I have been posting here a lot in the two months since I found this place. When I read my own posts, I realize just how far I've fallen from the man I aspired to be, even though I never got all that close in the best of times. I guess desperation does that, depression, anxiety, and despair.

I turned last year to psychiatry because I wanted help and relief from my problems. I very much felt that I was treated extremely unfairly, like it was a criminal, dangerous, incapable of knowing what was in my own best interest. I needed kindly, gentle reassurance, but I got the iron fist and "tough love" without the love.

As a result, I've lied, I've covered things up, I've done acts of questionable nature, and I have generally become the crazy I feared becoming. My entire last 13 months have been about trying to fix the damage caused by seeking professional help and having it blow up in my face. Not even close to fixing it. And I hate myself more than ever.