air and landed on its nose, and the proceeded to roll four times. By the time it had stopped moving, it looked nothing like a car. I remember distinctly running and slipping down that culvert to get to the car and then it hit me that Carl was dead. I was 100% sure in my heart that I had just watched him die. I felt the deepest darkest sadness I've ever felt. I didn't even know I was capable of feeling such pain. Part of me wanted to run back up that hill and hide. Another part of me wished I had died too. But I knew I had to face his body. As I approached the smoking vehicle, I couldn't get the image of dead eyes out of my head. I'd seen dead bodies before, mostly of horses, but people too, and nothing disturbs me more than dead, empty eyes. Waves of emotions washed over me: sadness, terror, and then nothingness. Just as I got to the car, which at this point I was scared was going to explode, the driver door flung open and Carl catapulted out onto the grass. You'd expect that reliefe would have flooded over me, and don't get me wrong, I was so glad he was alive, but I had been so convinced that he was dead, that it actually made me go into even deeper shock. I didn't feel anything. His face was SPEWING blood. His airbag didn't go off anf he hit his head on the steering wheel and his sunglasses stabbed two holes into his head down to his scull and a metal rod stabbed all the way through his elbow joint and out the other side. He didn't know who I was. He wouldn't let me near him. When I was 12, I watched my best friend die falling on her head off of a horse. Her brain swelled up and thats what killed her and I was convinced the same was happening to Carl. Long story short, he had a traumatic brain injury and broke his elbow and didn't regain his memory for a month, but otherwise he was unscathed. But, something about that car accident caused me to snap. All I could think about was death. I watched youtube videos of people dying in all sorts of accidents and I refused to get in a car.
Then, just days after the accident, I tripped and tore a tendon and two ligaments in my ankle and was on crutches all summer. I was alone a lot. I was living in my dad's basement and he travels 5 days a week and Carl was staying with his parents because him not knowing who I was really messed with my head. I began to have night terrors and flash backs and horrible nightmares of being choked and drown. I cried all the time. I was always angry.
Then I started hearing noises at night. It sounded like someone was coming into the house and then leaving soon after arriving. I thought I was going crazy, so I assumed it was all in my head. But then things started going missing...like all my money from my wallet. And all the cash that I had hidden in my underwear drawer, and then more obscure personal things. One day I decided to do a test. I shut every bedroom door in the house and was 100% certain to lock every door and window. Carl and I went out for a couple hours and upon our return the front door was wide open, all the bedroom doors were open, and all my shoes were in the garbage can. There were also spit or semen covered dollar bills left scattered around the house and my dogs were cowering in the basement. That's when I realized our hide-a-key was gone. I changed the locks and the house wasn't broken into again, but my truck was broken into over and over again.
That's when I cracked. I felt so unsafe and violated and crippled, since I couldn't even walk, and I became suicidal. I told my mom, because it was the first time where i genuinely wanted to kill myself and was ready to do it. That's when my 4 day a week therapy sessions started and I also was introduced to a psychiatrist...I was on tons of Atavan and Kolonapin just to not have panic melt downs daily, and I was also on Cymbalta which turned me into a zombie so I switched to Wellbutrin XL, which helps more. By the time August rolled around I was off the benzos and only on the wellbutrin. I did have to take sleeping pills to sleep though and I wet the bed nightly, which was mortifying. I decided I was well enough to go back down to school in durango but things have been rough ever since.
On the first of Oct. I got e.coli in my kidney and liver and almost had to go on dialysis and was in the hospital for two weeks. I still feel so lethargic from that and I fell and re-tore the ligaments in my ankle again and have to have surgery, and I've been having anxiety attacks almost everytime I get in a car. I feel so far from home and from my support system and I already feel better sharing my story. Thanks for reading. I didn't mean to write a novel, but this was the short version :)
~Bella
