I don't even know how to start writing this because I hate the idea of online whining. Even on this forum, even with getting it from multiple sources that my 'problems' are 'real', I still can't help but imagine that all of this will come across as selfish poor me-ing. But I had a third panic attack, in 9 years or a little less, so bad it nearly made me pass out and it was terrifying and I have about 12 million things rushing through my head every minute so wtf. What do I really have to lose.
To put this in some sort of context, I've seen some trauma in my life and that's left me with PTSD and anxiety. I'm just going to list some things here to hear what people have to say, and hope that there might be some reassurance that what I'm feeling, someone else has felt worse and dealt with it.
I've built an incredibly thick shell, and a shell within that shell, to protect myself from others. Be it abandonment, insult, jealousy, death, family, trust - I've dealt with enough shitty situations in my life that by the time I was, ohhh, maybe 18, but definitely by the time I was 22, I could shake off anything. Because I never let anyone in through that second shell. Ever. Now I'm in a relationship with an Iraq war vet with PTSD and it may be the most trying thing for me. But the most terrifying thing is knowing that that trust he NEEDS comes from letting him in to that second shell. And it's like the most bittersweet form of losing ones virginity, like a sacred rite. No one passes that second shell. No one has. I teeter with life as it is, and if I let someone in and they hurt me I don't know what I will do.
I worry so much about having children (if I ever do) because if I can't even keep my own crazy in check then how the hell am I supposed to bring another life into this world and nourish and cherish it? That sounds so stressful. And it's not fair to an innocent kid to have to deal with a crazy parent. That damages the kid and sends them out into the world as damaged goods like I am and I don't want to raise child like that.
I've become so disillusioned with life (at times) that I feel like having a family is the ONLY way I will keep living. Having a family, husband, kids, would give me a purpose in life. I am fiercely loyal to those I love and I'm sure that would not change for children. That ferocity would keep me alive - for my kids.
Without a family . . . I really have no idea where my life would go.
I spiral into suicidal ideation fairly regularly. Once a month, or once every 6 weeks or so. Not so much as how to do it, and wanting to do it, but more so just not caring if I die. To be completely honest I don't care if I die, I'm not afraid to die (though I might feel a little differently about that at the event). I'm not 'afraid' to die, because I believe that when you die you die and that's it. No afterlife. And sinking into a black oblivion beyond pain, worry, love, life, seems like an easy way to stop everything once and for all. Would I actually kill myself? Not now, no. I've tried when I was much younger. But if I was in a crashing plane, or car crash, I would only hope it was over quickly. And be thankful for the relief.
I've self-harmed, drank, smoked, tried many different drugs, and even with some of the most addicting drugs out there, I never fell into a full blown addiction. The stats connecting childhood trauma and addiction are significant, and the fact that I've experimented yet never let drugs come to control my life leads me to believe that it's not the physical addictiveness of drugs that has steered me towards them. It's the fiending of my chaotic mind trying to blot out stress however it can.
I have an advanced degree in Astrophysics. My life philosophy is that people are tools to be used for the betterment of humanity so you better make your life count. I feel guilty for not using myself to my full capacity.
I feel guilty to have put my family members in danger because they came to watch me run the 2013 Boston Marathon that got bombed, and my mom had been standing right where they went off. If I finished 20 minutes later she might be dead.
Reading this over it looks about as stupid as I thought it would, but hey, all of you are still outside that first shell so lay it on me.
To put this in some sort of context, I've seen some trauma in my life and that's left me with PTSD and anxiety. I'm just going to list some things here to hear what people have to say, and hope that there might be some reassurance that what I'm feeling, someone else has felt worse and dealt with it.
I've built an incredibly thick shell, and a shell within that shell, to protect myself from others. Be it abandonment, insult, jealousy, death, family, trust - I've dealt with enough shitty situations in my life that by the time I was, ohhh, maybe 18, but definitely by the time I was 22, I could shake off anything. Because I never let anyone in through that second shell. Ever. Now I'm in a relationship with an Iraq war vet with PTSD and it may be the most trying thing for me. But the most terrifying thing is knowing that that trust he NEEDS comes from letting him in to that second shell. And it's like the most bittersweet form of losing ones virginity, like a sacred rite. No one passes that second shell. No one has. I teeter with life as it is, and if I let someone in and they hurt me I don't know what I will do.
I worry so much about having children (if I ever do) because if I can't even keep my own crazy in check then how the hell am I supposed to bring another life into this world and nourish and cherish it? That sounds so stressful. And it's not fair to an innocent kid to have to deal with a crazy parent. That damages the kid and sends them out into the world as damaged goods like I am and I don't want to raise child like that.
I've become so disillusioned with life (at times) that I feel like having a family is the ONLY way I will keep living. Having a family, husband, kids, would give me a purpose in life. I am fiercely loyal to those I love and I'm sure that would not change for children. That ferocity would keep me alive - for my kids.
Without a family . . . I really have no idea where my life would go.
I spiral into suicidal ideation fairly regularly. Once a month, or once every 6 weeks or so. Not so much as how to do it, and wanting to do it, but more so just not caring if I die. To be completely honest I don't care if I die, I'm not afraid to die (though I might feel a little differently about that at the event). I'm not 'afraid' to die, because I believe that when you die you die and that's it. No afterlife. And sinking into a black oblivion beyond pain, worry, love, life, seems like an easy way to stop everything once and for all. Would I actually kill myself? Not now, no. I've tried when I was much younger. But if I was in a crashing plane, or car crash, I would only hope it was over quickly. And be thankful for the relief.
I've self-harmed, drank, smoked, tried many different drugs, and even with some of the most addicting drugs out there, I never fell into a full blown addiction. The stats connecting childhood trauma and addiction are significant, and the fact that I've experimented yet never let drugs come to control my life leads me to believe that it's not the physical addictiveness of drugs that has steered me towards them. It's the fiending of my chaotic mind trying to blot out stress however it can.
I have an advanced degree in Astrophysics. My life philosophy is that people are tools to be used for the betterment of humanity so you better make your life count. I feel guilty for not using myself to my full capacity.
I feel guilty to have put my family members in danger because they came to watch me run the 2013 Boston Marathon that got bombed, and my mom had been standing right where they went off. If I finished 20 minutes later she might be dead.
Reading this over it looks about as stupid as I thought it would, but hey, all of you are still outside that first shell so lay it on me.
