[TL:DR] My name is Daniella, I'm 27. I have bipolar disorder and PTSD. The PTSD is a result of childhood abuse, sexual trauma, violent crimes - domestic violence, rape, sexual assault, & experiences with my mother's chronic depression, my father's alcoholism, and my father's recent suicide. I've been in weekly therapy for almost 5 years and am doing well for the most part. Lately, I've been incredibly angry. Even the smallest things cause me to scream inside BUT at least I'm at a point where I don't take it out on my fiancé. I also don't hurt myself anymore, but the nightmares are back and I feel constantly on edge.
Hi, my name is Daniella. I am 27 as of February '14. Almost 5 years ago I had hit rock bottom. I had just gotten out of a terribly abusive relationship. He stole everything I had in my bank account and I moved in with my mother. I did not have insurance and I was practically broke. My life was a mess. I tried reaching out to psychiatrists, but they always had very long waiting lists or wouldn't take people without insurance. I reached out to government programs and they had even longer waiting lists. At the brink of my sanity, suffering inside my mind, I found a bipolar support group. I attended twice before breaking down completely. The therapist who led the group gave me the most amazing gift. She told me should would see me each week for $20. She would often spend over 2 hours with me, and still only charge $20. She had a number I could call to get in touch with her directly. She was a blessing. Yet she laid a bomb on me. After many sessions she told me that my bipolar disorder was very mild and not really the issue. She determined that I had severe PTSD. The PTSD has been a huge struggle.
Fast forward 4 years. I am now engaged. My fiancé has held my hand and picked me up in my struggle with PTSD. I've been in weekly therapy all these years. 2012 & 2013 were the hardest years for us. I would often hurt myself, I was quick to irrational anger, I was depressed, I rarely left the house, and there was no way I could keep a job. I was so far gone I don't remember most of these two years. I only have snippets.
The end of 2013 I started doing really well. I describe it as seeing the sun for the first time. It's like my life was in a fog and then all of sudden the sky was blue and everything was crystal clear. I didn't feel afraid anymore. I felt a peace I had never known. It seemed that all the work I was doing in therapy was finally paying off. I was slotted to return to community college on August 27th for the first time since 2009 to pursue a Child Development degree (I had previously worked as a nanny and assistant pre-k teacher). July 25th, my boyfriend took me on a once-in-a-lifetime trip to Hawaii and asked me to marry him. The first person I told was my father. Though our relationship was strained, that phone call was the sweetest conversation I had gotten from him in very very long time.
Then began what my current therapist calls my, "year of great losses".
First, my first therapist, Kim, was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer. That was a blow because she was so wonderful. She had struggled with Chronic depression and really knew what I was going through. She's doing well now though, so I'm grateful. She also took the time to interview other therapists in the Austin area and pair me with a young woman named Katie. I really liked Katie. She was only a couple of years older than me. She was very sweet and soft spoken. Her DBT therapy eventually proved very effective.
In May, my mother and step-father were able to complete a texas workforce training to become semi-truck drivers. This was a relief. They had a very very bad habit of making really stupid decisions that kept them impoverished, behind on bills, and frequently asking for money. Now they would have a job with benefits where they could work together and see the U.S. I wouldn't have to worry about them anymore. While gone, they left their duplex in the hands of my youngest 21-year-old brother, my 58-year-old schizophrenic uncle, and two hispanic boys they didn't know from Adam. My fiancé and I knew that was a disaster waiting to happen.
In June, my uncle tells me my little brother has been hitting him. My little brother has also hurt me in the past. When I tried to get to the bottom of it by talking with my mother and stepfather, they kept pushing it under the rug. So, under great and desperate duress, I made the very very hard decision to file a report with APS against my brother. My mother was furious and our relationship has been in pieces ever since. That's kind of a goo thing because she's very toxic, but it still hurts.
In August, two weeks after my engagement, two weeks before I was due for school, and on my mother-in-law's birthday, I get a call telling me that my father committed suicide. He put a gun in his mouth, shot himself dead, and wasn't found 'til the next morning in his backyard. Part of my PTSD is this paranoia that any course of action will result in my loved one's dying. So, this was a huge blow. I began to feel that everyone I loved was about to die.
The last week of September, Katie announced that she was getting a divorce and was moving back to Dallas. I saw her one more time the next week and then she was gone. So, I lost my mother, my father, and another therapist. I tried a couple other women who only triggered me into a greater state of panic. It wasn't until the latter part of November that I found somebody via recommendation from my first therapist. Her name is Tracey, she does EMDR & Art therapy (I'm an artist) and it's going really well with her.
In January, my psychiatrist quit her practice; but the psychiatrist I was passed along to was really great. I found out this week that she has to move back to California in September. So, I'll have to switch again.
Through all of this, I've also lost my faith. I used to be a devout Christian, in love with Christ. Now I'm an atheist. It's not because I dislike the idea of God. The major tenets of the religion just don't line up with what I have experienced in the world thus far. I refuse to believe my gay, jewish, muslim, atheist friends, and father are doomed to an eternity of torture in hell. Also, no longer do I accept the Bible as the infallible word of God. I accept scientific fact instead. Though no one can prove or disprove the existence of God, I confidently think a book that is self-validating without any other outside source substantially verifying it's contents is very shady and dangerous. Especially since every single congregation of every denomination has their own interpretation as to what it all means. Human interpretation of the alleged work of God is, in my opinion, incredibly dangerous. So, it's hogwash to me.
All of this is not to say my life is not good. My fiancé has stood by me the last three years through all the nasty. He picks me up when I fall, he holds my hand as I press on, and he has the most incredible patience I have ever known. He is a person with really strong boundaries who I've been able to look to as a guide. He'll go with me to the therapist when we're really stumped on why I do some of the things I do. He's never left me or wronged me despite my tantrums or self-harm. Together we have been able to find strategies that help me cope. Also, since I've known him, he's paid all of my medical bills. He's also made it possible for me to not have to work so that I can put all my energy into getting better. Even after putting up with me for over 2 years, he still asked me to marry him. I've never felt so validated. He is my best friend. I have no doubts about us belonging together. I've also made some really healthy friends. Though I struggle with my college classes, the teachers have given me extensions and have worked very closely with me to help me get through the anxiety and panic.
The anxiety is much better. I've had less and less panic attacks. I haven't had a meltdown in over a month. I almost had one yesterday. I almost took it out on my fiancé, but when he said, "Wait. I'm happy to talk about anything with you, but not right now. You're angry at a lot of things this moment, but I'm not one of them" I was able to back down. Before I would have ripped into him even more, stormed around the house, broken things, and possibly hurt myself or him. Instead, I was able to sit and reason myself down despite the incredible discomfort I had raging inside me.
Lately though, I feel on edge. The nightmares are back. All the trauma from the sexual abuse is surfacing. Father's day pissed me off. My mother pissed me off for reminding me it was father's day so that I would call my stepfather. She didn't show any consideration for the fact that its the first father's day without Dad. A week later was her 50th birthday, and for some reason that pissed me off. I'm pissed off at her in general. I'm pissed for things that she's done years in the past, things I think she's going to do, things she does, thing she doesn't do. I can't think of my father without getting pissed at her. I pissed at my dad. I'm pissed at my brothers. I'm pissed at Facebook and other random internet articles. I get pissed off when I'm out and about and I hear a song that reminds me of my previous relationship where I was severely abused. Coming across political stuff pisses me off. Dirty dishes piss me off. I am just generally pissed off.
My therapist says this is completely normal. It's healthy because for so long I wouldn't let myself feel anger. I would deny it and push it down, which only meant it would come out sideways. Now that I am aware of it, I can process it.
Anyway I've gone on too long.
Hi, my name is Daniella. I am 27 as of February '14. Almost 5 years ago I had hit rock bottom. I had just gotten out of a terribly abusive relationship. He stole everything I had in my bank account and I moved in with my mother. I did not have insurance and I was practically broke. My life was a mess. I tried reaching out to psychiatrists, but they always had very long waiting lists or wouldn't take people without insurance. I reached out to government programs and they had even longer waiting lists. At the brink of my sanity, suffering inside my mind, I found a bipolar support group. I attended twice before breaking down completely. The therapist who led the group gave me the most amazing gift. She told me should would see me each week for $20. She would often spend over 2 hours with me, and still only charge $20. She had a number I could call to get in touch with her directly. She was a blessing. Yet she laid a bomb on me. After many sessions she told me that my bipolar disorder was very mild and not really the issue. She determined that I had severe PTSD. The PTSD has been a huge struggle.
Fast forward 4 years. I am now engaged. My fiancé has held my hand and picked me up in my struggle with PTSD. I've been in weekly therapy all these years. 2012 & 2013 were the hardest years for us. I would often hurt myself, I was quick to irrational anger, I was depressed, I rarely left the house, and there was no way I could keep a job. I was so far gone I don't remember most of these two years. I only have snippets.
The end of 2013 I started doing really well. I describe it as seeing the sun for the first time. It's like my life was in a fog and then all of sudden the sky was blue and everything was crystal clear. I didn't feel afraid anymore. I felt a peace I had never known. It seemed that all the work I was doing in therapy was finally paying off. I was slotted to return to community college on August 27th for the first time since 2009 to pursue a Child Development degree (I had previously worked as a nanny and assistant pre-k teacher). July 25th, my boyfriend took me on a once-in-a-lifetime trip to Hawaii and asked me to marry him. The first person I told was my father. Though our relationship was strained, that phone call was the sweetest conversation I had gotten from him in very very long time.
Then began what my current therapist calls my, "year of great losses".
First, my first therapist, Kim, was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer. That was a blow because she was so wonderful. She had struggled with Chronic depression and really knew what I was going through. She's doing well now though, so I'm grateful. She also took the time to interview other therapists in the Austin area and pair me with a young woman named Katie. I really liked Katie. She was only a couple of years older than me. She was very sweet and soft spoken. Her DBT therapy eventually proved very effective.
In May, my mother and step-father were able to complete a texas workforce training to become semi-truck drivers. This was a relief. They had a very very bad habit of making really stupid decisions that kept them impoverished, behind on bills, and frequently asking for money. Now they would have a job with benefits where they could work together and see the U.S. I wouldn't have to worry about them anymore. While gone, they left their duplex in the hands of my youngest 21-year-old brother, my 58-year-old schizophrenic uncle, and two hispanic boys they didn't know from Adam. My fiancé and I knew that was a disaster waiting to happen.
In June, my uncle tells me my little brother has been hitting him. My little brother has also hurt me in the past. When I tried to get to the bottom of it by talking with my mother and stepfather, they kept pushing it under the rug. So, under great and desperate duress, I made the very very hard decision to file a report with APS against my brother. My mother was furious and our relationship has been in pieces ever since. That's kind of a goo thing because she's very toxic, but it still hurts.
In August, two weeks after my engagement, two weeks before I was due for school, and on my mother-in-law's birthday, I get a call telling me that my father committed suicide. He put a gun in his mouth, shot himself dead, and wasn't found 'til the next morning in his backyard. Part of my PTSD is this paranoia that any course of action will result in my loved one's dying. So, this was a huge blow. I began to feel that everyone I loved was about to die.
The last week of September, Katie announced that she was getting a divorce and was moving back to Dallas. I saw her one more time the next week and then she was gone. So, I lost my mother, my father, and another therapist. I tried a couple other women who only triggered me into a greater state of panic. It wasn't until the latter part of November that I found somebody via recommendation from my first therapist. Her name is Tracey, she does EMDR & Art therapy (I'm an artist) and it's going really well with her.
In January, my psychiatrist quit her practice; but the psychiatrist I was passed along to was really great. I found out this week that she has to move back to California in September. So, I'll have to switch again.
Through all of this, I've also lost my faith. I used to be a devout Christian, in love with Christ. Now I'm an atheist. It's not because I dislike the idea of God. The major tenets of the religion just don't line up with what I have experienced in the world thus far. I refuse to believe my gay, jewish, muslim, atheist friends, and father are doomed to an eternity of torture in hell. Also, no longer do I accept the Bible as the infallible word of God. I accept scientific fact instead. Though no one can prove or disprove the existence of God, I confidently think a book that is self-validating without any other outside source substantially verifying it's contents is very shady and dangerous. Especially since every single congregation of every denomination has their own interpretation as to what it all means. Human interpretation of the alleged work of God is, in my opinion, incredibly dangerous. So, it's hogwash to me.
All of this is not to say my life is not good. My fiancé has stood by me the last three years through all the nasty. He picks me up when I fall, he holds my hand as I press on, and he has the most incredible patience I have ever known. He is a person with really strong boundaries who I've been able to look to as a guide. He'll go with me to the therapist when we're really stumped on why I do some of the things I do. He's never left me or wronged me despite my tantrums or self-harm. Together we have been able to find strategies that help me cope. Also, since I've known him, he's paid all of my medical bills. He's also made it possible for me to not have to work so that I can put all my energy into getting better. Even after putting up with me for over 2 years, he still asked me to marry him. I've never felt so validated. He is my best friend. I have no doubts about us belonging together. I've also made some really healthy friends. Though I struggle with my college classes, the teachers have given me extensions and have worked very closely with me to help me get through the anxiety and panic.
The anxiety is much better. I've had less and less panic attacks. I haven't had a meltdown in over a month. I almost had one yesterday. I almost took it out on my fiancé, but when he said, "Wait. I'm happy to talk about anything with you, but not right now. You're angry at a lot of things this moment, but I'm not one of them" I was able to back down. Before I would have ripped into him even more, stormed around the house, broken things, and possibly hurt myself or him. Instead, I was able to sit and reason myself down despite the incredible discomfort I had raging inside me.
Lately though, I feel on edge. The nightmares are back. All the trauma from the sexual abuse is surfacing. Father's day pissed me off. My mother pissed me off for reminding me it was father's day so that I would call my stepfather. She didn't show any consideration for the fact that its the first father's day without Dad. A week later was her 50th birthday, and for some reason that pissed me off. I'm pissed off at her in general. I'm pissed for things that she's done years in the past, things I think she's going to do, things she does, thing she doesn't do. I can't think of my father without getting pissed at her. I pissed at my dad. I'm pissed at my brothers. I'm pissed at Facebook and other random internet articles. I get pissed off when I'm out and about and I hear a song that reminds me of my previous relationship where I was severely abused. Coming across political stuff pisses me off. Dirty dishes piss me off. I am just generally pissed off.
My therapist says this is completely normal. It's healthy because for so long I wouldn't let myself feel anger. I would deny it and push it down, which only meant it would come out sideways. Now that I am aware of it, I can process it.
Anyway I've gone on too long.
