Orglethorp
Not Active
Forgive me if that subject line sounds overly dramatic, but it describes my situation quite well. I understand that there's no such thing, in psychology terms, as a sociopath, but I can name several professionals who agree that the common idea of what a sociopath is aligns with cluster B personality disorders. Underneath other issues (sexual addiction, alcoholism, etc.), this is what my father is. He dropped off the radar when I was 15, but by then he had already terrorized my family and I in innumerable ways. I was "fine" until my first year of university. Yes, I was quieter and more emotionally mature than my peers. Yes, I was acutely interested in abnormal psychology and in law and corrections as a teenager without understanding why it felt so important to me. Yes, looking back, I can see that I started struggling with depression long before my diagnosis. But I fooled the world (and myself, most of the time) into believing that I was a normal, happy child & teen. I sailed through school with a very high average, graduated high school with honours, volunteered at a local museum every Saturday, had a great group of friends, and even managed to have a year-long relationship with a very kind and respectful boy toward the end of high school.
When I was nearly 19, the young man I was dating at the time (a fellow resent graduate from the same high school) was struggling through mental health issues of his own. He had already been placed in a psych ward once to prevent him from harming himself and two of his close friends the year before, and though he promised me he was "better," his mood and actions were convincing me otherwise, and after several concerning things he had said, done or tried to do all in about a week or so, I was afraid he might include me in a murder-suicide and broke the relationship off. It was messy. He stalked me for a while and turned most of my friends against me. He took what I had managed to recall and tell him about my past and threw it back at me. This is when I "broke down." In just a handful of weeks I went from being a confident young adult working toward a degree in engineering to a frightened, depressed teenager with a dual diagnosis of depression and PTSD. I withdrew from my program, because I no longer believed I was smart enough. I started studying history at a local college because I thought teaching would be an easier career option (faulty logic, I know!). I studied part time, worked nearly full time, and changed my minor every 2-3 semesters. I starting deliberately harming myself. I briefly dated someone who was far too needy and immature to get the attention of a more confident woman.
That was 6 years ago.
There are symptoms of PTSD that I no longer experience frequently enough to convince some people that I still have PTSD. Roughly 2 years ago my family started telling me that they saw "the old me" shining through again, and people I had met in the mean time said I was really "coming out of my shell." At the end of August I moved across the country for a fresh start and I'm taking a second try at engineering. I'm really proud of myself!
I'm concerned, though, because sometimes I feel like I'm never going to get better than the way I am now. For example, I still have emotional flashbacks without any real warning or consistent triggers that I can avoid. It usually only lasts for a few seconds, but it'll happen in the middle of a physics lecture of something. I'm acutely bothered by having a strange walk behind me in a public place, and I rely on music (either listening to it or singing to myself) to keep myself distracted when I'm walking alone. Even though I have never been suicidal, and I haven't cut myself in nearly 2 years, I impulsively think about what I could do to myself with every potential weapon I see. Not wanting to do it doesn't stop the thought.
Does anyone else feel this way?
When I was nearly 19, the young man I was dating at the time (a fellow resent graduate from the same high school) was struggling through mental health issues of his own. He had already been placed in a psych ward once to prevent him from harming himself and two of his close friends the year before, and though he promised me he was "better," his mood and actions were convincing me otherwise, and after several concerning things he had said, done or tried to do all in about a week or so, I was afraid he might include me in a murder-suicide and broke the relationship off. It was messy. He stalked me for a while and turned most of my friends against me. He took what I had managed to recall and tell him about my past and threw it back at me. This is when I "broke down." In just a handful of weeks I went from being a confident young adult working toward a degree in engineering to a frightened, depressed teenager with a dual diagnosis of depression and PTSD. I withdrew from my program, because I no longer believed I was smart enough. I started studying history at a local college because I thought teaching would be an easier career option (faulty logic, I know!). I studied part time, worked nearly full time, and changed my minor every 2-3 semesters. I starting deliberately harming myself. I briefly dated someone who was far too needy and immature to get the attention of a more confident woman.
That was 6 years ago.
There are symptoms of PTSD that I no longer experience frequently enough to convince some people that I still have PTSD. Roughly 2 years ago my family started telling me that they saw "the old me" shining through again, and people I had met in the mean time said I was really "coming out of my shell." At the end of August I moved across the country for a fresh start and I'm taking a second try at engineering. I'm really proud of myself!
I'm concerned, though, because sometimes I feel like I'm never going to get better than the way I am now. For example, I still have emotional flashbacks without any real warning or consistent triggers that I can avoid. It usually only lasts for a few seconds, but it'll happen in the middle of a physics lecture of something. I'm acutely bothered by having a strange walk behind me in a public place, and I rely on music (either listening to it or singing to myself) to keep myself distracted when I'm walking alone. Even though I have never been suicidal, and I haven't cut myself in nearly 2 years, I impulsively think about what I could do to myself with every potential weapon I see. Not wanting to do it doesn't stop the thought.
Does anyone else feel this way?
